Still Monitoring the Midlife Crisis Situation

Since I've arrived in my 40's, I try to keep up a healthy dose of self reflection to determine whether or not I'm having a mid-life crisis (I don't want to be that guy). Anyways, I'm all about introspection. So here's how it works, I looked "Mid-life crisis" up in Wikipedia and I'm using the following as my working definition/parameters:

"A mid-life crisis is an emotional state of doubt and anxiety in which a person becomes uncomfortable with the realization that life is halfway over. It commonly involves reflection on what the individual has done with his or her life up to that point, often with feelings that not enough was accomplished. The individuals experiencing such may feel boredom with their lives, jobs, or their partners, and may feel a strong desire to make changes in these areas. The condition is most common ranging from the ages of 35-50, and affects men and women differently."

That's pretty much how I would have described it but I would have used the words "regret" and "disappointment" a lot more in my definition. Ok, now that our term is defined, I then compare now to 10 years ago:

Comparisons: 31 and 41

10 years ago, I had just moved back to Memphis from East Tennessee where I received my teaching license at East Tennessee State University. My plan all along was to teach high school for a few years and then go back to get a PhD in Education and then work the rest of my life in higher education (or as I call it, the "good life"). So, I think I'm right on track with my career goals. However, I only planed on teaching for 3 years instead of 6, so I'm slightly behind schedule.

I was dating my future ex-wife at the time and now I'm a bachelor. Both at 31 and 41, I was/am a few years away from a divorce and not all that excited about the prospect of getting married again. I think being a bachelor for an extended period of time makes me more selective versus more desperate. . .its nice how the older you get the more patterns you see emerge.

As far as friends go, back at age 31 my best friends were in Memphis, San Francisco and Johnson City. Here at 41 my best friends are still scattered about the country far away from me, but I have manged to make some really good friends (and drinking buddies) up here in Maine. There are truly some delightful people in the New England/New Brunswick, Canada area.

I have had a breakthrough since I was 31 with my religious beliefs. Back then I didn't really know what I believed, but in the past few years I figured it all about. As a side note, one of the things I lost from back then was "having figured women out." I clearly remember, when I was about 25, that I sorted it all out and women were no longer a mystery. I wish I had written it down! That's why I wrote my Religious Manisfesto for Future Daniel. Past Daniel dropped the ball on the women one.

Ok, so let's go through this Mid Life Crisis check list from Wikipedia:

Certain characteristics displayed by individuals experiencing a mid-life crisis often include but are not limited to:

1. search of an undefined dream or goal

No, absolutely not. I think that's where you are "trying to find yourself." I am self aware and I have always been a goal oriented person and I have been been successful in keeping on top of them over the years.

2. desire to achieve a feeling of youthfulness

No. I've kept a lot of my hobbies from my youth (RPG games, video games, painting, and favorite authors) so its not like I'm trying to regain something lost. I still wear the same style of clothes from when I was 31, but not the cloths from my early 20s (because it was the 80s and I'd look stupid). I think its worth noting that recently I have gone out with people who are 15 to 20 years younger than me and I do not feel pressured to drink beer as fast as they do.

3. acquiring of unusual or expensive items such as clothing, muscle cars, jewellery, gadgets, etc.

Nope. The last thing I acquired was snow shoes. . .that were on sale.

4. paying extra special attention to physical appearance

Hmmm. . .not really. Despite people telling me to shave because I would look younger, I have grown a beard. I've been jogging and eating better for a few years now and I have lost and kept off 50 pounds. But I haven't gotten my teeth capped or spray on tans or died my increasingly gray hair. My motives are health not beauty.

5. need to spend more time alone or with certain peers

That's a big NO. I do not want to spend time alone. Coming from a big family I am comfortable around big groups of people/friends. There aren't any "peers" of mine that I see myself strongly drawn to, either. In Memphis I hang out primarily with my friends from college who are all around 40. . .same goes for Knoxville plus or minus a few years. Here in Maine, I spend time with people in their 70s, 60s, 30s, and 20s. Not many people in their 40s around. . .what happened to my demographic???

6. a deep sense of remorse for goals not accomplished

No, again. I think in the last 20 years I've accomplish quite a bit and I am proud of my accomplishments. Also, in the last 10 years I have really gotten to travel more, PLUS I've finally been able to travel outside the US (London and Japan). Traveling has always been one of my dreams/goals so I'm glad I've been able to do it, and do it with good friends to boot! I have had some very rewarding relationships and although I had wanted children when I was younger, I'm not feeling the paternal drive as much as I did back in the day.

7. an underlying desire to initiate new sexual partnerships

No, I've always been more interested in QUALITY relationships versus a QUANTITY of relationships. I'm not currently involved with anyone in a serious relationship, and that has been by choice. Last year I came up with a commitment to an idea, the idea being that if I can't be with "the Ghost of my Past" (and I can't), then I want to be with someone better than her and not just settle for a woman because she happens to be chasing after me.

Ok then. . . so that was 7 no's, and on top of that I really don't feel a sense of regret or of disappointment. I am actually quite enthusiactic about life here in Maine. There is still no sense of urgency that I need to live life before its all over or an impending sense of doom (Which Leslie informed me is one of the signs of Heart Disease) because my life is half over. So, I still maintian no mid-life crisis here.

13 Weighty Questions to Ponder while Sitting in a Coffee Shop

Whenever I go to a coffee shop alone, I like to bring some work or something to read along with me. Not only does it make me appear studious as well as productive, it also keeps me from awkwardly not having anything to focus on. Ok, but say you don't have any work to do, then I suggest you bring a note book and the following questions straight from the Slacker's Handbook to give you something to do:

1. Is there a God?

2. Do I exist?

3. If so, how come?

4. What if I'm just a minor character in that creepy guy over there's dream?

5. That would mean I could stop worrying about my rent, right?

6. What is the nature of evil?

7. What do you suppose is the half-life of this hickey?

8. Am I being paranoid or is Mr. Creepy guy over there looking at me?

9. Should I get a new tattoo?

10. Is that woman behind the counter wearing a bra?

11. Was Thelma really a lesbian?

12. What if E does not equal MC squared?

13. Is this the same cheesecake they were serving yesterday?

New Zodiac, by me.

A couple of years ago I made an updated zodiac. . .I found the constellations using Patrick's telescope and assigned them names and archetypes. . .just like the guy who did the original. I used lots of astrophysics, metaphysics, and wisdom of the ages. So that means it's REAL, people. Naysayers may scoff, but people who are intuitive enough will see that my new zodiac is solid and sound.

Rain Barrel (March 21 - April 20) You are a collector of useful things and ideas as well as a reservoir of beneficial knowledge. You are also a bit old fashioned, but still open to fresh ideas.

Flower Maiden (April 21 - May 21) You are head strong and others should recognize that your will is inevitable. You are also a green thumb and if not, your problem is you over water your plants.

Floppy Puppy (May 22 - June 20) You are fun loving and often the life of the party. You are also a bit naive and gullible, but maintain your trust in humanity's virtues.

Tricky Pig (June 20 - July 23) You are a social creature, but sometimes appear to tell people what they want to hear. You maintain the role of the diplomat even if you are up to no good.

Summer Haze (July 24 - August 21) You are very passionate and easy to anger. You are often described as being lethargic and taciturn when you are not motivated. You are most at ease with Flower Maidens.

Garden Gnome (August 22 - September 21) You are vigilant and dedicated to your work even though you are often over looked for promotion. You are a social person and like to be around other dependable people.

Golden Leaf (September 22 - October 22) You are prone to depression but others see you as having the perfect life. You watch and listen before making up your mind on most issues.

Spooky Castle (October 23 - November 22) You are quiet and guarded and are often accused of shutting people out and putting up defensive walls. You think fondly of better days and long for spring cleaning.

Drunken Salesman (November 23 - December 21) You are always selling people to new ideas or your point of view and are sometimes seen as being insincere. You sometimes blurt out that you love people and lose your car keys frequently.

Identical Snowflakes (December 22 - January 19) You are seen as being a complex introverted but you are actually content with simple pleasures. You often accumulate a vast network of friends, but most are fair weather friends.

Heirloom Quilt (January 20 - February 19) You are seen as chaotic and random when first met, however people soon find there is a method to your madness. You are also traditional and have a colorful sense of humor.

Lucky Charms (February 20 - March 20) You are blessed with the knack of being in the right place at the right time, and if not, then you are the opposite. You are a stargazer and are fascinated by rainbows.

Tales of Slack: Chapter 22 (continued)

"The Shadow Hotel San Wa"
Naha City, Okinawa, Japan. July 2002.



“What’s worse than the Yakuza?”

“This is a black market district; the Yakuza are the good guys.”

“Oh. . .yeah. . .that makes sense.” I said slumping into the van’s back seat.

“How much time before the typhoon hits?” Yurimi asked Ackley.

“It’s practically here. Can't you feel the wind hitting the van?”

The sky was darker and it looked like it was 7 at night instead of 3 in the afternoon. Ackley wove in and out of traffic avoiding scooters and stopped taxi cabs. He pulled out of the small alley-like streets onto the 222 headed towards Shuri Castle. Construction cranes jutted up across the landscape as more concrete bunker looking buildings were erected crowding out the tiled roves of the traditional Okinawan houses.

“I’m still waiting, patiently I might add, to hear why it’s called the Shadow Hotel San Wa and why it’s so bad.” Yurimi said.

“Besides the obvious.” I chimed in.

“It doesn’t exist.”

“What do you mean 'it doesn't exist?' Like on paper for tax purposes?”

“No, I mean it is not there. No such place in this world.”

“We just left our luggage somewhere. Yurimi’s mom gave someone our credit card information when she made the reservations. So it’s real.”

“Look. . .when I left the real Hotel San Wa I called Fujiwari and he said that the Shadow Hotel San Wa used to be a house that burned down years ago.” Ackley’s voice seemed to switch into campfire story mode. “The dude that lived there died in, of all places, the shower. He was burned alive while being in water.”

“Get out.” Yurimi said looking intently at Ackley as he drove faster on the 222.

“It gets weirder. When people walked by the ruins at night they could still hear sounds of a shower running.”

“A sewer drain most likely.” Even though I always considered myself a man of science, I winced inside because as soon as I said that I felt like Scully from the X-files. I was not a fan of Scully’s eternal skepticism.

“Maybe, but after a few years they built a new building over the ruins. They even did a Shinto purification ceremony on it and everything, but no one would go near it. No customers showed up and no one would work there. So it’s been unoccupied all this time.”

“That’s just a ghost story, man. It’s a real hotel. I have the hotel room key in my pocket.” I moved my hand to my pocket only to find it empty.

Yurimi was turned around in the front passenger seat of the van staring back at me expectantly. My heart was racing and could practically feel the dark forces aligning against us. I turned and looked up yet again at the swirling dark clouds over Okinawa.

“. . .Typical. . .” I sighed and shook my head slowly in defeat. “I really hate your mother, Yurimi.”

Tales of Slack: Chapter 22

"The Shadow Hotel San Wa"
Naha City, Okinawa, Japan. July 2002.





“I can’t figure out these damn AC controls.” It looked like a little pocket electronic game bolted to the wall. I eventually gave up and slumped on the bed. The pillows were stuffed with plastic beads like a buckwheat pillow. A synthetic buckwheat pillow that apparently was designed for robots to sleep on.

Yurimi was sitting in the raised doorway of the closet-like bathroom. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah. . .at least it’s stuck on cold.”

Outside the window, the approaching typhoon had the skies asphalt gray and the tangle of power lines swinging. The roof tops of Naha City’s black market district made a jumbled skyline. I looked at my watch for the 100th time in 15 minutes.

“When’s Ackley getting here?”

“He said he was on his way.”

Still looking at my watch, I tried to do the math to figure out what time it was in the States. The phone rang. Yurimi answered it. “Hey. . .Are you here?” A confused look went across her face as she apparently listened to who ever was on the other end. “What? No way. Check and see if there’s another! Ok.” And she hung up.

“What?” I asked.

“He said he was here at the Hotel San Wa.”

“Yeah. But?”

“But he said he was down by the big fountain in the lobby.”

“But. . .but there isn’t a fountain in the lobby. . .I wouldn't even call that a lobby!”

“Yeah, yeah I know. Apparently there is two Hotel San Was in Naha City.”

“What’s the chances?” I shook my head. “How much time we have before the typhoon hits?”

“Who knows. I think the typhoon is the red spikey thing.” Yurimi said thumbing towards the TV with its sound turned off showing the weather in Japanese.

“Let’s go out and wait for Ackley on the street.” She said standing up.

“Yeah, let’s.” I felt the front pocket of my shorts to see if I still had the wad of 35,000 Japanese Yen. I did. It was only about $350, but we were going to need it.

As we left the hotel room, I noticed that the outside of the door was completely coated in condensation from the cold room inside the humid hallway. A pool of water was at the base of the door soaking the thin carpet. “Man, it’s freaking humid.” I said sliding the door shut and locking it. I could feel sweat immediately starting to build on my back and forehead. I stuck the room key in my Hawaiian-style shirt that had green bamboo on it. Years later I almost didn't throw the shirt away because it reminded me of Naha City, but I never wore it anymore, so I chucked it.

We walked down the steep steps of the stairway and out the "micro lobby" of the hotel. The air in the tight alley was motionless as the sky above swirled with angry gray clouds. The outdoor black market appeared to be collectively deciding to shut down for the typhoon, albeit reluctantly. Stall keepers were moving in slow motion, looking about, just in case a last minute customer were to show up. The two of us walked along the edge of the entrance of the vast black market of Naha City, and turned out towards the main roads. An alley cat with a crooked tail ambled beside us in the gutter. As we waited on the corner, the cat continued to amble on into the street and was smacked by a passing scooter. It rolled nonchalantly, got back up, and continued its journey into another alley.

“Did you see that!” I said watching the gray cat disappear in the afternoon shadows.

“No, what?” She pointed down the street, “Hey, there’s Ackley.”

Ackley pulled up to the curb and rolled down the window, “Hey, what’s up?” He glanced back and forth and then conspiratorially asked, “Did you know you’re staying in the shadow Hotel San Wa?”

“Is it Yakuza?” Yurimi asked narrowing her eyes.

Ackley shook his head, “No, something worse. . .Get in.”

Tales of Slack: Chapter 15

"San Francisco's Calling"

63b Clerkenwell Rd Islington, London, 2006.



It was after midnight, and me, Christine and Anna were walking from a pub to a club called Turnmills, where some of Christine's San Francisco DJs were having a show called "San Francisco Calling" and we are on the guest list. She has an awesome network of San Franciscan bartenders and DJs. I'm not sure if its a coincidence that we were in London during the DJ event. Either way, we skipped to the head of the line and made our way into the club. The ground floor was a normal looking bar and was deserted, but the thumping below us let us know which way to proceed.

"You look like a cop." Anna told me as we walked in the poorly lit passage way.

"Really? I'm not wearing a uniform." I was wearing a rumpled black suit and tie.

"Like a burned-out detective. . .who may have just gotten divorced or fired or both." She clarified.

"Oh." I said, slightly deflated.

The hallway lead to a stairwell and as we walked down the noise level of the music increased dramatically wih each step. I noticed on the wall to the left a sign as we went down the stairs. I saw the word "WARNING" in giant letters and I turn to read more, I feel my foot step off into nothing. Apparently the sign was warning me about the stairs turning at an abrupt angle and to be careful. They could have placed the sign sooner, I thought as I fell in slow motion to my certain death. I landed on my side at the bottom of the stairs and the odd thing was the only thing I broke was my belt. I felt it snap on my side as the leather split in half. This was unfortunate since I needed the belt to hold my pants up, but fortunate in that my belt somehow took the brunt of the fall and no bones were broken. Laughing, Christine and Anna appeared to be saying something about the fall, but the music was too loud for me to understand them. With my hands in my pockets to keep my pants up, we followed the music deeper into the bowels of the club.

The Turnmills was dark and multi-leveled with multiple rooms. Each room had its own DJ, men and women with serious expressions as they plied their craft. There were 100s of people down there dancing to different styles of music from room to room. From talking to or overhearing them, its obvious that all the security and bartenders were Eastern European. This was a trend of most of my London experience. After being briefly separated, I found Anna and Christine at a side bar talking with the bartender. His name was Tomas, and he was a friendly Czech. Somehow, the girls convinced him to have a shot of Sambuka with us. He looked left and right theatrically and then ducks under the bar to drink it. The only other drinks he had were Corona in little miniature bottles and Red Stripe in skinny cans. Very foreign and very familiar at the same time.

Later, I somehow get landed with a drunken Irishman named Stephen. His friend was interested in Anna and asked me to watch him while they danced. Stephen was wobbly but congenial, so I propped him up against a bar and chatted with him.

"I have a fantastic idea for a karaoke bar." He told me proudly.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. . .it's a karaoke bar that serves crepes. You sing a song, you get a crepe. And its called. . .this is the best part. . .its called Crepaoke." He smiled.

"Ahh. I see." I nod as I wonder if he's talking about those thin little pancakes or something Irish that sounds like "crepes."

On the way out at 7AM there is still a line to get in. Where have these people been all night?? I thought as I looked at their tired faces. We turn back and see that Anna was no longer with us and must still be inside. Christine went to the security guy at the entrance and said, "Hey, we lost our friend can we go back inside to get her?"

The guy shook his head, "Sorry, we have no lost and found."

"What? No, we got separated from our friend. She is still inside."

"Sorry." He looked at her blankly. "No lost and found."

With a confused look on her face Christine turned to me and said, "Anna is on her own." She squinted from the rising sun. "Let's go find breakfast."

8AM.

Tarot Cards

This past week I went to a fortune teller near Shiloh. I've never gone to a fortune teller before and I was expecting a gypsy woman, I got this middle age woman with dyed red hair who was eating McDonald's for lunch. She looked like she would be comfortable driving a school bus.

"What do you want revealed to you by the cards?" She asked as she took a drink from the straw of a medium sized McDonald's cup.

I told her I was interested in knowing about the future of my love life, I told her about my online dating fiasco, and about my doomed ghost of my past story. She looked like she was not listening, but pulled a card out of her deck with two naked people on it called the Lovers and said "We'll use this as the focus card, then. . .Ok lets start."

Without any fanfare or theatrics, she shuffled the cards and pulled out a card that was of a kid carrying a stick. It said "Page of Wands" down at the bottom.

"You sir, are curious and flexible; so you can get involved in a relationship far too quickly, and then wonder how you got in so deep so fast. You should step back and reflect before you leap."

"Ok." That's sound advice, I suppose.

She shuffled the cards again and pulled out a card that was a jester looking guy about to step off a cliff. "Uh oh," I thought, "The Fool." She tapped it and said, "You like excitement and novelty. But the same old same old can be turned into a routine and some routines can expand into wonderful traditions. Try to start some regularness in your partnership."

"Is that a word? 'Regularness?' Besides I don't have a partnership to start routines in." The cards LIE! I joke inside my head.

She shrugged and shuffled the cards. The next card was upside down and was a blindfolded woman holding two swords.

"You hate to confront, so you tend to break up with women with silence or just leaving. You should be honest with them. Your disappointed partner will appreciate your honesty and you will feel more liberated."

"Hmmm." I said.

"Yes?"

"I used to be like that. . .I've broken up before by default, by moving away, but the past few times I've told them face to face and believe me, they did not seem to appreciate my honesty."

"Was it a shit storm?"

"Yes. . .it was a shit storm. Like a two hour shit storm with a secondary mini-shit storm follow up a week later."

She sniffed and shuffled the cards. She pulled out a card with a guy holding a candle and at the bottom it said "The Magician." "You should search for ways to inspire a woman who appears too traditional. You may draw out a cautious person who loves your spirit and wants to go exploring with you." She looked up at me expectantly.

"Well. . .I'm not a fan of ultra-conservative women. . .but I've never coaxed one out of her shell."

"Maybe you should."

"Which card tells me HOW?"

She grunted as if to say "tell me about it" and shuffled the cards. She placed one on the table that had a man and woman holding cups. "You tend to be popular. So when you find someone you are genuinely interested in, avoid other dating opportunities and concentrate on this one person."

"Ok." This was starting to sound like my own Modern Zodiac that I wrote for laughs. . .Had she read it??

The next card she pulled was one with a woman in it pouring water into a pond with a giant star above her, at the bottom it said, "The Star." "You prefer to take a relationship one day at a time. But when you find your partner in adventure, create imaginative ways to make a deeper commitment."

"Are you talking about role playing in the bedroom? You know, dressing up like a cop or something?"

She seemed to be thinking about it. "Ummm. No, just not getting in stuck in a rut."

"But you said this card," I pointed to the Fool, "meant I should put some regularness into a relationship. They seem contradictory."

"That's a good point." She conceded as she shuffled and drew the last card. It was an angel pouring something from one cup to another, and at the bottom it said, "Temperance." The angel had a serene expression on its face.

"Whenever this card comes up it's a lesson to have patience with others. You should try to think of where women are coming from. Remember, patience and perseverance."

"Go with the flow?" I asked.

"Go with the flow." She repeated.

Car-tires and Alligators

I just saw this story on the news where the Nolichucky river in Greene county has over 30,000 old car tires in it that were dumped there back in the 1950s, but the company that dumped them has long gone out of busines and the owner died years ago. SO, the state can't clean it up because they have no one to bill. The good news is people in Greene county are trying to get a grant that wil pay for it.

I like the Nolichucky. Me, Christine, and Trey went white water rafting in it years ago. That was a good day

Almost totally unrelated. . .When I was jogging one day along 3rd Creek, a family on bikes passed me on a bridge and their little boy saw old car tire in the creek and said "HEY! LOOK! An alligator!" and pedalled on. Ahh, the power of imagination.

"There is no Life I know
To compare with Pure imagination
Living there You'll be free
If you truly wish to be"

Deleted Conversation

YOU: Wait. . .What color hair does he have?

ME: Black hair. Paul Michael Glaser.

YOU: Making Hutch David Soul?

ME: Right. The blond guy.

YOU: OK. That's wrong.

ME: Hey, it's--

YOU: Plus, another thing, where's Huggie Bear?

ME: He's not there. Besides, Huggie Bear is not in every single episode.

YOU: I think you might of dreamed this one.

ME: No. It's a real episode. The killer is leading him across the city by calling different pay phones.

YOU: Why?

ME: It's all part of his plan. I don't know why.

YOU: But it doesn't make sense, that's all I'm saying. It has the logic of a dream.

ME: The point is the killer always asks, "May I speak to Starsky?"

He says his name.

YOU: What does Starsky say?

ME: He says. "This is he."

YOU: This is he?

ME: No. This is he.

Tales of Slack: Chapter 3

"Vampires, Lesbians, and Militant vegetarians."

Memphis. At the Red Square, 1993.

As I crossed Madison Avenue, I could tell it was a good crowd at the Red Square because not only was the little parking lot next to it overflowing, but the music was thumping. It was an alternative/grunge club that only survived briefly in a city that only had room for one such club (6-1-6, or "6-1-Sucks" as it was later known). I was hoping to see Libby, since she had told me that she was planning on going to the Red Square to dance. I usually only saw her outside of class with her nose in a book, so it was going to be worth it to see her cutting loose.

I paid the cover at the door and I think it was only $3. The doorman was a large, 6'4" black guy named, Darin. He was a professional midtown bouncer/street samurai and always dressed in black. He was wearing silver rings on each finger with a definite animal motif going on, with one or two skulls thrown into the mix. He also had those fake vampire teeth caps on, you know, the kind that the dentist has to glue on. Despite never seeing him in the light of day, I know he was a fake vampire, because years later I heard at Neil's that he died of pancreatic cancer.

I asked Darin if he had seen Libby, and he replied in a grumbly voice, "She's dancin'."

Immediately inside was the bar part of Red Square, and it had booths around an island bar that were covered in a garish red vinyl. As I passed through, I saw a woman who used to be a Madonna-wannabee back in the 80s and I used to see her on campus dressed like Madonna from Desperately Seeking Susan. But now she had blond dreadlocks and as I passed I noticed she had a "vegan" patch on the ass of her jeans. Her name was Emily or Eileen, definitely a name that started with an "E." No, I think it was actually, Martha.

Past the bar was the actual dance floor. It wasn't all that big, and had a slight stage area on the far side. It did have high ceilings and on those high walls, the club had paid some artist to paint several sickle and hammers as well as a Soviet looking dominatrix. Which years later when it was renovated, my ex-girlfriend, Dana, actually got the contractors to let her have that piece of art featuring the dominatrix. I've got a photo of it placed in her apartment in a shoebox somewhere.

On the dance floor, there just happened to be a lot of dancing going on. The DJ was playing an old song from the 80's by Shriekback,

"Priests and cannibals, prehistoric animals
Everybody happy as the dead come home
Big Black Nemesis, parthenogenesis
No one move a muscle as the dead come home"

I walked on the periphery of the dance floor scanning for Libby. The crowd's focus seemed to be on two women dancing like lesbians. I say "like" because every since Basic Instinct came out a couple years before, there always seemed to be a couple of girls emulating Sharon Stone's dance with her friend from the movie. Plus, one of the girls had a very distinctive feline appearance and I saw her years later pregnant with a boyfriend.

I saw Libby dancing with a friend of hers and I was stunned to see her having a good time. After watching her dance I realized there was something different about Libby, she had breasts! I had no idea because she always wore loose sweatshirts and baggy clothes, but here she was dancing in a form fitting shirt and I was taken back. For this night out, all her usual clothes were all gone, save her dark rimmed glasses and her Chuck Taylor hightops, which had "Fight the power" written on one of the white toes in black Sharpee. She was missing her red Marlboro baseball cap and loose baggy clothes. And she looked beautiful. She had short reddish hair and looked like Kate Moss, BUT only like Kate Moss from a very specific Calvin Klein ad that had Kate lying nude on a black sofa looking back at the camera. I would see that ad years later and ask, "Who is that?" whoever I was with, I think Julie, told me Kate Moss.

When Libby stepped off the dance floor, she saw me walking towards her, and waved for me to hurry to her table.

"Hey! Got a drink?" She asked after hugging me. She was smiling uncharacteristically and it warmed my heart that she was glad to see me.

"No, not yet. I have to go find Kamal soon."

"You can have one of mine." She indicated a bunch of full beer bottles on a small table. "It's my birthday!" She said cheerfully and was meant to explain her pile of beers.

"Really? It's your birthday?"

"Yep, I'm 24."

Libby raised an eyebrow at a nearby girl who somehow knew that Libby meant "give me your cigarette, I'm empty and its my birthday," and gave her the cigarette. Libby took a drag on and took a swig from a Miller-lite beer bottle all in one fluid motion. That's back when Miller and Budweiser were the only beers in town, back when Coors seemed exotic.

"How did you get to be so damn cool?" I asked, laughing.

Libby didn't hear me over the music. She blew smoke off to the side, "Come and dance with me."

"I can't, I gotta go find Kamal."

"Come and dance, it's my birthday" She said with an impish smile holding a beer bottle in one hand and the commandeered cigarette in the other.

So we danced. On into the night, we danced. . .

Somewhere in my memories we still dance. But it's not at Red Square. Instead, I like to picture the scene as a old fashion wind up music box built by some toymaker with an urban fetish. It's a black box, that after it has been properly wound, you release a catch on the side, and it opens and spreads out to make a miniature Red Square. Complete with spinning characters: an obsidian doorman, a vegan with dirty blonde dreadlocks, two undulating female figures, and in the center, me and Libby dancing.

Top Three Favorite History Questions

I was watching a re-run of the Office tonight, and it was the episode where instead of hiring a male stripper for the girls' bachelorette party, they hired a Benjamin Franklin impersonator. Anyway. . .Michael kept talking about Benjamin Franklin being a great US president, and that reminded me of some of my own students' lack of US history/social studies knowledge.

Here's my top 3 favorite student questions:

1. What is the blue stuff on the map?

2. Did World War I start when a Duke killed an ostrich?

3. Did they have cars during the Civil War? (no) Ok, what about automobiles?

Tales of Slack: Chapter 12

"Trapped with Pantera" AKA "Neil's PETA Caper"

San Francisco, 1996. Pine Street across from the First Republic Bank

We were in a van that used to be white, until someone had left on the street in a wrong part of town, and was now covered with graffiti. My brother Matt was driving, and I was riding shotgun, which was ironic, because the chick in the back kneeling and holding on to our seats (because there were no seats in the back) was actually carrying guns.

We met her only a half an hour earlier. Wait, let me back up.

In the Tenderloin of San Francisco where I lived, I had befriended a guy named Neil who was a bartender for banquets at the convention center. He was also a petty crook and hustler. Anyways, Neil had planned a crazy heist that I was an integral component. A friend of mine's roommate worked at PETA. My initial job was to find out where PETA kept the furs and steal the roommate's keys. What furs? PETA takes fur donations and then uses them in publicity stunts and protests. Neil wanted to steal them and sell them. Actually, it would be more accurate to say Neil wanted me to steal them and he would sell them. Due to his mannerisms and behavior, a lot of people thought that Neil was mentally retarded, or at least had some kind of learning disability, but it was all an act. It's hard to explain how he acted, you'd have to see him in action to know what I'm talking about. I think it may have come from some coping mechanism to avoid being teased when he was a kid. My brother thought he was brain damaged because Neil used to be an amateur boxer, but I still think it was all an act. Mainly because when it was just me and him, he seemed pretty sharp.

I easily got my friend's roommate to disclose the location of the furs (some lockers in the basement of their office building), and stealing her keys while we are all at dinner was not hard either. Convincing my brother to "find" a truck was the hard part, primarily because he was really into some video game at the time (Mortal Kombat, maybe).

A not so close but very sleazy friend of Neil's named Frankie was supplying the muscle, encase something went wrong. None of us were very tough and none of us wanted to get caught with guns or weapons while doing one of Neil's "capers," so Frankie supplied the person who would take the fall if it all went bad while at the same time covering our asses. We were waiting at the bar under my apartment, called Deco, when Frankie walked in with his arm around a petite Hispanic girl who looked no older than 19.

"This is Pantera. She'll be carrying the weapons."

Matt chuckled. "Pantera?"

"Pantera."

"I call bullshit."

"Damn it, Matt. It's an alias. A codename." Frankie was using a tone that was usually reserved to explaining things to small children.

"How come we don't get codenames?

"I thought your names were aliases! My real name is sure the hell not "Frankie.""

"Yeah, ours are aliases, too." I lied. "Just not cool ones like Pantera and Frankie."

"Pantera" was wearing black jeans, a black tank top, and a red and white leather motorcycle jacket and looked like she might weigh 100 pounds if that included the jacket. . . as well as her clunky boots. She was attractive, but I couldn't help but think that if she smiled she would probably be very attractive.

"She's the muscle. . .this Pantera?" Matt asked.

Frankie stood behind her, a good 2 feet taller and had both his hands on her shoulders. "Yeah, don't be deceived by her small stature, boys. Pantera here was a MP in the marines for 4 years."

Matt's expression said "No way." But that was the last he questioned her qualifications.

By the way she had a blank expression while the three of us talked about her as if she wasn't there, I was starting to think she couldn't speak English. But then she said, "Let's go. I got things to do tonight."

"Ok, good luck." Frankie turned her around and kissed her forehead, "You guys meet me in Daly City." And he left.

So, the three of us were sitting in the van outside PETA's San Francisco offices around 11PM. Despite what you may think, San Francisco is NOT one of those cities that never sleeps. It shuts down by 11PM, I think because of all the commuters, so Pine Street was deserted. Matt dropped us off and was drove around to the back of the 15 story tall building to the loading docks in the alley.

We walked into the building's dark foyer after I fumbled with the key ring trying to find the right key. Luckily, there were only 5 possible keys and I got it right with Key 3. There were no security cameras that I could tell. There were two elevators, so we pressed down and got into one. The doors closed with a little ding, and I had three likely buttons to choose from (2-15 were obviously not the basement). L was the lobby, so it had to B1 or B2. One of the B's was probably a parking garage so I randomly picked B1. We felt the elevator lurch a bit and then it stopped. A small light came on next to little sign that said "Call Elevator Service" and listed a number.

"Oh shit." I said, my mind scrambling for options.

"It's stuck?!?" Pantera asked while simultaneously stating the obvious.

"Yeah, but it has a service number available. And this big red "Alarm" button, too."

"We can't do that! Either of those."

"Right." I looked up at the impossibly high elevator ceiling for the infamous "emergency trap door" and after seeing its outline, I doubted a loaf of bread would fit through it. "So, what kind of gun are you carrying?" I was thinking, I do not want to be caught in this elevator with a woman with a gun.

She turned a round and lifted her jacket exposing two beefy automatic pistols criss-crossed in the small of her back in black canvas holsters. She also revealed a tattoo on her lower back of what appeared to be a hand flipping me off while holding a fist full of money.

"Two guns? Why do you carry two guns?"

She turned back around. "They're automatics. They might jam. So one's a back up."

"Why not use a revolver? They don't jam."

"Cause it only holds 6 shots."

"You could aim, that way you don't need all those bullets. Are you a bad shot or something?"

"Can you quit with the questions and fix this elevator?"

"Well. . .I'm not actually a skilled type of thief. This is the only tool I have" I opened my jacket revealing the bolt cutters I brought for the lockers' pad locks.

If I had a cell phone back then I would have called Matt to come in and see what he could do, but I just got my first cell phone in 2006. But what could he do? Knowing him he would laugh and say "just your luck!"

"Stand back, lady, let me try something." I couldn't get the nerve up to actually call her Pantera. She was chewing on her right thumbnail.

I got my fingertips into the crack of the elevator doors and pulled it open. I was hoping that we were halfway to B1 and could just drop down the rest of the way, but all we saw was a concrete wall. Someone had written "K19" in chalk about eye level.

"Crap." I said and let the doors shut. However, as soon as they shut the elevator lurched and the service light went off. And the doors opened a second later with us staring at an empty parking garage.

"Did you do that on purpose?" She asked, apparently thinking the whole incident was a practical joke.

"Nope. Let's take the stairs to B2."

We found the stairs, the key that fit the door at the bottom of the stairs, and eventually the storage room that another key opened. We also found the lockers, and emptied them of all their furs and transported the furs to the loading dock where Matt was waiting. I looked at my watch and it was only 11:22.

My cut of the furs was $2500 and paid for three months rent.

I never saw Pantera again.

Arguing Philosophy to Win

I'm not a great arguer, but I have had plenty of experience doing it with my ex-wives, girlfriends, family, and students. I don't tend to argue with my friends because I think I choose to be friends with people who are either easy going or think along the same lines that I do, or both.

Anyways, here's some tips straight from the Slacker's Handbook to help you win your next argument:

**Repeatedly force others to "define their terms" to buy time to think.

**Employ threatening hand gestures.

**Make things up as you go along (keep a straight face).

**Casually throw out fabricated quotations from important research studies or books that they will be too ashamed to admit they haven't read.

**Try to work in these key words: phenomenological, Jungian, deconstruction, phallocentrism, marginalization, etc.

**Make periodic use of non-verbal sighs and sounds of exasperation.

And as a last ditch resort:

**Call into question their mental health.

**Insult their mothers.

revealing is not for worldly use

I went through my spam today on gmail. Since I don't get any of those interesting Nigerian get rich quick emails, I usually just delete them all with out reading them. The ones I get want to either make my penis larger, sell me viagra, or want to hook me up with local women. But today I actually looked through them, not because they have convinced me that I would be more confident with a 14 inch penis, but because they all started looking really bad in the translation department.

I know you get the same spam, but humor me and check these out. They both make sense at first, and then the second part is just gibberish:

****Make your manhood large and in charge.
Gain 4+ inches over six months.
revealing is not for worldly use, but for

****Your one-stop destination for affordable quality medications.
We sell brand-name and exact equivalents.
All F|D|A approved through our fully-licensed pharm.

cannot choose, or vary in particulars, there it is good to take the safest, and secret, must be a dissembler in some degree. For men are too cunning, to suffer

And likewise with these, but they are even worse. They start out poorly translated and then spiral into bedlam. Its like the last part they just cut and pasted from some Kazakhstan local news webpage and plopped it straight into babelfish.com:

****Womens always laughed at me and even chaps did in the urban john!
Well, now I smil at them, because I took M_E_G. ADI. K
for 3 months and now my cock is indeed best than usual.
earn 223 Im a Hungarian Jew and denial. that whatever regulations they introduce do not do more harm than matter-of-factness that seemed to belie the size of the disaster. The setback it was a very difficult disclosure for George to make, some wondered

****Cuties always srieked at me and even gars did in the not private WC!
Well, now I whoop at them, because I took Me_ga. d_ik.
for 6 months and now my shaft is greatly longer than federal.
shop an 80% elected, 20% appointed chamber. Other options
over a long time, and not just during the recent rains
Chinese Foreign Minister Li Zhaoxing criticises
such companies make billions on the back of other
Lake Singkarak. At least 82 fatalities are currently

According to Sophos ( a company that makes security software for desktops, e-mail servers, and other network gateways) the major sources of spam so far in 2007 were the United States (the origin of 19.6% of spam messages), followed by China (8.4%) and South Korea (6.5%). When grouped by continents, spam comes mostly from Asia (35.2%), Europe (28.5%) and North America (24.2%).

With 35% of spam coming from Asia that does explain the poor translations, but what explains their fascination with big penises?? Or I guess I should say, why do they think we share their fascination with big penises?

Bizarre. . .I'm sure its one of the signs of the coming of the apocalypse:

"And you will hear wars and rumors of wars.
See that you are not troubled; for all these things must come to pass, but the end is not yet. For there will be famines, and there will be unheard phallic messages that plague you from the East, and there will be earthquakes. . ."

And finally, here's a pie-graph I got from McAfee's website of the types of Spam :




Yes. . ."Products and Services" must translate to "Make your manhood large and in charge. Gain 4+ inches over six months."

Me and Comcast are here to help you date

For some reason, the Comcast News webpage mixes in dating advice with the news. I'm thinking maybe my primary choice for a source of news lacks some credibility. There's a story on there now that lists the top five things that can screw up a first date. To summarize, they include:

1. Monopolizing the conversation (This one actually doesn't bother me that much, especially if the woman is nervous, because I understand that some people talk a lot when they are nervous. It helps if she has a musical quality to her voice, you know like that actress who played Glenda the Good Witch. But after the first couple of hours or so I'm thinking she should power down a few notches.)

2. Pretending to be someone you're not (To me this one is the worse. Saying "I love to go out and listen to local bands" does not translate to "I like to watch a lot of prime time TV shows and do NOT like to miss them." However, it is cute when a date tries to fake nerd interests: "Sure, I like that Spork on Star Trek as well as playing video Dungeons and Dragons on the inter-web.")

3. Practically proposing (Yes, this is what we call in the dating game as a "red flag")

4. Over sharing (Comcast suggests saving this stuff for therapy, not dating.)

5. Ignoring subtle cues (If I say "I love Memphis" you're probably not going come across as endearing when you say "Memphis? Thats a crime infested stink hole!")

Those are all valid, thank you Comcast. I would also like to add five more:

6. Talking about your pets as though they are actually children (I thought I was going to actually see a human being after I was asked "Want to see a photo of my 4 year old little boy?")

7. Not talking at all (Ok, ok, you are shy, but give me something to work with lady! Bring a sketch pad and we can communicate with Doodles like I did with that non-English speaking Chinese guy, Oscar, who I hung out with in grad school.)

8. Living with your ex-husband (Apparently more common that I thought. Its always awkward to drop you off and there's your ex-husband holding your 2 year old daughter at the door. He looks so sad )

9. Criticizing my fashion sense (I don't know what to say. I like black. And believe or not, I agonized over what to wear on the first date. Since my mom stopped buying me clothes 20 years ago, my choice of clothing is part of who I am. Constructive criticism is ok though. . .after all, ditching the bomber jacket from US Male didn't hurt that much.)

10. Trying to kill me (That's always a turn off.)

a bunch of little blogs

Instead of bombarding you with a bunch of little blogs (blogettes), I lumped a bunch of the together.

Part One: "You cannot always trust my mother"

I've talked about my thoughts on people who think their great grand mothers were Cherokee Indians in a past blogs, but the topic has reared its head again. I was talking to my mom last night about me looking for job at the university level, and I told her I was afraid schools were looking for a more diverse populations of teachers since the field is disproportionately white.

Mom: "You should tell them that you are Native American." (lie 1)

Me: "Why would I do that?"

Mom: "Because you are. It says on my birth certificate that my father was born in a Native American location." (lie 2)

Me: "It says Oklahoma, mom, and people other than Native Americans are ALSO born in Oklahoma."

Mom: "Well, it also says that he is a Native American." (lie 3)

Me: "It does not, mom. Why didn't you say that first? Show it to me the next time I come down there."

Mom: "Its on there! I'll have to find it, I've got it locked away somewhere and don't remember where it is right now." (Lie 4)

Me: "Mom, I'm skeptical and I'm your son, just think how skeptical a hiring committee is going to be when I walk in fish belly white with green eyes."

Mom: "Well, I can't help that. I know what my father was."

Yep. . .if nothing else, pigheaded stubborness will see us through.

Part Two: "I like to think of them as simulations"

For the holiday season, reports are out saying that video games are still violent and that they are training kids to kill people. Other reports say that video games are getting even MORE violent, but I'm not sure about that, since the first video game I played was Doom and in you used a chainsaw to rip people up. . .its hard to out-violence that.

However, they may be onto something in regards to training us. I was in the army and we had video games that we used for training and we called them "simulations." Along that line of thinking, I agree with Thomas Jefferson that a government should be afraid of its people, not the other way around. . .maybe our blood lust video game training will keep them on their toes.

Part Three: "(Sigh) Hello, Laura Beth."

I increased my jog today back up to five miles and I was sucking wind. . .hard. I've been doing 3 miles for too long, I guess. It was cold today so I wore a black sweatshirt, shorts, and a black tobogan/stocking cap.

As I lumbered up the stairs breathing very much like an overweight man who just jogged 5 miles, my nextdoor neighbor, Laura Beth, came out of her apartment. She has a knack of catching me at my most awkward, vulnerable, clumsy, goofy moments. And to her credit (and usually to my detriment), she is outgoing and not shy.

Laura Beth: "Hey, Daniel. Still jogging?"

Me: (panting) "Yeah. . . .Hello, Laura Beth."

Laura Beth: "Dressed like that, you kind of look like a World War II British commando."

Me: (gasping) "Really?"

Laura Beth: "Actually, more like a World War II re-enactor, maybe."

She might be thinking of that scene in Animal House where John Belushi dresses in black to do a night mission. . .