Time Travel at Normal Speed.

Well, I don't know what brought you to do it, but you wound up back here.  I appreciate it.  It makes me think, "Oh man, I am really cool and some people think I'm both funny and a genius."  Some people in this life don't really get to feel that way.  Unless he/she is really pretentious and in love with him/herself.  Which, the case still may be that deep down inside he/she actually feels inadequate and needs to make up for that by pretending to be funny and a genius.  I don't know.  I'm not a psychologist.

I'm not a lot of things.  Have you figured that one out yet?  Right, of course you have.  Right now I'm a guy in his fuzzy pajama-jam pants and t-shirt, drinking Sakura Allure green tea (one of the new installments to the Teavana selection), and listening to Dredg's "The Pariah, The Parrot, The Delusion".  Comfy day after Halloween.

Unsure of what to post this week, but I had a few ideas.  Let's roll with one of them.

Now, as some of you may or may not know, I was once a fat kid.  That thing to the left?  Fat kid.  Fourteen years old.  Spring of eighth grade, 2001.  As you can tell, I wasn't really socially conscious, either, which didn't really help my weak, adolescent self-esteem, which I can go more in depth on another time with both funny and scarring anecdotes.  And my looks?  I don't even think the 90's would've allowed it (and they did allow a lot).  First of all, I'm wearing a ridiculous early 90's Hawaiian shirt ("But Michael, how do you know it's from the early 90's?" "Because It was once my father's and he got it when we went to Hawaii in 1991.  I wore it back then because I thought Hawaiian shirts were 'in'").  I also had quite the bowl cut for many years.  Glance over to exhibit B.

                                         Exhibit B.
(The only way you can make this cuter is if you were to staple new born kittens to this child.)

Yeah, ever since I was a tot I was graced with a golden bowl atop my crown.  And pinchable cheeks.  Which, however you look at it, could be a blessing, or something you wish you could do away with altogether so that people wouldn't think your six years younger than you are (See "How I Spend My October" for an in depth explanation). 

The point of all of this being is that, yesterday morning, at about 7 am Central Standard Time, I registered myself for the GO! St. Louis Marathon, something I've been anticipating to accomplish for about a year.  Now, as you may remember, loyal followers, I did mention in "Going the Extra Mile" that this is one of my life goals.  After I realized a year ago that I can run more than a couple miles at one time, I figured I could continue to add on the miles.  A marathon will just be a very drawn out, two mile run.  I'm excited, but mostly terrified.  I may or may not die.  This may be the last thing I accomplish in life.  If this is so, speak with Phillip Freeman.  He knows best on how to prepare my funeral.  There will be a cake and everything.

But in all seriousness, I'm really excited about training and actually going through with it.  A lot of the things I actually accomplished in my life that were notable I was pressured into doing.  Maybe pressured isn't the right word, but I was coaxed to accomplish certain goals that weren't necessarily completely my own.  This goal, though, is mine.  No one told me to do it.  I'm completely choosing to do it, and the reward from that feels even more special.  Then again, perhaps that smiling fat kid in picture one is actually telling me to do it.  "You've got this far.  You've rearranged yourself so that you'll never be this again.  Keep going.  Keep growing."  He probably doesn't care.  If he were here to speak with me he would ask, "Sooo...do you get a lot of girls now?"  I would then sit him down and fill him in on a lot of things.  Not just girls, but his future and my past in general.  But mostly about women.  I need to prepare him for the things that are about to happen to him.

Now, you take all of what I said, think about it for a half hour, then just forget about it and move on with life like you normally do.  But remember!  Be back here next week.  Surely there will be more luscious word gold to wade through.

Until then.

More Universal Discussions

Currently listening to:                 Elliott Smith.  From a Basement on the Hill.

Remarkable album, really.  About a year ago I finally initiated my Elliott Smith fandom and purchased Roman Candle.  It's pretty bare bones as far as instrumentation, which makes for nice driving music.  The stuff he wrote at the end of his life is probably the best.  If you ever get around to it, listen to this album or Figure 8.  Not that I've been sent here by the record companies to convince you to up the sales of Elliott Smith albums.  That's not what it's about.  It's just fantastic music, and of course Youtube will have all of his songs.  Check it out, jam out.  Realize the sweet sound of Elliott and his heartfelt songwriting.

So it's the middle of the week.  The slow part here, and what that means for you is more random posts about life, the universe, and everything.

What if I had wrote, "...and everyfig"?  Would you have thought, "Geez, can't this guy review his own work to make sure it makes sense?  What a goober!" or would you have thought, "He is going to talk about every single fig.  Remarkable"?

It's been a long weekend, readers, but rewarding in some respects.  On Thursday nights I get together with a group from church to have dinner and Bible study.  It's called Pulse and mainly consists of twenty-something graduates who are now making it as young professionals in the world.  Every so often we get together to do some outreach and this last Saturday we went to a little park off of Locust and 14th to cook and serve breakfast to the homeless who live around there.  Although getting up at 4:30 am to get ready and make it there by 6 is not my favorite thing, seeing people getting loved and fed is well worth it.  We had over a hundred people come to line up and eat the fresh bacon and eggs we grilled right there on little camper grills.  We also cut up some fruit and handed out juice and water.  It's wonderful to see their joy and to know that this is exactly what Christ was doing all those years ago: serving those who are left to the side and forgotten and making them feel they are worth the time and work.

Rest of the weekend consisted of a lot of Teavana.  Which is always a lovely experience.  There I'm serving a different sort of people, people with money with my goal being to help them drop some more money.  Gotta love retail.

We do have some new tea stuff, which I guess is cool.  I'm not going to buy it.  Except for "Slimful Chocolate Decadence" oolong tea.  I hate the name, but the tea is so good.  They should call it, "Mounds Bar Tea".  "Slimful Chocolate Decadence" is a name you give some food product women would eat (No misogynist).  Seriously though, first it has the word, "Slimful".  Already, it's saying, "Hey, you there!  You fat?  Feel fat?  You won't after this!" Next it has chocolate.  We all know that chocolate is catnip for women.  Finally, "Decadence".  That sounds like, "Oooh, your doing something your not supposed to (but enjoying it), but it's okay because we preceded this entire statement with 'Slimful'".   My mom bought cereal last week.  She bought "Special K Granola".  I'm already confused about my masculinity due to the foods I'm eating.

Dear Teavana,
Stop selling to just women on this one and call "Slimful Chocolate Decadence" "Mounds Bar Fun".  Everyone loves fun.  Name someone who does not love fun.  Okay, that person sucks, name someone else.  Good.  Copyright infringement with "Mounds Bar" from Mars Bar company?  Fine.  Call it, "Tropical Chocolate Mountain Race".  See, I threw in race to slip in that, "You won't be fat if you drink this".  Genius.  Take care Tea Lords,

XOXO
Michael Lee

No more word on the elevators or bathroom stalls.  I let you know as further news breaks.

And I think we're done for the day.  Thanks for coming and hanging out.  See you about the same time next week.

"This can't go on all the time -- all this franticness and jumping around. We've got to go some place, find something."

Jack Kerouac wrote a few great books, and in those books, he had a few really good lines. Last summer I went to a used book shop about fifteen minutes from where I live to see what treasures were nestled amongst the stained and tattered classics (Thank God for second hand bookstores, by the way). I stumbled upon a copy of Jack Kerouac's claim to fame, On the Road. The summer before was when I first discovered Kerouac. Back then I was more so emersed into my vagabond dreams, so finding Kerouac was like finding a lost love. I picked up Dharma Bums skimmed a few pages, and realized this Kerouac fellow and I were going to get along nicely. Anyway, I found a lightly used copy of On the Road with some bends in the corners and some ink outlining the O of On. Nothing much, still in rather fine condition, and I only had to spend $6 rather than the $15 it was originally priced when it was new (See why second hand bookstores are fantastic?) Anyway, I grabbed it with a certain glee because I loved Dharma Bums and this book, On the Road, is his Stairway to Heaven to his Led Zeppelin, or his Star Wars to his George Lucas. If that made any sense.

So I spend some of the summer reading it (I have my hand in some other books at the time as well...which has become a habit since I've been in this English Major gig. It used to be sacrilege to me to start another book while I was reading another. Now I just don't care.) As I read it, I still have that childish mentality that comes with almost anyone who reads Kerouac: I want to leave and go west to, live off the road, no home, loose friendships, and a destination as uncertain as the Second Coming of Christ. That seemed to be the life for me, and that's why I read ol' Jack.

I finish the book sometime in October, and all the time I had spent reading it (And a commentary along with it called Why Kerouac Matters: Lessons from On the Road by John Leland) I tried to reconcile the true message of the book with that of my previous notions and wild, insane dreams. It couldn't be done. Truth is, the book isn't necessarily about being a vagabond, rucksack wanderer traveling from one place to the next with no end in sight; "We've got to find some place, find something."

I don't really know what prompted this post, or if this is really what I had originally intended when I signed into the site. All the same, I'll keep going. I've got this far.

Maybe what prompted this is the "franticness". Things have felt crazy the last month. Things have felt crazy for a long time. Such is life. For me, I don't see an end, a beginning, and part of me still wants to go on that big vagabond journey. There has to be some big to do in which I'm finally propelled from the nest. I'm waiting for it. Trying to find it. Maybe I've just read too many stories, like The Odyssey, The Hobbit, Neverwhere, Stardust, ect. ect., where the main character has to go on this great quest. Leave the home, prove himself (or herself...sorry ladies), grow, gather a broader understanding of the world around them, and come back changed. Then settle down. What's the end to every action movie (or almost every)? Love.

Here is the quote that I used in the title with a bit more context:
"'I want to marry a girl,' I told them, 'so I can rest my soul with her till we both get old. This can't go on all the time -- all this franticness and jumping around. We've got to go some place, find something.'"

Yeah. There's an end. Making a home and family is at the end. We take all we learned from the world and adventuring so we can know how to raise kids and take care of the wife.

Unfortunately, Kerouac didn't have this in his life. Sal Paradise, the literary representation of Kerouac in On the Road, made it to the end with someone to potentially settle down with. As a matter of fact he chooses her over Dean Moriarity, the character who pulls him onto the road, and not just once but several times. Sal makes the decision to finally rest his soul with Laura, and ceases the madness with Dean. Kerouac did find a girl, Joan Haverty, but this was very short lived and tragic. As a matter of fact the rest of his life was rather tragic, and in the introduction to his novel Desolation Angels Joyce Johnson writes, "'A quiet life' became his stated goal, but he couldn't imagine how to achieve it."

When I first read this, I laughed, as Phil and I have joked about "The Quiet Life" which seems to be exactly what Kerouac was aiming for: a life without a woman. After reading the intro to Desolation Angels I felt I would rather not take Jack's path. At times I really admire his free spirit, go wherever the road takes ya sort of attitude. Even the "Crap man, I don't need a woman" seems rational. But it only takes you so far. And you have to find home sometime.

Still, I don't know what I was getting at. I rambled for too long. In conclusion, I love Jack Kerouac and all of his Dharma bummin', beatnik novels. But there's a lesson to be learned, and I wish I could've said it in a more concise manner and a bit more poignatly, but this was the best I could do. Its 3:23 in the morning. Lay off.

But one day I've got to find my road. And then, hopefully, rest my soul with another soul who's willing.

Goodnight followers. I leave you with this:

"It was remarkable how Dean could go mad and then suddenly continue with his soul -- which I think is wrapped up in a fast car, a coast to reach, and a woman at the end of the road -- calmly and sanely as though nothing had happened" - Once again, from Kerouac's On the Road