*takes huge breath in*IloveyouDavidLynch
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
There Are No Words
*takes huge breath in*IloveyouDavidLynch
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Solo Trip - First Day
And so ends the first day. With a deer. Possibly an evil deer.It's Midnight MST and I'm exhausted from jet lag, work, and editing. So this may be a little
My co-worker Marcel and I met for the first time shortly after the previous entry was posted, although we've interacted electronically here and there for a year. He's a super nice guy and the first Venezuelan I've ever met.
Plus we both look younger than we are so that's cool. I pegged him as mid- to late-twenties. Nope. Hermano is thirty-six with three kids. I hope I look that good when I get there.
After spending a few of our remaining Sunday hours on location and meeting Tim (another hella nice IT guy, who says "fer" like me) we decided to get some food. I still felt slightly nauseous if I moved my head too fast, but I was starving. We followed Tim's directions and found a Mexican joint that happened to be closed, but luckily a Thai restaurant was near at hand. Being laid-back fellas we quickly decided that was good enough. Marcel tried a Thai iced tea for the first time and enjoyed it, along with all but licking (ha, butt licking) his plate clean. For my part I made a sizable dent in my tofu Pad Thai but had to take a bunch of it home. In all our getting-to-know-you talk I left the white cube of food at my table, and a very nice Asian woman braved the rain/snow to run it out to me.
Speaking of which, everyone here is nice. I've typed that word a hundred times already, but everyone here is just so nice. Wait staff, other drivers, tourists, everyone. And genuinely, too, not like that east coast stuff we have going for us. I truly believe they're all just good people who'd give me a blanket or a tow if I needed it and wouldn't mind one bit. I love Virginia but it feels good to be in the part of the country I grew up in.
After dinner Marcel and I retired to our rooms and I tried in vain to find something on TV. Really, ScyFy? What is this shit? I used to love you man, but you've changed. All night there was nothing on at all. Have you ever seen the beginning of the original Superman movie? They basically play the whole god-damn film with badly ripped off Star Wars credits. I thought I was watching the end and they were recaping.
Luckily the lovely Kasey was available for phone time, and we talked until we were both exhausted and had to sleep. It reminded me of our long distance courtship. As did the way in which I "slept" like utter shit, if fading out of consciousness for twenty minutes at a time can be called sleep. Sleeping alone is total, total rubbish.
Seven o'clock came early, and I risked a glance in the mirror. I looked and felt like a mugshot. I hopped in the shower and almost orgasmed as both the temperature and pressure melted the tension in my back and made me believe in life again. Which isn't the only great thing about the suite I got put up in. It's spacious, colorful, has a kitchen, desk, big TV, wifi, and comfortable enough bed. I could easily spend more than four days here, if it wasn't for the lack of familial necessities.
I met Marcel for our complimentary breakfast and we both reported slow starts to the day. He read the sports section while I ate grapefruit and yogurt. A multicultural current moved around the compact dining area and I noted two news stories of dangerous animals appearing in populated areas. One was a large alligator in a bathroom and the other was a mountain lion in someone's backyard. I watched as a woman fired a tranquilizer dart from a rifle and mused aloud that I would love that job, as I love to shoot but hate to kill. Marcel told me he doesn't hurt a fly and shoos insects outside (including a tarantula in Haiti once) whenever the occasion calls. Nice guy, that Marcel; he's making a very good impression for Venezuela.
Work went by well. We got a lot done and everyone was helpful and friendly as we discovered the process of moving them over to our network. I took about fifteen pictures of Pike's Peak from office windows as the day went on. In the course of giving us a run down of all the things we had to see in Colorado, one woman off-handedly informed us that the purchase of marijuana was legal in Colorado. I have no idea how this is possible or why I didn't know it before. You'd think it'd be news or something, like when states legalize gay marriage. Maybe I need to read the paper more.
Hunger hit hard around Three and we finally left for lunch. We gave the Mexican place another try, and I had The Best burrito ever. The size of of my son's thigh (which is large, just sayin') and covered in cheese, all the vegetable innards were baked and actually seasoned. I think chefs hate vegetarians and shun us when it comes to giving us the good stuff, but not in Colorado Springs. I wish I had one right now to cuddle with as I fall asleep. Then Marcel busts out with a dessert order of Tres Leches, which is basically a brick of white cake with three kinds of thick, sweet milk poured on it and topped with coconut whipped cream. Yeah, exactly.
I don't know how we did it, being full of that awesomenes, but we got a bit more done at the office before exploring downtown Colorado Springs. We couldn't find any parking so we just drove in circles and took pictures out of the windows before heading to The Garden of the Gods. The visitor center was closed (pft, government hours), but the park itself welcomed us with family photo ops and three deer. We pulled over and took pictures, and I even tried to get Kasey on Skype to show her the prettiness, but I had no signal. Apparently it worked enough though that Jonas saw me and waved, which just breaks my heart. I miss that little jerk.
It kinda started raining so we left and found the Wells Fargo ATM we'd been hunting for down town. Unfamiliar grocery stores always freak me out a little, hitting home the point more than anything that I'm not in Kansas anymore. (I'm not sure if that sentence makes sense, just go with it please.) We took the long way home (thanks entirely to my 3G iPad and Google Maps) and saw more mountains, clouds, and deer. We tried to take pictures, but point-and-shoots can only do so much from a car window in the failing light of evening. I've been spoiled by Kasey's DSLRs and almost can't stand the tiny Olympus I brought with me.
Sadly Jonas fell asleep right as I got in, but Kasey and I spent an enjoyable couple of hours on Skype and our cellies, making faces and watching Cure videos. I showed her my room and she answered Lightroom questions until she needed to go keep Jonas company in our bed.
And then somehow photo/video editing and blogging turned into 1:00am. I suspect I'm getting drone-y, so feast your eyes on yonder Flickr fruits:
Hopefully I'm tired enough to actually sleep, now.
David
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Solo Trip - The Leavening
Presently I'm in Colorado Springs on business, having left my home and my family early this morning to help migrate an office building full of people to my company's network. I'll be here until Thursday, and I believe this is the farthest west I've been since Kasey and I drove everything I could pack from Arizona to Virginia in two days.
I enjoy travel. The packing, the planning, airports and people watching. I even mostly enjoy flying, even though I get sick enough to get the sweats at the tinniest bit of turbulence. Taking off from Chicago to Colorado I really thought I was going to throw up for about forty-five minutes. Luckily a combination of chilly air blasting in my face and emergency meditation techniques kept my coffee and parfait down.
It feels weird not to have my partner with me. We're such constant companions that her absence is forgotten and then realized like the fresh loss of a limb. I turn to tell her things, make a joke, touch her hand, things I do all day, everyday without even thinking, but she's not there. Sleeping alone these next three nights is going to be foreign and difficult. And the days without Jonas aren't going to feel right, not one bit. I had to say goodbye at home; I wouldn't have been able to stand our farewells in the heightened emotional environment of the Norfolk International Airport.
But this should be fun. I love my job and have never been on a business trip before, so beneath the sadness of separation I'm excited. Colorado seems like a cool state, and it will be nice to actually meet some of the people I work with, three and half hours of Virginia and D.C. traffic between us most times. We might visit The Garden of the Gods, and I think I love hotels more than airports even.
More later, with pics!
David
Thursday, April 07, 2011
I Am a Sailor, and You Are the Sea
I have been compelled to your side since the beginning, even before our adventures in the places that have become my home; the hotel rooms on the shores of a river and the ocean, the antique neighborhoods, the playgrounds with their soft wooden carpeting, the airport that I learned to love and hate.
I could not stay away. Even if the awareness of how my actions must have looked to others hadn't been of a wholly peripheral nature, I would not have been swayed. I never second-guessed my decisions, and there was never any fear. I knew before the end of our first meeting that I would be joining you in your land by the sea (regardless of your opinion on the matter), a land that seemed doubly real with the weight of celebrity as you showed me the places of your life.
In time I learned the seven cities and how to navigate in and between them, although it took longer than I expected. Longer still was the lesson of how to navigate your waters and read the weather of your moods. My long but sparse experience was with an entirely different caliber of woman. You are a force of nature. I had to learn to endure the storms and enjoy the sun as it came. I can no more influence you than I can the tides--yet I am at your mercy as they are the moon's.
Often I am terrified by you, and the power you have. Like a savage with an idol, it's unclear who really possesses who. Only during certain rituals are the roles briefly reversed, and even then I'm performing sacrifices to please you. One such ritual brought into creation the most beautiful human being we've ever seen, from a pain and a strength no man can fathom.
A sailor doesn't give up the sea or a farmer his land, even when their backs are bowed and their knuckles broken from toil. There is something unnameable in their struggle that gives their lives an anchor, a meaning. Something no man mentions but every man knows. Beneath the complaints and the hidden pain we know it's worth it, that to struggle is to be alive, and without it we are dead. We may not choose how things begin, but there always comes a point when we have to choose to keep them going. Giving up is easy--reasons are never in short supply. It's going on that's hard. And once you've survived, once you've felt a force of nature take notice, all else pales. There is no going back to the easy and the mundane, not without losing the spark of a hard-won treasure.
And what a treasure you are. Despite the well-meaning lies of fairytales and fictions, it is not a common occurrence to experience years of time-stopping happiness from the mere proximity of another person, yet I find myself in that exact situation. While perhaps some of the novelty of being near you has faded, the awe and appreciation of your presence has not. Every day you catch me gazing from across the room or just a cushion away, and my reason is always the same: I just like looking at you. Your face, with its feline craftiness and overcast eyes, speaks of nature's skill for the beautiful, the simple, and the unique. While almost everyone looks like someone else, no one looks like you. My earliest and long-lasting preferences in the physical attributes of the fairer sex parallel your own so closely that, if I was but a little more naive, I'd believe it to be fate. Which also accounts for my inability to resist the touch of you, even after more than fifteen-hundred days together, when most people feel their desire waning.
Your singularity in a world of dopplegangers doesn't end with mere form. Our first encounters happened at a purely intellectual level, and it is there that I first fell in love with you. You are unlike anyone I have ever met. You value common sense above all else and put it to use daily, yet there is no shortage of frivolity in your life. Your far-reaching taste in music is respected and valued by everyone who knows you, as are your opinions on film and literature. Your work ethic is characterized by proficiency in both the working world and your art. Your personal style comes through in everything you do. Those of us you let near realize our luck and, if I can be allowed to extrapolate from my own experience, feel pride at finding ourselves counted among your friends. And like a traveller who's spirits have been raised by the warm sun on his back, it's all the more cold and miserable once it goes away again.
I fought to be with you across thousands of miles, and I've continued to fight, these four years, to be at your side. There have been times when it seemed I had lost, there were times when I knew I was winning, but I have never given up. Even in the secret depths of desperation where the mind runs to fantasy for momentary respite, I have never wanted anything than to possess and be possessed by you.
And while all things must change, some constants do endure. It's a childish hope, and a thorn I daily place in my own side, but the thought remains: Why not this? It's the closest thing I have to a prayer.
So with a fool's hope in my heart and my own smile on my face, I have lashed myself to the mast, eyes to the horizon. Because I'm sure as hell not going anywhere.
I could not stay away. Even if the awareness of how my actions must have looked to others hadn't been of a wholly peripheral nature, I would not have been swayed. I never second-guessed my decisions, and there was never any fear. I knew before the end of our first meeting that I would be joining you in your land by the sea (regardless of your opinion on the matter), a land that seemed doubly real with the weight of celebrity as you showed me the places of your life.
In time I learned the seven cities and how to navigate in and between them, although it took longer than I expected. Longer still was the lesson of how to navigate your waters and read the weather of your moods. My long but sparse experience was with an entirely different caliber of woman. You are a force of nature. I had to learn to endure the storms and enjoy the sun as it came. I can no more influence you than I can the tides--yet I am at your mercy as they are the moon's.
Often I am terrified by you, and the power you have. Like a savage with an idol, it's unclear who really possesses who. Only during certain rituals are the roles briefly reversed, and even then I'm performing sacrifices to please you. One such ritual brought into creation the most beautiful human being we've ever seen, from a pain and a strength no man can fathom.
A sailor doesn't give up the sea or a farmer his land, even when their backs are bowed and their knuckles broken from toil. There is something unnameable in their struggle that gives their lives an anchor, a meaning. Something no man mentions but every man knows. Beneath the complaints and the hidden pain we know it's worth it, that to struggle is to be alive, and without it we are dead. We may not choose how things begin, but there always comes a point when we have to choose to keep them going. Giving up is easy--reasons are never in short supply. It's going on that's hard. And once you've survived, once you've felt a force of nature take notice, all else pales. There is no going back to the easy and the mundane, not without losing the spark of a hard-won treasure.
And what a treasure you are. Despite the well-meaning lies of fairytales and fictions, it is not a common occurrence to experience years of time-stopping happiness from the mere proximity of another person, yet I find myself in that exact situation. While perhaps some of the novelty of being near you has faded, the awe and appreciation of your presence has not. Every day you catch me gazing from across the room or just a cushion away, and my reason is always the same: I just like looking at you. Your face, with its feline craftiness and overcast eyes, speaks of nature's skill for the beautiful, the simple, and the unique. While almost everyone looks like someone else, no one looks like you. My earliest and long-lasting preferences in the physical attributes of the fairer sex parallel your own so closely that, if I was but a little more naive, I'd believe it to be fate. Which also accounts for my inability to resist the touch of you, even after more than fifteen-hundred days together, when most people feel their desire waning.
Your singularity in a world of dopplegangers doesn't end with mere form. Our first encounters happened at a purely intellectual level, and it is there that I first fell in love with you. You are unlike anyone I have ever met. You value common sense above all else and put it to use daily, yet there is no shortage of frivolity in your life. Your far-reaching taste in music is respected and valued by everyone who knows you, as are your opinions on film and literature. Your work ethic is characterized by proficiency in both the working world and your art. Your personal style comes through in everything you do. Those of us you let near realize our luck and, if I can be allowed to extrapolate from my own experience, feel pride at finding ourselves counted among your friends. And like a traveller who's spirits have been raised by the warm sun on his back, it's all the more cold and miserable once it goes away again.
I fought to be with you across thousands of miles, and I've continued to fight, these four years, to be at your side. There have been times when it seemed I had lost, there were times when I knew I was winning, but I have never given up. Even in the secret depths of desperation where the mind runs to fantasy for momentary respite, I have never wanted anything than to possess and be possessed by you.
And while all things must change, some constants do endure. It's a childish hope, and a thorn I daily place in my own side, but the thought remains: Why not this? It's the closest thing I have to a prayer.
So with a fool's hope in my heart and my own smile on my face, I have lashed myself to the mast, eyes to the horizon. Because I'm sure as hell not going anywhere.
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