Steellover

I just got back from Christmas break with the family a couple days ago.  I've read a couple blogs about people's Christmas experiences, some experiences were positive, others not so much.  It was certainly a mixed bag for me.  On one hand, I got to relax and sleep in and see family and that was great.  On the other...it rained most of the time so I was cooped up indoors, and, my favorite uncle died.

But, sucky as that was, this post isn't about that.  This post is about...

....Baseball.

Because, my uncle was a huge sports fan and baseball was his passion. Both coaching little league, and watching the game; he had been around the game his whole life.  He lived a long, fulfilling life, both around sports and family.  In his last few months, he had suffered severe brain damage that had left him a vegetable, so his passing at age 93, just three days before Christmas, was not unexpected and in a way kind of a blessing.  But I don't want to make this a "sad" post; he loved watching his San Francisco Giants, and so did I, and so instead I'll honor him and talk about my first baseball game.

June 1979...  I'm still just a little kid then, and the Giants were having a so-so season; they'd finish just below .500 that year.  One morning, my uncle came over and announced "I'm taking you guys out to the ballgame!" My cousins were huge into sports, much more so than me; I was only a novice whose interests lie more in "Star Wars" and those cheesy TV space-themed shows that were on at that time.  So we get out to "The Stick," as the now-defunct Candlestick Park was known.  My dad, brother, two cousins and my uncle.

We were playing the Astros.  Ed Halicki was pitching for the Giants that day. Good old Ed had been a pretty good pitcher for us, and had even thrown a no-hitter a few years before; and it would be more than 30 years before any Giants pitcher repeated that feat.  But old Ed certainly didn't have his best stuff that day, that's for sure.  In the first inning, the Giants scratched out a run by stringing together a couple base hits and a sacrifice fly, and not long after, they still had two men on base with two outs.  Then, this guy, Willie McCovey, stepped up to the plate. McCovey was an aging slugger who had been a huge star in the 1960's and 70's, and had spent almost his entire career with San Francisco.  And...late in his career though he was, he still had it!  CRACK!  That ball carried clear over the center field fence!  OUTAHERE!  Just like that, it was four-nothing Giants.  As an impressionable kid, I couldn't even express how excited this was. In my first live game I witnessed, a legendary hitter gets a three run home run- you bet I was stoked!

But alas, Halicki began to crack after inning number four, and by inning 5, that four run lead had evaporated- and Halicki was yanked from the mound.  And soon, it because 5-4 Astros, then 6-4 Astros (as the bullpen wasn't faring much better) and by the 9th inning it was 7-5 favor Houston.  Though the Giants tried to rally, they scored just one more run late in the game and it ended up in the record books as a Giants loss.  I was heartbroken.  The Giants would, in fact, break my heart many times over the years before finally winning their first of three titles in 2010. 

But nonetheless, I left the stadium that day as a Giants fan and would remain one for life.  My uncle and cousins, who knew the game probably better than anyone who hadn't actually played it professionally, seemed to have memorized the stats of every player on the field and it was fun to listen to them and learn about the game from them.

So, my uncle's gone, and baseball season doesn't start for a few months, and I'm not so sure about the Giants' prospects this year. (The Dodgers have such a stacked roster it's hard to imagine anyone but them winning the division.)  But I will always remember him for his love of baseball and for him introducing me to the game.  Thanks for reading.

Everyone has "New Years Resolutions."  

I look at it differently; I look at it the way all those white collar jobs people look at it, what are your "Goals" for next year.

A ton of people, myself included, always cringe at those mandatory requests, put together a list of "Goals" for the year and things you want to achieve. (Fail at them, and you get a bad performance review.  Baaah! One of those "office space" type workplace annoyances!)

It's different when it's your personal life though.  You can be hard on yourself, but it's not like a job-related performance review like we all hate, because your livelihood literally depends on it. What are some life goals? For example,  "Lose Weight, Exercise more."  Almost everyone has listed this as a new years resolution at some point in their lives; probably even super athletes list these at some point.  So this one, for me, goes without saying.  Nothing wrong with wanting to live a healthy lifestyle.  But then it's an ongoing goal, rather than a "Resolution."  Goals are something you work on to improve your self and are not always a concrete tangible objective.

Other personal goals?  Seek healthy and lasting relationships.  Both friendship and romantic ones.  I am lucky to have some great friends, but I haven't been as successful at having healthy romantic ones.  This is a goal to work on.

Get the house re-painted, get an instagram account set up.  These are tangible things I should probably get done, and I've kind of been putting them off.  I have all year though.

And finally, a personal goal of mine: create more interesting blog posts.  Hopefully the next one will be more interesting than this one.

So, here's a less stressful and hopefully fun post. Trying to lighten the mood, maybe.

I remember when my little brother turned 8, and I was like 10 or 11, he got this plastic space helmet with a red see-thru visor for his 8th birthday. Back in those days, kids birthdays were always held at the Chuck E. Cheese pizza, because they had a ton of video games there, along with animitronic robots who would periodically do this corny song and dance thing. (And pizza. Almost forgot that last thing.)  So, quarters in hand, we all would go nuts playing stuff like Pac Man, Asteroids, Defender, Centipede, Tempest, and, my favorite- Xevious.  But my brother was wearing his brand new plastic space helmet in the arcade, blasting away at space invaders, bugs, and giant space rocks, and all the other 7 and 8 year olds thought he was the coolest kid in the whole place.  Everyone wanted to be like my brother, with his spiffy plastic space helmet.  Except me and my fellow 11 year olds, who snarkily thought, man, what a dork.

So, the next year, I turned 12, and got a Dungeons and Dragons t-shirt for my birthday.  Stoked!.  The previous year, us kids had discovered Dungeons and Dragons, and we thought we were the coolest kids ever.  It was a fun game and fun way to escape with some dice and a crude hand drawn map full of orcs, trolls, and undead monsters.  So I proudly wore that shirt to soccer practice and thought I was hot shit.  But a few kids, who were a couple years older than me, said, man, Dungeons and Dragons?  You're into that?  You are such a dork!

Then, before we were even of legal age to drink, drink we did, and thought we were the coolest kids ever.  "Beer and Bong Hits dude! Lets Get Fucked Up!"  went the common refrain. Us college aged kids, proudly bragging about how many beers and how many shots we had the previous night.  Sometimes we'd encounter old dudes who were as wasted as we were.  We always thought, at the time, "Man, that dude needs to be in A.A.  I hope I'm not still doing that shit when I'm 40!  By the way, I need another beer.  Hey Noa, wanna pack another bowl?"

And I see these kids now, many of them barely 21, at bars and clubs (When I have the occasion to go out) and think, man, what a bunch of drunken idiots.  Were we really that obnoxious?  Well, yeah, I guess we were.  I'm thankfully pretty much a lightweight these days.

But I did get a lot of grief back in High School for liking Iron Maiden, Slayer, and Metallica.  "You like that loud metal crap?  Geez, you are such a dork!" the preppy and/or jocky kids would say to me.  Flash forward, however many years ago that was- and, well, I can't help it; I still like Iron Maiden, Slayer, and Metallica.  I guess I'm just a big dork.

I can't do it anymore.  I just can't. 

The superficial love, getting involved with women who only use me, and my submissive nature to get me to buy them expensive things.  Pay to play, buy me this, buy me that, I need money to help with this, thankyou babe, see you next time.  Well,  I don't wan't to play anymore.  I want something real, some lasting companionship, mutual respect and love- if there even is such a thing.   But I can't keep getting involved with gold diggers.  That's been my only source of companionship of late.  Its my fault, too;  I chose to seek out these types, the pros, the players.  So you don't need to feel bad for me.  It's my own addiction, drawn to the to bad girls, money diggers, pay to play types, and it's all I have.  But I can't do it anymore. There has to be something else. Something better.  

She was all I have right now, but yet I want to quit. I got to.  She doesn't love me (I'm just a source of income to her) but I want to love her, and I can't.  There can never be that.  Money can buy you love, or rather, at least what you can pretend is love, but as the requests for things pile up, eventually you can't even pretend anymore.   I don't want to go through this again. Sorry.  Sorry to burden all of you guys, dang I probably shouldn't even post this, you are all going to hate me, but I probably deserve it too but sometimes I need to get stuff off my chest.  I am not in a good frame of mind right now.

There is a place roughly an hour's drive from here.

Well, it's a place, but really it's no place in particular.

A tiny spot on the map says "Oreana."  

Maybe Oreana was once an actual town, or maybe it never was much more than it is today.

Nonetheless it is "Town" only in the sense that it is what passes for civilization in a sea of empty desert and scrub land.

Two dirt roads cross here, and maybe six or seven farm-houses, most of which are just double-wide manufactured homes.  Up a little ways is another dirt road with a couple more large acreage estates.  Down a ways, maybe a quarter mile at the top of a low rise, is an old school house which serves as a community hall, and just beyond that, an ancient Catholic church, looking like something you might see in a Clint Eastwood movie. And that is it.  There are no businesses, post office, Starbucks, nail salons, or anything else of note.

Old farm trucks, mongrel dogs, and ancient machinery dot the yards of the few residents who call this place home.

Beyond the edge of town, are a few scattered ranches, and beyond that, nothing.

It's the jumping off point to nowhere. 

Nowhere, nothing but empty desert, the wind whipping through the sage.

Although, perhaps not entirely empty. The nearby Owyhee mountains rise in the background.  There are deep canyons, and rock walls like fortresses on the heights, and on the sides of the canyons.  In some places the rocks make twisted formations, like from a dream.  Those "Fat Lizards" scurry around the rocks, and there are coyotes howling in the distance, hawks and birds of prey soaring above. 

In the Spring, wildflowers bloom in vivid psychedelic color.  White yarrow, red paintbrush flower, yellow Balsamroot, and tiny purple flowers of all description.

Once in a while, your boot will kick up a twig from a sagebrush plant and you will hear a "Chink," and you reach down and pick it up, only to realize the twig has been mineralized all the way through, from being sitting in the desert for so long.  And on one windswept plateau, you can reach down and pick up black pebbles that are made entirely of glass.  Perhaps nothing is as it seems out here, in the back lands.

But mostly, there is a certain peace, a primitive permanence to this landscape.  It is the ultimate escape to nowhere, to be one with nature, with the desert and yourself and your thoughts. 

Perhaps that's why, once in a while, I like to come here.

I never know how edgy I can go with my blog posts without grossing people out; so if I ever do so, I apologize.  Not everyone's kink is for everyone I guess. 

So with that, I'll write about something as vanilla as possible this time, or rather, as chocolaty as possible this time. Because everyone loves chocolate, right? 

I noticed that they are making yet another Willy Wonka movie. I've seen ads for it on TV.  The question is, do they really need to make yet another Willy Wonka movie?  What will another movie do with the character, or with the story, that Johnny Depp and Gene Wilder haven't already done?  Some guy named Timothee Chalamet is playing the title character this time, and I guess this one goes more into the character's back story than the first two. Chalamet has a pretty decent resume, so I'm sure he'll do a fine job. 

I've seen the other two Wonka films more than once, and to be honest, I was always partial to Johnny Depp's version of the character.  I may be in the minority there though.  I just thought he brought the right amount of dark, edgy, and slightly creepy aspect to the character while still keeping the film whimsical and fun.  I think he absolutely nailed it.  And I loved the supporting cast and the way they interacted with him- especially the TV kid, who always seemed so cynical, and the snooty rich girl and her father.  Although Gene Wilder's Wonka was almost as intriguing, and that film had a more, shall we say, psychedelic take on the story.  I just think Depp's slightly darker, more mischievous and slightly "off" version of the character worked better.  

So I may go see this one, I may not, in all likelihood I'll probably wait till its available at Netflix or on TV.  But I will probably end up watching it at some point.  It still beats making endless varieties of the latest super-hero Marvel comic book character films which are all pretty much over-done, interchangable and ultimately, forgettable these days. It would be a good first date movie, anyway.  Come to think of it, the first time I saw the Depp "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" movie, it was also a first date.  She was kind of a Violet Beuregard type.  So needless to say the relationship didn't last much beyond date number 3.  So anyway, thanks for reading.

Come inside my inner space.  Welcome to the castle!  Join me in the lighted upper floors, the patio with it's nice view of the forest and lake beyond.  The kitchen, living room with it's huge TV and awesome sound system, where guests dine and frolic.  Want a beer?  Or would you prefer a glass of wine?  Or whiskey and coke on ice?  Hang out, watch some football, or your favorite action film.  Or, if you prefer, get cozy, sit by the fire, put on a romantic film, just us two.  And if you prefer, when you are in the mood, we can retire to the upstairs. 

But if you are up for it, and I feel like we click in a certain way, then walk down the hall to the restroom, towards the back.   There are a series of hallways, corridors tunnelling into the mountain side at the back of the keep. Nothing special, just a couple small art galleries, pantries, a spare bedroom, and the laundry room next to the restroom.  To the left of the restroom door is a flight of stairs.  Then, through the hall past the billiard room, lower level bar, and gothic dance hall, is another flight of stairs.  The vibe down here is edgier, more gothic, with that edgy underground nightclub feel.  Walk down the tiled hall at the back by another set of restrooms.  At the end of the hall is another stairwell.  Climb down this with me if you dare. 

At the bottom, are more hallways and corridors.  All cleanly swept, well lit, with marble walls and tiled floors.  It is not like your stereotypical medieval dungeon at all; it is immaculate and spotless.  But a feeling of danger mixed with delicious erotic delight seems to fill your mind, as you explore these halls.  Your feet echo along the black and white tiles as you wander the corridors.  I never bring people here.  It's the part of the castle I keep private and guarded.  I don't even come down here much myself, though it is not haunted or anything like that. At least, not in the paranormal sense. Rather, it is haunted by my own darker buried feelings.

We pass several closed doors. Closets and store-rooms perhaps?  Maybe there are skeletons in the closets, but mostly it's just anxiety, old memories and regrets.  Turn left, then another short hallway leads to a sign marked "Restroom."  You turn to say something to me, but suddenly you don't see me walking beside you anymore.  But you realize, you actually do have to use the restroom.  "He probably had to take a phone call upstairs or something.  Maybe I'll just stop here for a sec, then head back upstairs and join him for another drink," you say to yourself.

You open the door to the bathroom, and there I am...lying chained to the floor, naked. Legs and arms splayed, wrists and feet shackled to rings in the floor.  You can't see my face, because my head is sealed inside a box.  Atop the box is a toilet seat.  Someone has written the words "Bathroom Bitch" on my chest in red lipstick.  Paddles, riding crops, floggers, and other instruments of erotic torture line the walls. As I hear the door open and the click of your leather boots on the tile floor, I am unable to hide my arousal.

But you close the door and flee in disgust, back down the hall, back up the stairs, through the dance hall and bar, and back up to the ground floor, where there is light and sanity.

And I think to myself, why oh why do I ever bring people down here?

Thanks for reading.

Somewhere, perhaps in another dimension, there is a place.  

Undimmed by threats of war, uncertainty, fear, or oppression. 

Perhaps, an Undying Lands beyond the sundering seas of Middle Earth.

Where the summer sun shines warmly and the seasons turn to gentle rains, and where the winters never bring cold loneliness or misery.

Where beauty never fades but yet always re-blooms.

It is Thanksgiving season and I am thankful for the simple things I have.  The freedoms which, thus far, have not yet been stolen from me.  The fact that I am not facing a brutal and murderous war in my homeland.  The fact that I still have my health.

But yet insecure and fearful, knowing how easily these things can be taken from me.

I am thankful for all the beauty and simple joys that I still have.

But with all the darkness, fear, and oppression in this world, sometimes I wish there was a place to escape to. Like the Elves of Middle Earth, or a far sunlit never-never land. Because sometimes it seems like the darkness in this world is only growing stronger, and it is all I can do to shine a light into it, and push back.  I meet some religious people, but they offer no solace or even hope when all it can offer is, "Well, the world is ending anyway, it's the End Times, so screw you and your false hope."  And then they wonder why people turn away from God.

But I won't turn away from the Light, from joy, love, and all things harmonious and beautiful, and the hope that somewhere, even if it's just in my mind, there is such a place where these things never fade, and cannot be taken away by the cruelties of this world and the heartless inhabitants thereof.

Adults never outgrow their need for a perfect fairyland, do they.

Thanks for reading. 

When someone asks "What is your least favorite month of the year?" For me November, unequivocally, is it.

It's when you set the clocks back to daylight savings time.  No more long evenings with walks or bike rides after work; it's dark when you get home from work, and by the end of the month, it will be dark when you leave for work, too.

No more weekend getaways for outdoor adventures, because it's rainy, cold and snowy in the hills and mountains.

But yet, it's too early for snowboarding (or skiing, if that is your sport.) And too early for Christmas.

The barbecues, outdoor gatherings, and parties- that pretty much all winds down.  The cold has a certain bite to it that it didn't have just a few weeks ago, and we were lucky here to actually have a nice sort of "Indian Summer" in mid-October of this year.  Everyone just hunkers down.

Halloween is over, and the leaves have turned.  Sometimes, there is a certain serene beauty around sunset, when the fallen leaves cover the ground and the orange and pink sky shines through the trees that still bear leaves, or even afterwards, when they are mostly bare branches.  This is actually kind of nice.  

With no more outdoor fun, you turn inward, focusing on artistic projects  (like writing blogs) or other hobbies.  This is nice, too.

Halloween was one of my favorite holidays as a kid (if you could call it a "holiday" as you typically still had to go to school, or work.)  Going out with your childhood buddies and scoring candy was fun, as was role-playing your dress-up character for the day.  I remember dressing up as Ozzy, my favorite rock star, as a kid one year.  Before that, I was King Tut, and I was even Darth Vader once.  Everyone in our neighborhood got into it- there'd be tons of kids out and about, and it was rare that you'd find a house that didn't hand out candy.

As an adult, I still dress up for Halloween and go into work once in a while, though sadly I didn't this year.  Our bosses don't mind. I've been Paul Stanley, (another childhood rock n' roll hero)  a cleaning guy, a gnome, and a face-painted Black Metal musician (rock n' roll has come a long way since KISS!)

Sadly, this year, I didn't get one single trick or treater. I had the carved pumpkins out and lit, lights on, bags of candy at the ready...but it seems that the kids in our neighborhood either attended a nearby "Trunk or treat" at a neighborhood religious establishment, or went to one of the rich-people neighborhoods which have a city-wide reputation for doing it up at Halloween.  Disappointing, but one silver lining...SOMEONE has to eat all those reeses peanut butter cups that I bought. My co-workers loved them.

So, Halloween's over, November's here, and it's time to put the mountain bike in storage, mount the studded tires, and get the snowboard waxed and ready to go for when the snow inevitably starts to fall.  And rake leaves- my least favorite yard work chore, ugh!  TIP FOR DOM/MES:  You want to punish your submissives/slaves?  Make them rake leaves. Even diehard masochists will hate it.  Has to be done though. Last year I got over 30 bag fulls.

And on that note, that brings me to one final "make the best of my least favorite month" point:

Locktober is over.

I hope that all of you who, perhaps involuntarily, participated over the last month got to enjoy the most mind-blowing, intense, and satisfying release ever.  Hope you earned it!

That's all for now.

Is it obscured by clouds?

Or is the day just dark?

But no, the sun is out.

Barely a cloud in the sky.

Is it too quiet?

The sun still shines overhead but dim and feeble in a cloudless sky.

The birds have stopped chirping.

A dog barks, eerie in the dark morning shadows, sounding almost distressed.

A creepy feeling descends. Strange half moon shadows appear.

Should it really be this dark at 10:30 AM on a cloudless day?  

Perhaps the portals between worlds have grown thin.  What is coming through?

Dark dread descends.  The feeble light grows a ghostly pale.

Those crescent quarter moon shadows, they are everywhere.

Familiar sights grow strange.

Nothing looks right.

Nothing feels right.

The world grows dark.  Ominous, still.

Eventually, the light returns and the creepy crescent shadows dissipate among warm life giving sunshine.

The sun regains it's strength.

And still I prayed after the darkness lifted from here, that it would soon lift in other parts of the world that are afflicted with true unspeakable horrors.