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05/01/98 - Hory Clap! It's May. My Civil War calendar's theme is prisoners of war. There's a tiny picture of Custer and captured Confederate he'd known from West Point. How surreal that seems to me. The whole Civil War seems very surreal. I'm reading a history of the Confederacy. Last night I read an account of a slave rebellion in a south east VA county. A man named Will clove people with an ax. I expected to read about poor working conditions or at least something like extreme brutal treatment but the servitude wasn't enforced by a nasty foreman. I was surprised by the conditions described. Slaves lived and worked with their owners in a manner that sounded pleasant... of course I wasn't there and I'm a white man so what grounds do I have to say that? I'm learning that mid 19th century social issues were as complex as late 20th century social issues. I'm also learning that mid 19th century social issues still impact today. Why else would I have such a hard time confronting slavery as a complex issue? Why else would I spend so much time choosing words to paint this picture when I write about a flat tire without pause? The weird thought that's entered my head is that, in an effort to righfully condemn the institution of slavery, slavery has been painted as a simple issue of wrongness lacking any complexity... Is this untrue? When I suddenly see complexity I fear the implications of exploring a topic so highly politically incorrect. Surreal is a good word.
05/04/98 - I learned a new song yesterday. "18 tons of greasy grimy gopher. (ok, so I forgot the adjectives here) parakeets and mutilated monkeys feet. All these things are very, very good to eat. Add a can of worms." Kara taught me. I tried to make harmony but she wouldn't sing the lead saying she can't sing something differently than I. I'll teach her. Harmony is great. I like singing with Kara. I like doing everything with her. Is this why we get along so well or do we function so well together for a bigger reason? It's nice to meet someone with whom there is only constructive interference. I never thought it was possible. I understand silly songs. I can belch as loudly as I like... but I don't... at least not all the time. Did I tell you she makes incredible chocolate chip scones? I wish I'd kept a detailed diary of everything that's happened to me since we met... 5 weeks and 2 days ago. I have a hard time believing that's the length of time we've know each other... it feels longer in the best possible way and I can't get enough. Wow, I just realized my favorite new Dave Matthew's Band song just played without me even noticing it. See? That's how I am now.
05/05/98 - It's Mexican Independence Day or Sink Hole Due Eye Hole or something like that. I don't sprikinzee Spanish very well so I translate as best I can. In response to what some people feel was an unnecessarily sweet piece of prose yesterday I promise to be senseless and cruel today (thus my slaughter of two foreign languages so far). What you guys don't realize is I cruelly set you aside while I changed CDs. It took me extra long because the CD had some multimedia crap on it and kept skiiping 5 tracks into the future instead of playing the first song. Oh, and in the cruel vein again the forgotten (by me) words for yesterdays song are "Chopped up parakeets"; That's doubtlessly the result of mas cruelness. Mas Cervesa. As far as I know that's Spanish for More Beer. I've had no beer this morning. I have had no coffee. I have had 2 chocolate chips scone, 20oz of water and 18 tons of greasy grimey gopher guts. Off to see the wizard! Adios, Auf Wiedersehen, Bye-Bye.
05/06/98 - Ok, so yesterday wasn't Mexican Independence Day... it was simply Sink Hole the Eye Hole. I'm impressed you guys knew I was wrong about the independence part but I'm still dissapointed no one knew May 5th's significance. May 6th is my friend Sam's birthday... he's old; that's significant. He's older than Ken, Help Wanted's drummer. Ken doesn't catch Sam until July. When Ken's daughter turns Ken's current age Ken will be 70. Ken's daughter is a damn cute girl; want to see? *Alex* So the picture's a touch dark. Ken and I had breakfast this morning. We should have toasted Sam's birthday but Ken doesn't know Sam and who toasts with coffee mugs, anyway? My mug is plastic so the toast wouldn't have sounded cool, either. Actually, it's an Atlanta Braves mug which reminds me of another friend who wrote an Atlanta Braves twist to a popular Christmas tune... "'Tis the season to play baseball.....RyanJavyChip-perKeithandWalt." Pretty cool, eh? Mary B., the authoress, does know Sam and probably will participate in a toast to his birthday as she will be part of the group lunching with Sam today. My Dad called; he's no idea why Mexicans celebrate May 5th, either... he's usually a smart man.
05/07/98 - I just read an article about explosions in space. Ratios were used to put stuff in perspective. This explosion (detected on Dec 14 but actually occuring 12 billion years ago... distance and all begin involved), in 2 seconds, released more energy than our sun ever will. By comparison, the Earth's entire nuclear arsenal if dentonated at once (we're talking all weapons EVER MADE) would equal 1/100,000 of a second of sun energy. This space explosion staggers the mind... blows the mind. The explosion's brightness equalled that of the Universe's remainder. "Huge" is too small to describe this happenstance. Ok, you could get all this information on the CNN page, but do you care? I do. I got emotional reading about this. Perhaps this is a sign. Why do I ignore such obvious signs? Because pursuing the stars is as difficult as pursuing the stars... but it's not impossible and I'm a strong person. I can do it. I can do it. Damn it, Lee! Listen to the Nike ads, right? Right! How many people get signals this strong? How many people see them? We'll I'm being paid to do other crap so I'd better do the stuff for which I'm responsible. *BOOM*
05/08/98 - Ok, I have a new and very good idea. People with long hair should not talk on the phone. They hide the phone in their hair so the rest of us can't tell they're holding a conversation... we, not knowing, interupt them which is rude. It's common courtesy that they refrain from phone use until their hair is cut above the ear. Common sense. That's all I want used in this world. Barbra Streisand said Charlton Heston's gun totting ways are wrong because they violate common sense. I think, by the same logic, she should cut off her damn hair or get off the phone and stay off the phone. And what is this little dowhopper that came with my computer. There's nothing common about it's appearence so I can't make sense of it. It's a braket of some sort... what it holds is a mystery to me. Ok, back to the phone subject... flashing lights connected to the phones of long haired people... that's what we need. When a long haired person picks up a phone the lights start flashing telling the rest of us not to interupt the long haired person who's actually on the phone even though you can't tell because they're just listening (not talking) and the receiver is cruelly hidden from view by their long hair. You know, it's a darned good thing common sense doesn't always rule... how often do you think all the stupid people on your drive to work should be shot? Do you think they don't have those thoughts about you?
05/11/98 - I passed some road workers right as I reached the University this morning. Three men in work clothes and hard hats crouched in front of an orange pickup... using a laptop computer... huh? What were they doing? They didn't look confused... not that they should. They were doing their job as professionals do; it's just I didn't expect road guys to use computers at work... like road guys wouldn't expect me to use concrete at work (which I don't). Of course road guys with computers is scary to me, the computer guy, because it means I'm not as valuable as I used to be. Most road guys probably thought computers were scary, complicated nerd tools but then they figured out anyone can do computer stuff and suddenly they look down their noses at wimpy computer guys that know how to type and mouse but can't make concrete into pretty and useful shapes. Pretty soon they start making computers from concrete and us nerdy guys don't have the strength to use them so we have to take new jobs that require real skills and work and our peaceful lives are smashed along with the illusion that we were something special... Did I mention I liked astro-physics? Perhaps this is a good time to explore space, like a real nerd, before my cover is blown.
05/12/98 - Down comes the rain... again. "Rain" and "again" don't rhyme but "rain" and "gain" do. Some friends threatened at one point to compile a book called "No DuH: Brilliant quotes from Lee Parker"; I believe they were on volume two when I graduated from college. But here I am, some 6 years later... ok, my stomach just dropped. I've been out of college for 6 years! 6 years! 6 years! I need to send an email to some of my old professors. It feels like I just saw them and it's been 6 years. I suppose my sudden fixation on this interval may make my tome. Ok, the point I was going to make is I really haven't changed. No change... I dump my change either on my dresser or in a tiny box in a desk drawer. I sort through it seeking wheat pennies or bicentennial quarters of buffalo nickels. Hey, did you know a cenobite is a member of a religious order dwelling in a monestary or convent? I didn't but do now. My favorite Live (the band) song is on my CD player now. I'll enjoy it. You have a good day. Try to stay dry... another rhyme.
05/13/98 - 13 Days without sun Kara tells me the weatherman said. Uh, I hadn't noticed... neither had she. And I'll quickly change the subject. Band practiced last night. I got a phat sound from my wood colored guitar by cranking the amp's drive but playing at a very low volume. We play a 2 night stand at Mr Smith's in Georgetown this weekend. Saturday Andy, Sarah (Andy's squeeze), Kara and I have to drive back to R, VA from DC to attend the wedding on one Carter Dixon. I've known Carter since he was 5ish. He was raised next door to me and is the tyke brother of Chris Dixon, a very, very, very good friend. I call Carter a tyke but he's 6'4" which makes him much taller than I. Ok, anyway, 4 of us drive down from DC, prepare for and witness what I'm sure will be a beautiful wedding, eat and mingle at the reception then truck back to DC for another rockin' night of Help Wanted music including the brand, spankin' new Scott penned tune entitled "She" on which the rhythme guitar player will lay down a Phat sound. Whew! I don't think I could say that sentence without pausing for a breath. Ok, I will get little sleep this weekend but my life sometimes requires I forego necessities for a short time in exchange for unique and fun experiences. I like it... my life, that is.
05/14/98 - Thursday morning finds me, as most recent mornings have, eating chocolate chip scones and drinking hazelnut coffee. Perhaps my favorite breakfast... I'd choose different surroundings. Maybe a cabin in the woods with a wood stove on which the coffee was cooked... no computers and a battery powered radio tuned to NPR. Of course this experience wouldn't be complete if I couldn't share it with Kara. We could sit on wooden benches with our feet resting on one of those tables made from a log's cross section. This whole scene unfolds on the cabin's covered porch. The sunlight pouring through the tree tops and the sound and smell of dew dripping on last fall's leaf carpet complete the setting. But I'm sitting at my faux walnut desk in my fluorescently lit box office with barely audible music barely containing my sanity and masking the fact that I have to make a living and since I've chosen this job I'm constrained to place my time and talents under foreign control... ug, that sounds awful. It's really not that bad. The people sharing my fate are kind and good and even fun most of the time. And if I am caged this cage must be top of the line. The coffee and the scones certainly rock, too.
05/15/98 - I live in an old elementary school. There's a pool in the school's court yard. In the pool live two vicous cartoon sharks. One's a hammerhead and the other is a great white. My friends can walk on water. But the sharks aren't after my friends... they're after me. Luckily I carry a gun. The gun isn't really all that useful against sharks but it does slow them down which comes in real handy when they leave the pool to chase me through the school's halls. The polished rock and cement floors carry a wet shark quickly through the halls but the sharks are pretty stupid and can't turn well so I can duck in a classroom, wait for the shark to pass then run in the other direction to loose them. When my friends go walking on water I'm afraid for them. I go to the pool's edge or to the balcony overlooking the pool and try to get them to come back to safety but they seem oblivious to the danger below their feet. Then the sharks see me. They swim at high speeds and leap from the water. By the time they're airborn I'm running. They smash down on the floor and the ground trembles. I run for the school with the sharks right behind me. I run and shoot but I can't seem to move as quickly as I know I can. The sharks are close to me as I round a turn near the art room. I duck inside but leave the door open hoping they won't think I'd do such a stupid thing and search for me elsewhere. I hear them outside the room... moving very, very slowly. I'm afraid.
05/18/98 - Ok, I hear chocolate kills dogs. Why? If it's that bad for one living creature why is it so good for humans? Scary. And what's with this note I left myself? I have 3 tasks written on a Post-It note but I out crypticed myself... with a nice illustration of a guy throwing up... but then his teeth are clinched so maybe he's only about to yak. Ok, I figured out note number one which busted the dyke and now I remember what all three tasks are. I have to find a more interesting subject. I brunched yesterday with some of Kara's friends: Mike and Irina and their witty daughters Masha and Dina. Mike and Irina are originally from Lithuania which looks about like Ohio but at the same latitude as Juneau Alaska. Mike and Irina were embarrassingly sharp regarding US geography... they blamed this on raising their children which seems be their first priority thus Mike and Irina are held in high regard by me. I must to them seem the typical narrow minded American worried more about the price of gasoline and the freshness of my Budweiser than Pakistan and India's nuclear feud. My favorite self commited social faux pas was telling them how impressed I was that Masha spoke Russian so fluently... she was initially taught Russian and learned English second. Oh, well. I can point to Lithuania on an unlabeled map today so I feel somewhat more enlightened but I still need a wider world view.
05/19/98 - This is the time of Sprockets in which we dance. You can't see me but I'm dancing. My fingers fly furiously over my keys. The music is pumping in the foreground. The walls shake and then I awake finding myself at work. Work. Such a weenie word. Play. There's a word I like. Kara has a friend Dana with a daughter Clara who knows how to play. Clara waddles around chasing Kara's dog trying to get Emelie (the dog) to play catch. Clara says "Set Go!" and waves her pudgy arm rapidly... I'm not sure when she releases the ball but there is NO energy transfer; The ball drops to the ground and bounces for several inches before Eme darts for it. Clara flinches but giggles; Emelie grabs the ball and speeds back... all 65 pounds of her heads for all 30 pounds of Clara... but all is well. That's play's beauty. 65 and 30 combine to form 95 pounds of fun. Then you can add my 175 pounds and have over a 10th of a ton of fun. A few more folks and a few more dogs and few more balls and, before you know it, there's a full fun ton flying around having a great time. Smiles galore... dancing and singing and darting around after slobbery balls in hot parks but, hey! who cares? Fun is fun and there's no more to the equation. Dance!
05/20/98 - Dance I did. This morning I danced for a whole song but I had to come to work so I stopped before I wanted to stop. I'm extremely highly caffeinnated now so I really feel like moving to music. I'd actually like to create some music. Drums, a beat beckons me. I hear Marvin Gaye as I type; what better beat maker is there? "Whoooooly Hooooly" he sings as the sax syncs to his sylables; Beauty it is as the words and wind harmonize. That was some slinky alliteration, wasn't it? Inner city blues make me wanna holler, too, Marvin. Actually, they make we want to croon like you. What do I know about inner city blues? Squat! That's what. Do you think social differences could be alleviated through understanding? I don't know. I have trouble letting Kara buy me dinner; If I can't let one person give me something I really doubt handouts are honest solutions as they create uneasiness. Have I told you my theory on world peace? I think as long as there are subtantial numbers of people unable to selflessly share (and I'm amongst these numbers) peace is impossible. If, in order to get that security bread loaf (the one you don't need but will ease your mind to have), you'll resort to deception, dishonesty, violence or other selfish means you cannot contribute to a peaceful society. Peace will come through security and world wide selflessness... nothing else will do. Don't visualize peace; teach and lead through example. Be selfless, sharing and understand what people need. This is hard to conceive and even harder to practice. Everyone wants the upper hand. Governments gather informnation and amass weapons. This spirit is contrary to peace BUT necessary in a world without peace or the hope for peace in the near future... And this is the example set by all our world's leaders... but what choice do they have? Lead well and be squashed... depressing, eh? A MAJOR thought change is necessary and this takes time and a begining.
05/21/98 - I'm listening to my band recorded live last saturday night. Kudos to Brian and Scott for getting this music out on the web. Hear it: Go to www.helphead.com; click on the "News" button; then find the link to our Mr Smiths show over the May 15, 16 weekend. As well as music there is text and pictures. But you didn't come here to hear my band you came for my words and my words you'll get. There once was a little seed from a pasture seed collection. The seed was lost metaphysically. "I don't wanna be horse food" said he the seed. "I want a meaningful life in the city. I wanna be urban grass." Little did he know the words he used implied he was the banned substance know as blunt packing cannabis. But these words didn't fit the true nature of little seed. Little seed abided the law and was genetically just pasture grass anyway. So, one day, little seed and a thousand of his closest friends plus some clover were snatched from the seed bag, placed in plastic and carted, along with a coffee can of dirt, cityward. Toward the city they went. Inside the city limits dirt and seed were mixed in an aluminum tray to become the city's first desktop pasture. Little seed smiles knowing his wish came true without his leaves being lit and inhaled by a gang banger or future presidential candidate... but then he is just pasture grass so no illegalities are occuring (author's note: Really and for true).
05/22/98 - Ok, let's discuss the nature confronting concept called the Business Day. One Business Day from now will be tuesday morning... that's 4 actual days. Ok, now let's look at Thanksgiving weekend; One Business Day from the wednesday before Thanksgiving lands you on the monday after Thanksgiving; that's 5 actual days. 5 actual days is one Work Week which is 40 hours which is 8 hours short of 2 actual days. So, by the transitive property, 5 is about 2. That means I'm not really almost 30; I'm barely over 10. I shouldn't be driving. I shouldn't be drinking beer. I shouldn't even have a job (UR better get a good lawyer; I think they've violated some law regarding minors and work). And being barely over 10 my mind's wanderings make me a gifted kid. I'm a genius. How many barely over 10 year olds do you know with a bachelors degree in Physics? Few. And do these 10 year old snots play guitar in promising bands? I doubt it. I should be a guest on the Today show. Katie would love me. We could talk about my accomplishments and why I like Spiderman better than Superman... the juxtaposition of the extraordinary and the normal is what your average American housewife finds appealing at 8am on a tuesday morning... we could arrange for my appearance one business day from now!
05/26/98 - Having spent 3 days away from the office one might expect me to be rested. I'm not. I'm paying a kid 50 cents an hour to hold my eyelids open. I'm paying another 30 cents and hour to poke me every few minutes. Luckily I'm being paid $1 and hour so I'll still have a few bucks by the time the day is over. I've sent the kids out on a coffee break so I can write this journal voucher in peace. Ok, oops I'm confusing pleasure with work. Journal vouchers are that by which money moves from one account to another. My personal journal thing (that which you're currently reading) involves no transfer of funds although one day I'm hoping to support myself by babbling on paper but that day lies in my future... hopefully the near future so if you can help me please feel free to do so... if for no other reason than I might get to sleep later and these two kids may be able to get back to school where they belong. I hope they return from Starbuck Kids soon. My CDs is almost over and I'm thirsty so I need my well paid labor to change the disc and fetch me some water. Perhaps when I am a successful writer making $2 an hour I can get these guys a decent health care package...
05/27/98 - Can guys be wet more easily than women? The women at a croquet party I attended monday say "Yes". As I sit here soaked from walking into the building during a down pour I say... "Ok, maybe they're right." I'm wet. So? I'll dry. I'm not cold. It doesn't look like I pee-ed my pants. No skin off my teeth. I'll see what Cheryl thinks when she arrives. I didn't take my allergy medicine this morning. My nose is running and I have a headache... those there problems justify a complaint... waaaaaa!!!! My sister is back from London. I hope she had fun... perhaps I'll call her this morning. That makes me smile. When asked if guys can stand being wet better than girls Cheryls says "Yeah, your hair doesn't wreck." Good answer I guess. When my hair does wreck I put a ball cap on my head. Kara's brother is getting married. That gets a big Yee Ha! I haven't met him yet but if he's anything like her I'll like him. Sam, when asked the same wetness questions said "That's why men, for a long time, were the only sailors..." Then he back tracked so don't think him as weird as he sounds *Ouch* he just smacked me as he reads over my shoulder. Addendum: Sam's back. "Men like dirt. Men can go days without a bath... that's why men can stand being wet... All men are pigs." That's Sam speaking, not me.
05/28/98 - I am 28 today. Since I was aware of numbers I've waited for this birthday for no other reason than the coincidence... I'm 28 on the 28th. Having admitted it my birthday I feel vain. Who goes around saying "It's my birthday!"? The Beatles: "Da na na na na na You say it's your bithday. Da na na na na na It's my birthday, too! Yeah." The Police: "It's my birthday. Happy Birthday." I will give a prize of some sort to anyone who can tell me what Police song I just quoted. Hint: Regatta DeBlanc. Let's see... what is a suitable prize... I think I'll wait to see who answers before I decide. Ok, Jodie made me Jersey Dirt... mmm, she also provided the recipe... perhaps I shouldn't eat this stuff. Basically Jersey Dirt is a mixture of fat and sugar and, on further thought, I could have easily reached this conclusion without the recipe. But on the good side of things Jodie probably made the best Jersey Dirt EVER!!! I've had 3 servings so far and it's only 9:30a... I've been 28 for an hour now. Come see if I have some Jersey Dirt left... bring a plate.
05/29/98 - Tom Bernal wins yesterday's song prize (whatever that may be... it will be something, though) for his answer of "On Any Other Day". Next subject: Amazed me. Kara, with my friend's aid, executed an amazing surprize party for me. I can't even being to describe the emotional wave crashing my beach. I guess to continue the metaphor Kara would be the moon. She is an extraoridinary person. And my friends... pulling the wool over my eyes. With the hot humid weather we've been having you'd think I'd have noticed wool in my face... I didn't. I arrived home to find a porch load of friends. I saw their cars before I got all the way home but the surprize was complete. At the risk of belittling my childhood experiences yesterday may have been my best birthday yet. 28 on the 28th... well worth the wait.
