Old Letters

I tend to keep old letters that have been written to me. I think sometimes I'm perhaps too wrapped up in my past, but I like to remember what others had to say to me and how those words have changed in meaning over the years. There's a particularly relevant letter I'll touch briefly on but I suppose some background on why it means more at the present.

Last night before I went to sleep I picked up the copy of Meisner's Acting Book I'm borrowing. I'm not much for acting books but it is formatted much like Plato's dialogues: it's essentially a pseudo narrative of his class room. Anyway, Meisner talks of those who have it, those who don't and it begins to arise this swarm of doubts about myself in my head about whether I could cut the mustard as an actor. I know I have a work ethic for anything I tend to care about but could I achieve that level of 'honesty' that is essentially the holy grail.

For a moment I doubted myself, but then I realized that its entirely achievable if I care so much. If the idea of not being an actor, or not being good enough to do this upsets me as much as it did last night, then it means this theatre thing is probably bound in my blood, burned out or not. As such, it gave me some resolve that my future isn't unfounded. I then went in to a slumber.

Anyway, a letter. At the end of my first acting class (JBA Acting), we had to write one other person in the class a letter. By proxy, you get one too. Crystal, my beautiful blonde preceptor, wrote mine. Just re-reading this gave me some sense of renewed hope. I never took it as a pep-talk when I first got it at age 15. Now that I look back on it, she reflects upon the fact that "life hasn't been easy for you thus far" (which it hadn't, though I didn't fully realize that until recently). She further predicts that I could accomplish more then I ever dreamed. Accomplish more then you've dreamed. That is sort of an odd thought. To accomplish more then you ever dreamed. I haven't the foggiest idea what that would be. I guess because I couldn't dream it. I mean I dream of making a decent living, doing stage work, maybe stuff on the radio. I dream of owning a house. I also occasionally dream of teaching or touring. I dream of kids who my nephew and niece can play and have amusing Christmas Adventures with.

Regardless, it put me in good spirits and I suppose that's why I keep old letters. I'm going to take a shower or go run or something. Maybe dig out the french press.


Later.

Well...Christmas songs by The Killers kind of put me in a good mood.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IpXXpufFrP8



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-1HuJJOhFvo

French Press/Friends/Festivus

Probably since the separation of my parents I've been slowly becoming a very quiet Scrooge. I won't go out of my way to ruin Christmas for anyone else, but I'll hardly enjoy it myself. I know the season means too much to too many people to be that kind of dick, no matter sometimes I just want to yell and scream about it. Maybe it has been too long It's A Wonderful Life? Regardless, I did celebrate Christmas early yesterday. All in all I think it went well. It was the first time that my entire close clan was having a dinner together over a holiday as well as including Christine, my dad's wonderful girlfriend. It didn't turn out as awkward as planned.

The gifts were good. I found an 8 pack of the "Little Miss" books (ala Little Miss Sunshine, Little Miss Curious, etc.) for my niece and the first ten issues of the 1980s G.I Joe comic book in 1 volume for my nephew. I think they dug the gifts. I know they dug what Santa brought them. Simon received a fancy new bicycle (his first), and Cecelia got a badass Cabbage Patch doll. I'm not sure they appreciated the note from Santa (that I served as medium for) but no matter. I have to remind myself today and tomorrow aren't about me. If they're about anyone, they're about my niece and nephew.

Speaking of loot: I am a lucky man. Mom fetched me a snazzy French press. I'm having some right now. Lordy it's tasty. Dad got me a kettlebell and some money so I can pay some bills, which are much needed. Probably my favorite gift thus far aside stuff from last night was a hand knitted hat from my friend Anne. It's warm, it's wool, and it's wonderful.

My friend Dieter has been passing in and out of town (for those reading, this is not John Dieter). I've been trying to enjoy his company but the man is changed. Dieter is one of my oldest friends. The man's Loki re-incarnate, a trickster, a brilliant mind with a devious, devious sense of humor. Anyone who thinks they corrupted me to the joys of dirty humor doesn't know that Dieter sent me down that path back when I was 10. But Dieter has had some really tough times as of recent: my marine friend identifies his symptoms as PDST. It is bizarre to see him take himself so seriously, to watch him look so intensely into space. It scares me. I feel like his soul has been robbed of him. James(Marine), Dieter and I were a triumvirate. James brought the extreme discipline and logic, Dieter brought the creativity and wit and I was the middle balance and just being in the prescence of both was so bizarre because James has only become a better human being with age.

It just scares me. It scares me to watch so many people fall down around me and knowing I really cannot help any of them.

I'm trying very hard to be hopeful about 2010. I'm trying with all my might.

Merry Christmas to you and yours. I'll put something more optimistic up later.

KKKKK

I just finished jogging 5 miles in the hellish wineter. I was bundled with about three layers, so I was decently warm except my face. now that I'm down to just about one and I'm trying to get some water into my system, I realize how awful/like man I smell. But I kind of like it, even if it smells awful. It's a reminder of how hard I worked. I think we need those reminders sometimes.

Excuse me while I kiss the sky.

Holy shit I logged nearly 1,000 miles of driving in a week.

Why does Adam's Song by Blink 182 make me cry?

Tinman

I dreamt James came home early. He was skinnier, shaggier in hair (an odd combination for a Lance Corporal in the USMC) and apparently Alaina had come home as well. Nobody telling me they were coming home and thus dashing my plans upset me in said dream land. It gets fuzzier after that.

My body feels a little less like the Tinman at the moment. The rust is wearing off in my hips, quads, knees, and upper back finally. It's been almost painful to walk but that's the only way to wear it off, right?

I have this poem in my head. It has no form yet, no arc but I want to retell the story of Nick Chopper (The Tinman from Baum's "Oz" series). The story of a man who kept cutting and cutting until he was nothing more then metal and all he wanted to do was feel. All the while his frozen stature and hardened limbs serve as a reminder of where he was and perhaps we're he'll go, because we can all FEEL rust.

Well, I'm going to hit the gym.

Log 2 from Denver

Drunk!

Log 1 from Denver

I've missed the fine movement of travel. The little things like getting to my gate on time, sitting in tight cramped seats and seeing new landscapes unfold before my eyes always seem to aspire gusto in me.

My nose has cleared up quite a bit; the mountain air and the vitamin c I get where I can is helping. In contrast to getting well this Autumn bear is fantastic.

I reckon we should backtrack. I feel like I should go detail by detail the day but it's all one large beautiful blur. I enjoyed a ride to Kansas City and the airport from my lady. In simplest words this has made me quite happy. It's work, it's damn good work and this relationship is absolutely worth every ounce of work, discussion and time.

The trip is young still: tomorrow Wayne and I are going to head up to Boulder and just enjoy the town and Saturday we'll hopefully hit up Estes. There is much work to be done before I get home and when I get home but all in all I'm quite relaxed. I'm not sure how well I'll sleep but yeah, things are good.

Cheers.

Life in most aspects is tinged with excitement and a general feeling of happiness in my heart. The kind of earnest happiness that makes me nervous and giddy. The kind of happiness that must be earned, and as such my anxiety which I felt I had conquered once again rises to the surface to make fear that I will lose this. That I will screw up as I always do. It's a devil, that anxiety. It won't win.

But I'm smarter than I once was, I'm stronger. I'm better as a whole and as someone who interacts in the world.

In other areas of my life (not involving pretty, earthy, blondes) I feel like the ground is shaking beneath me and I cannot get a grip on ledge or descending plate, that perhaps Max is going to be swallowed up by the earthquake and I will fall forever and ever and ever. Just a long few months perhaps.

I'm still smiling though.

Cheers.

The Impossible Dream

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XiBX8MkFkd4&feature=channel_page

Split

Half of me just ignited the car
while I'm stuck
choreographing the laces of boots.

Eggs, Toast and Coffee

I'm a bit groggy. I think I got a bit of the congested bug that Gavin has. Not quite incapacitating; not in the least. However, it's there. It made getting up a chore.

Regardless, despite sleeping in two additional hours I found the moxxy to make my coffee, cook scrambled eggs, toast and shave (my neck at least).

I was working this weekend on trying to make a playlist for my friend Tara. She gave me two cds full of goodness when I left Louisville and I sort of wanted to repay the favor: show where my tastes align and differ with hers.

I forgot how hard making a playlist is. I don't just mean a hodge podge of what I like but compiling a list in a special order that is both an honest representation of the music I love and also has stuff that she'd enjoy.

Needless to say, I proceeded to igift it to her and the playlist was chopped in half due to a mix of Beatles songs not being carried on Itunes and the variety of bootleg songs I have: (Eric Clapton's Danny Boy, The Killers "When You Were Young" from a session at Abbey Road in which it is entirely acoustic, etc). Regardless, she says she enjoyed it, though I've heard no more.

I really like the Format. I forgot about them. Silly me.

I need a chance to run rampant and hit the roads to St. Louis. Soon. Very, Very, Very Soon. Notice the capitals? That's how important it is.

So to the (two?) people who read this: what's your favorite trip meal?

Mark yo' Calendar

Max goes to Denver II: Mountain Monkey Time

Coming Oct 15...

The subtle stuff

It goes a long way. I don't know why but small things like that affect me: as of late that would include growing my side burns back, not fixing up my hair in the morning (but not looking like a slouch), trying to shave more, trying to get even more of a jump on my day.

Small steps, i reckon? One more beatles song and then I'll go to class.

Something or With a Little Help From My Friends

Everyone once in a while I find myself re-discovering The Beatles.

It's never like I forgot them, au contraire. It's more like God hands me three cds (Beatles 1, and both volumes of The Blue Album/Box) and says, "Hey. I thought you might need these. Chin up."

My love of The Beatles go back to 3rd or 4th grade. My best friend through most of public school, Dieter, grew up on them. So he was always enthusiastic about sharing his love of the music he and his mother listened to: which was primarily the Beatles. I remember I started with an alternating choice of Rubber Soul and Revolver. I remember how much I LOVED Yellow Submarine and how the movie confused the hell out of me but I dug it.

I once bought my mom the album "Hard Day's Night" so I could listen to it. It was a selfish little Christmas gift but it's the beatles.

So yeah, thank you John, Paul, Ringo and George(my new favorite).

A Prayer Before Starting A Journey

While I'm not exactly "Christian" I've found a new respect and appreciation for prayer as of late. Since this is a blog about travel, and such things need not be simply miles upon the earth, I offer this:

My holy Angel Guardian, ask the Lord to bless the journey which I undertake, that it may profit the health of my soul and body; that I may reach its end, and that, returning safe and sound, I may find my family in good health. Do thou guard, guide and preserve us. Amen.

Call it a reboot, restart, whatever. I just wanted to start clean.

This will hopefully be devoted to primarily sharing travel schtuff.