November 5th, 2001:

Thanks to the amazing photographic skills of rockbugg I proudly present to you a picture of me on Halloween:

Charlie Brown in his 30′s.
“Ya wanna see Charlie’s Willy?”

The other day my stalker called. I had no clue who it was, so I answered the phone. She laughed. She told me I wasn’t allowed to answer the phone when she called. We then proceeded to have a conversation that lasted close to an hour. I like my stalker.

My INBOX has gone down from 101 unfiled/unreplied/unread messages to 43. I’m hoping to get this cleared out today. This means that all of the people who have sent me email and have been waiting patiently for a reply… you should be getting one shortly.

Everyone is crazy, in some little way or another. What is important is that you find that one person that you enjoy being with, whose craziness compliments yours. And if and when you find her, grab her, hold on, and don’t listen to anything anyone else has to tell you.

Sometimes people can be VERY mistaken when the analyze the worth of of a particular person. They can look at a relationship and boldly state, “she does everything for him, and he doesn’t even appreciate it”. Maybe the truth is much different than what you see at first glance. Maybe the truth of the matter is, he is bitter, upset and unhappy because she hasn’t kissed him passionately since they fed each other cake at the wedding reception. Of course, maybe he is an unappreciative, abusive, bastard who does nothing but use her. The point is, you can’t know… you can only make a good guess and hope for the best.

I was the odd-man-out this weekend. Everyone around me was one half of a couple. I don’t mean this as a sympathy plea, I am merely stating the facts. You can learn so much about yourself, by analyzing the relationships of others. I watched them hug, and fight, and talk, and hold, and kiss. I watched them get frustrated with one another, and I watched them take care of each other. I watched how they interacted with other people, and how they interacted with me when we were alone. I learned.

The fair itself was a lot of fun. I had wanted to buy a few things that I didn’t get a chance to, and I didn’t get nearly as many pictures as I had wanted to, but I still had a good time. We saw some funny shows, some interesting costumes, and I had a good time with people who are very dear to me.

Camping was also a lot of fun. This particular trip marked the first time I ever slept alone in a tent. I guess I didn’t mind so much, but I secretly kept hoping a cute Renny would wander into our camp, hold a 3 hour conversation with me, and then, not knowing how to find her way back, decide to stay in my tent for the night. Of course that never happened.

The drum circle was good when it was good, and was really horrible when it wasn’t. It started out decent enough. I had to position myself away from the loud “pa-ta drummers” in order to ensure I would be able to hold the beat. In the past, I would have been able to stand them, and possibly even correct them a little, but I was sorely out of practice and didn’t want to risk it.

I played softly and slowly at first… watching the rhythm unfold into the dancers and they slowly stripped off their shirts and inhibitions. Various bottles of alcohol were held to my lips by dancers, drummers, and spectators. I drank from some of them.

The topless girls were dancing wildly and passionately, drunk off of liquor and their own sensuality. I watched, in between beats, as a short-haired, blonde girl with nice tits and a pot belly spun fire topless. I watched the way she moved, the fire racing past her naked, sweating body, her curves wrapping themselves around the chains attached to her arms, her body shaking to the beat that degraded in inverse proportion to the intoxicating effects of her dance. She deserved a better drum circle. Those boys were amateurs, and couldn’t concentrate in the front lines of so much energy. It took all I could to hold on, which made it that much better, and, though I have had a two year break, I’ve had a lot of experience.

I had hoped the night would pan out in such a way that I would get a chance to talk to her. At one point during the circle, however, she came up behind me, wrapping her arms around my sides in order to play my drum. It was then that I realized she was very drunk and that a conversation with her this evening would not be possible. I ran into her the next morning, but opted not to say anything.

During the circle, I lost myself for about five minutes. I watched the constantly moving limbs and bodies of the dancers. My hands and arms continued to move and slam and dance with the drum, my hips continued to sway from side to side, my chest continued to rise and fall… but I was not consciously controlling any of it. As I said above, it didn’t last long, and came at a point in the circle where the drumming was actually consistent for about fifteen minutes. I needed it though. It helped me to clear my mind, and straighten a few things out. Hopefully it was long enough to help me hold it.

After this weekend, I really miss Torin and Sydney. I miss all the fun we had, and all of the talks we shared. I wonder where each of them are now. I know the chances of me running into them ever are slim. Very slim. But it can happen. I ran into Sydney leading a circle in Richardson about two years ago. It could happen again.

I remember the first beat I ever played that absorbed me. Sydney had taught it to me earlier that day, and then they started it up in circle. I remember holding each sound as close to my body as I could. I played harder, and faster, and soon my hands moved themselves and I went away. You see everything so objectively when you are able to look at yourself from the outside. Sydney said I led the circle for about 20 minutes. Torin said he wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to keep all the drummers in line, but that I had pushed myself so far above the circle that the only way he would have been able to stop me from holding it would be to break the beat, and stop me from drumming, and he didn’t want to do that. In the end, however, he told me that I held it well, and that he was very proud of me. I still remember that beat. I will never play it like I played it that day, but I will also never forget it.