There's No Troy at the Yacht Club

I left play practice in Little 5 Points last night about 8:30, heading to my parking place in the back of the shops, and found a guy lying on his back next to my car, his hands up around his face.

This guy looked a rough character, tattoos all over his wiry muscled arms, long stringy hair, beard and mustache, weathered face, street tan. He could have been anywhere from mid 30's to late 40's. Hippie street life does that to you, I think. But something had laid him low.

So I approached him, and asked him, "Hey, why are you lying there?"

"Somebody maced me," he said.

I thought for a second. Mace is marketed as the great equalizer, enabling helpless young women to fend off attackers or anyone who's bothering them. What if this guy had gotten just exactly what he deserved? I reserved judgment, though, and decided to help this guy out of the traffic lane. I'm a big guy, after all, and can take care of myself. I figured if this guy showed any signs of sudden recovery, I could probably put him in his place. Nothing like that happened, though.

"Let's get you up. You're lying in the middle of the parking lot," I said.

"OK."

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Frank."

He tried to get up and it was a sad sight. He was staggering and off balance. I couldn't tell if he was drunk or just in agony, but he did sort of steady up later on. About this time another guy walked up, and asked what happened. "Somebody maced this guy," I said. "Why don't you see if you can find something to give him some relief."

"OK," he said, and he was off like a shot. Before I could get Frank a few more steps, he was back with a large tumbler of water. He introduced himself as Jimbo and said to Frank, "We're going to put this on your face, maybe it will make you feel better," and without further ado poured it down.

I looked at Jimbo. Like Frank, he was dressed in dirty clothes and had the look of the streets about him. Maybe a little too much whiskey or something else.

Frank took this with good grace but his eyes were in sad shape. They were swollen shut tight and he wasn't going to be feeling much better for awhile. "Frank, is there anyone you want me to call?" I asked as we made our way to a spot where he could sit down.

"No."

"Can I go get somebody for you?"

"No."

"Do you work nearby?"

"Yes."

"Let me go get somebody from your work to help you out. Where do you work?"

"Yacht Club." (A nearby watering hole.)

"OK, who should I ask for?"

"Troy."

"Troy at the Yacht Club, got it," I said, ready to go find help.

But as I turned away, Frank's voice, resigned and weary, stopped me. "There's no Troy at the Yacht Club," he said. This was the point at which my heart sort of broke.

"Oh. OK."

We waited in the shade of the tree, commiserating with Frank. Jimbo and I both shared that we had been exposed to CS gas in the service as part of our training, that it was no fun but we got over it, and that it was mainly a matter of time but Frank would surely get better. About that time an older man pushing a trash can ambled past. "Do you know Frank?" I asked.

"Yeah, I work with him," said the old man. Yet another whiskey-whipped face. Welcome to Little 5 Points.

"OK, well, somebody maced him," I said.

The old man, who introduced himself as Jimmy, came to help. "What happened?" he asked Frank.

"I was out back of the club, some kids were driving real fast back here and I told them to slow the fuck down, there's people walking around, and they just fuckin' maced me," he said.

"God," I said.

"Was anybody helping him?" Jimbo asked me.

"No, but I think I was about the first to come up on him," I said. "Anyway, people are scared. You know how it is."

I admit, I was scared at first. What if this guy had attacked somebody and gotten maced for his troubles? I didn't have any reason not to believe his story, but then again I could be hopelessly naive.

I thought of Bishop Mano, who had told us that morning of "Smelling the sweat of the enemy." I actually sniffed--Frank didn't smell any worse or better than any of us. I thought of the Taleban receiving help at Bishop Mano's hospital in Peshawar. I thought, "I'm not at war with this guy. Whatever really happened, he's paying a heavy price. His friends seem like nice, decent fellows. I think my work here is done."

So I left him in the hands of his friends and went home.

UPDATE 06/18/07:

I've spoken with Jimbo several times since this incident. There's probably another post in that, eventually. But I thought I'd tell you what he told me about Frank. Basically, Frank got exactly what he deserved. He apparently told Jimbo after I left them that he had stopped a car with a young couple in it and tried to cadge some change or something from them. There was a pretty young woman in the car and Frank "touched" her. That's when he got maced.

Would I have acted differently if I had known that macing was just what this guy needed? I actually hope not. Macing seems a pretty fair price to pay for what he did. Why pile on by not giving a damn about him?

Dream Journal - 2/11/07

I was out for a drive and stopped at bowling alley for a few frames. Money was an issue. I got my bowling done, though, and left the alley. My car was in the parking lot with the hood blown off. I panicked and called for help. Raking through the wreckage I discovered a cellphone or wallet (?) with identifying information for the perp. It was a celebrity African-American race rights activist. He appeared on the scene with great bluster and full of threats. However, everything worked out ok and he accepted responsibility.

Practice

Sorry to inflict this on the listening public.

I went and played with some guys last Monday and I'm not going back...the place had issues. Nice guys, but I need to find another place to play. So I determined that I'm going to practice more at home. Lord knows I need it.

They say that one of the best ways to get better is to record your practicing. So I recorded this and here it is for you all to pick apart.

I hear:

Out of tune on 6th string. I tuned just before I played! Probably need new strings, these are kind of old.

Lots of crashes & semi-crashes. One lesson I learned from some reading I did last year, and which I took to heart since it has been a huge bugaboo in my playing: DON'T PRACTICE MISTAKES. There were many places where I would have stopped and reworked if I hadn't been taping. Is this a negative aspect of taping? I don't know, I kind of like the idea of getting used to taping. I just need to be sure that I don't solidify my mistakes.

Garageband is giving me fits. This was all it would record for me! I've recorded up to 10 minutes of stuff before; why wouldn't it do more than 90 seconds tonight? I've encountered this problem with Garageband before. I'll look it up.

Anyway, for your listening, here is tonight's practice tape.

Um, ok, I need to find that code I used to embed a player. Meanwhile, here's a link to the file. Listen at your peril. It's a slow version of Dan Tyminski's solo version of "Man of Constant Sorrow."

UPDATE:

Here's the player. Let's see if this works:

Dream Journal, 2/2/07

I was sitting in a pizza parlor with a large, close-knit (wealthy?) family - perhaps the same family as the previous dream journal. The place was like a Shakey's straight out of the '70's. They were many different races. Bill Cosby was their father. One of the boys, very young, started singing a song. As in a musical, others took up the song, taking turns singing their own verse. There was a set of twins who sang in beautiful harmony. By the end of the song, they were all holding hands. I felt like an outsider even though the pretty girl next to me was obviously offering her hand. I felt unsafe - as if, were I to reach out to her, she would laugh mockingly and pull her hand away. She looked at me with great pity and concern and I said, "I just don't 'do' people."

Reading

I can think of no higher praise for the book I'm currently reading, George R.R. Martin's "A Storm of Swords," than to recount that while leaving for work the other day, I realized I had left it behind. "I nearly forgot my people!" I said to myself as I went to retrieve it.

The first two books in the series are of course worth reading and are of course absolutely necessary for understanding what's going on in this one. So it all depends on your appetite for history that didn't really happen, with elements of fantasy thrown in for good measure. I think it's very, very well done.

I have to admit, I can't read history. I find that I'm always worried that a date or a name or an incident that was mentioned on page 35 will be mentioned again on page 900, and I'll have to wrack my brain to remember what the writer is talking about. Fictional history is easier because I know there won't really be a test.

Dream Journal, 1/30/07

I was at a family gathering - not my family, though - a joyous affair with really nice people. I also knew they were very wealthy. I was an outsider yet made to feel welcome. I decided to do the dishes as a show of friendliness. I washed the dishes but ran out of places to put the clean dishes. There was an elaborate knife block with many special knives including some that were quite fanciful.

---

I was attempting to ride public transportation to some worthy destination. I found myself in a station with many confusing platform and train options. I saw a train that looked like it was headed in the right direction so I jumped on just before it could leave. However, the train only went a few hundred yards before it encountered the end of the line (a stand-pipe looking affair in the middle of the tracks) and returned to the station. Frustrated, I shouted out, "This was a waste of all our time!" When we arrived back at the station the train that I actually needed was leaving and I resigned myself to waiting for the next one.

The train station has a magnificent entrance and landscaping with futuristic statuary and flyways, etc. Yet whenever I see this station (I've dreamed about it before) I always think A: I'm at Candler Park station and B: I might just walk instead, if only I were a little bit closer. Wherever I'm going, I'm very anxious to get there on time.

---

Something about elaborate house or landscaping work disrupting home life somehow.

Long time no see

Been awhile.

Guy stops me at the MARTA station yesterday and asks, "Can I ask you a question?" He doesn't look like a bum, so I say go ahead. (Many bums initiate their demands with, "Can I ask you a question?") Unfortunately, this fellow's question is, in a very put-upon tone, "Do I look like a bum?"

Now, scarier than the bums (who are usually rational enough to recognize that I'm way too big for them to try anything on) are the put-upon crazies. So I simply told him, "I don't want to talk with you any more" and walked away.

What would you do?

Pre-Pay Limit: $5

Attention Gas Station Owners:

I usually pay for the gas in my car with my credit card.

However, sometimes I happen to have some cash on me. So I'll pay for my gas with cash instead.

I do not know exactly how much I will be spending to fill up the tank. So when you make me prepay for using cash, you seem to think that I'm willing to walk up, give you a bunch of money, fill the tank, and walk back for my change.

Yeah, right.

Here's what I do: I walk in, peel off a fiver, and hand it to your cashier with a cheery "5 on (pump number)!", pump $5 worth of gas, and move on. You just lost at least 20 bucks, buddy! HAH!

Dearly Departed

Folks, I'm really proud of my latest production. "Dearly Departed" is a great script and we have an amazing cast. Come see!

Written by: David Bottrell & Jessie Jones
Directed by: Bill Miller
by special arrangement with: Dramatists Services, Inc.

This is the hilarious story of what happens when Bud Turpin dies
suddenly, and his wife Raynelle, their sons Ray-Bud and Junior, and
the rest of the crazy Turpin family have to come together to say
goodbye.

Presented at

Centerville Community Center
3025 Bethany Church Rd.
Snellville, GA, 30039

and

The Opera House (Dinner Theater performance)
1662 South Board St.
Commerce, GA, 30529

Further information on the venues can be found at
the theatre company site.

Presented at Centerville Community Center:
Thursday & Friday, October 19 & 20, 2006 8:00pm
Saturday, October 21, 2006 1:00 pm & 8:00 pm
Sunday, October 22, 2006 2:00 pm
Friday, October 27, 2006 8:00pm
Saturday, October 28, 2006 1:00 pm & 8:00 pm
Sunday, October 29, 2006 2:00 pm

Ticket prices are $8 at the door for matinees, $10 at the door for
evening performances.

Presented at The Opera House, Cumming, Georgia (Dinner Theater performance):
Dinner Time Showtime
Friday, November 3, 2006 7:00pm 8:00 pm
Saturday, November 4, 2006 12:00 pm 1:00 pm
Saturday, November 4, 2006 7:00 pm 8:00 pm

I'm pretty sure that ticket prices for the Dinner Theatre performances
are $30...check back with me if you're interested / concerned about
that price though.

Cast Members for "Dearly Departed"
Director & Ray Bud Bill Miller
Bud & Norval & Rev Hooker: Jerry Knoff
Raynelle: Linda Place
Lucille: Sherry Ingbritsen
Junior: Brian Jones
Marguerite & Veda: Rebecca Knoff
Royce & Clyde: Rick Thompson
Suzanne: Kristi Leyva
Delightful: Hannah Baker
Nadine & Juanita: Jocelyn McElroy
Lights & Sound: Stephen Collins

Weigh-in, Week 18

Week 1: 281
Week 2: 281
Week 3: 275
Week 4: 271
Week 5: 270
Week 6: 273.6
Week 7: 271
Week 8: 269
Week 9: 267
Week 10: 267
Week 11: 266
Week 12: 267
Week 13: 264
Week 14: 266
Week 15: 266
Week 16: 269
Week 17: 269

Week 18: 261

That's not a typo. That was the flu. I don't recommend it.

There was no weigh-in entry for Week 17, and I'm not inclined to add one. I was pretty sick by the time I weighed myself that Tuesday morning, and stayed sick the rest of the week. I'm a lot better, thanks. Today I'm going to do my first work-out since getting sick.

Surf at your own risk

Tim Blair links to a gallery of "Peace" activists (You know, the kind with Hezbollah t-shirts featuring upraised rifles) and cruelly includes an image guaranteed to cause you to rethink lunch.

Never fear, though, I've rendered the image safe for civilian viewing.

You be the judge!

Select one (1) riposte to complete the following exchange:

The scene: a church courtyard. A man and woman are standing and talking along with other parishioners: touching base, looking for volunteers, telling sob stories - all the sorts of things that take place in a church courtyard on a pleasant Sunday afternoon.

He: "Would you mind helping the R--- committee with the mailing?"
She: "Sure!!!!!!!!!!"
He: "OK, I'll call you on Tuesday with details after I get them from the contractor."
She: "I'm not going to be home Tuesday! I have lunch with my daughter's class and that really blows a hole in my day so I just turn off the phone and sleep the rest of the day! You could e-mail me, though!"
He: "OK, I'll e-mail you. Thanks."

Next Sunday. The woman is talking with a large group of women. The man walks up and waits for her to finish. He catches her eye and nods significantly, in the way that indicates "I'd like to talk with you when you're finished if you don't mind." She continues talking for another 40 fucking minutes until the women drift away. The man approaches her.

He: "I never heard back from you about the mailing for the R--- committee."
She: "What mailing????????????????...!!!!!!!!!...?!?!?!?!?!?!"
He: "The one we talked about last week. I e-mailed you on Tuesday about it."
She: "Oh...I don't check my e-mail. Would you e-mail it to me again tomorrow?"

Comments again

Unfortunately, none of my efforts stopped the flood of comment spammers. So I'm going back to the typepad thing. I'll post some information about how that works later. I just did it now because I just had to delete 7 spam comments.

I hate these people. And Zach Braff.

Weigh-in, Week 16

Week 1: 281
Week 2: 281
Week 3: 275
Week 4: 271
Week 5: 270
Week 6: 273.6
Week 7: 271
Week 8: 269
Week 9: 267
Week 10: 267
Week 11: 266
Week 12: 267
Week 13: 264
Week 14: 266
Week 15: 266

Week 16: 269

I weighed myself several times during the week, and saw values ranging from 264 to 274. So I'm still not panicking, still working out regularly. I need to get a better handle on my eating, though. It's such an ingrained thing with me.

Comment change

Just another little tweak - I'm still getting some comment spam (but thankfully not as much) so on the off-chance that the spamming scum is looking behind a link that says "Comments", I'm going to let the link to comments say "Oh Yeah???" So if you want to comment, click on "Oh Yeah???"