So - The long promised, anticipated and likely lamented update from the boy in the place who occasionally participates in assorted things.
Before anything else, I'd like to extend pure thanks to everyone who sent good thoughts and/or raised glasses to my dad. To talk to me for 5 minutes is to know what the man continues to mean to me. Thank you all.
The upside to updating every 8 weeks or so is that the odds are good that something of note has actually transpired since my last writing. In this case, 'something' has achieved plurality. Strange things have been afoot at the Circle K, my friends. Ok, not strange and I've never been to a Circle K, but I stand by my claim of 'afoot.'
So, in review -
Something has evolved (I've safely ruled-out cloning) into somethingssss and they are most assuredly afoot.
I enjoyed what may indeed have been the most wonderful meal of my life with Sophie and cklarock at DC2020's former home, Vivere a few weeks back. The meal, the hospitality and the company were nothing short of exquisite. You all are such wonderful, kind, generous people. Believe me when I say that, on a daily basis, I'm thankful for having had the chance to spend time with all of you and that I'm looking forward to more time in more places.
Then, Monday the 24th of April, I started school. Let's see how prestigious I can make this sound.
*clears throat*
I'm fucking going to fucking beauty school. Can you believe that shit!?
Fuck!
Beauty school?!
'But, Morgan, I thought you liked chicks?'
'Dude, I totally dig chicks. They're hot and sometimes they smell nice.'
'Seriously, man. Are you going fruity on me?'
'No way, bro. I don't give a fuck about the hair. All those liimber 19 year olds are soooo worth the tuition. Seriously. A person shouldn't be able to get that kind of access without blowing a senator and his JV quarterback stud of a son.'
'Yo, man. You're a guy and you're in beauty school. That pretty much means that you chug cock and that you totally like it.'
'Look, Chachi - If I get to hang out with limber young women (chickenheads though the may be), while working my way into a career that affords me the opportunity to be, for all intents and purposes, self-employed, carry decent health insurance, take tax deductions for the fucking clothes I wear (even shoes!!), work with my hands, avoid taking the job home with me at night AND holds the very real possibility of a 6-figure income.... Wouldn't you say that's worth taking the occasional shot in the mouth? I would.'
Chachi, his spirit now broken, shuffles away, no doubt beginning the long trip home to his screechy, pig-faced wife in Milwaukee.
So - yeah, I enrolled. Started classes and am well on my way to violating any number of state and/or federal statutes in the sexiest, most dynamic and flavorful ways I can devise.
Being in school again is nothing short of surreal. Frankly, were it not for the fact that this is genuinely where I see myself finding a synthesis of personal fulfilment and professional success in a medium that stresses autonomy, business sense and creativity, I'd have probably hired a helpful local Indian to help me float my covered wagon across the rivers of blood that would surely have been left in my wake.
I love what I'm studying and, yeah, I'm good at it. It's been a long time since I've been a student within a structure such as the one in which I presently find myself. In all candor, I can't say that it's a structure I've missed. There are innumerable short-sighted and arbitrary stupidities to be negotiated on a daily basis from uniform requirements, to strictly enforced break times, to calling the instructors Mr/Miss (First name) << that one's wicked retahded and to having a fucking text book written in the fucking first fucking person. Despite all the nonsense and despite the fact that the school has, as of yet, been unable to locate shears to fit my hands, I love what I'm doing. There is a future for me in this business - a creative, fulfilling and (yes, very) lucrative future. It can be 13th grade at times, but even the big annoyances have are fairly small in the grand scheme - except for finding me big-ass shears. Someone needs to get on that one double-quick.
If it didn't all appear to be worth it.....
wait....
right - rivers of blood.
we've been through this part already.
sorry.
Just before (in fact, the wee before) school started, my yoga instructor moved to DC. I'd attended her classes twice a week for about 8 months in addition to whatever private instructions I could afford. She really had her own way of doing things - nothing too precious, no finger cymbals or cultured yak oils. Everything was very casual and even irreverent but, for someone like me, someone who found yoga after years of inactivity followed by years of poorly structured activity, she was a godsend. Without quesiton, she (along with you, Peggysue) helped e find something that has probably been the greatest single addition to my life since my cats and the 1st time I fell in love. No joke. No exaggeration and a minimum of evangelical raving. Anyhow, Kristen's gone. That, along with beginning school has thrown my yoga practice all out of whack. I've learned enough that I'm able to maintain a modest home practice, and it appears as though I've found a studio that, in terms of quality of instructors as well as schedule and economic accessibility, will suit my needs well.
New instructors. New learning opportunities. What's not to like?
*ck, I promise I'll put together the 'good at' list. It's floatin' around somewhere in that melon o' mine. Much like me, the proprietor of said melon, it's almost ripe and just waiting to be balled.
*car geekery*
Any time now, I'll be able to swap the inclement weather tires in favor of my beautiful, fat, sticky Bridgestones. I'm finally getting the adjustable camber plates I've been eyeing for a couple of years. There's also been talk of cold-air intakes and short-throw shifters. Delicious stuff. Boy racers in slammed Altimas and tax attorneys with balls of brass in M3s and Boxters will all be crushed beneath my right foot.
****
^^
Sure signs of summer.
Weather's shitty tonight, but it's not nearly as cold as it was.
It'll be warm again before too long.
Then, somewhere in there, we'll have some fireworks, won't we.
Before anything else, I'd like to extend pure thanks to everyone who sent good thoughts and/or raised glasses to my dad. To talk to me for 5 minutes is to know what the man continues to mean to me. Thank you all.
The upside to updating every 8 weeks or so is that the odds are good that something of note has actually transpired since my last writing. In this case, 'something' has achieved plurality. Strange things have been afoot at the Circle K, my friends. Ok, not strange and I've never been to a Circle K, but I stand by my claim of 'afoot.'
So, in review -
Something has evolved (I've safely ruled-out cloning) into somethingssss and they are most assuredly afoot.
I enjoyed what may indeed have been the most wonderful meal of my life with Sophie and cklarock at DC2020's former home, Vivere a few weeks back. The meal, the hospitality and the company were nothing short of exquisite. You all are such wonderful, kind, generous people. Believe me when I say that, on a daily basis, I'm thankful for having had the chance to spend time with all of you and that I'm looking forward to more time in more places.
Then, Monday the 24th of April, I started school. Let's see how prestigious I can make this sound.
*clears throat*
I'm fucking going to fucking beauty school. Can you believe that shit!?
Fuck!
Beauty school?!
'But, Morgan, I thought you liked chicks?'
'Dude, I totally dig chicks. They're hot and sometimes they smell nice.'
'Seriously, man. Are you going fruity on me?'
'No way, bro. I don't give a fuck about the hair. All those liimber 19 year olds are soooo worth the tuition. Seriously. A person shouldn't be able to get that kind of access without blowing a senator and his JV quarterback stud of a son.'
'Yo, man. You're a guy and you're in beauty school. That pretty much means that you chug cock and that you totally like it.'
'Look, Chachi - If I get to hang out with limber young women (chickenheads though the may be), while working my way into a career that affords me the opportunity to be, for all intents and purposes, self-employed, carry decent health insurance, take tax deductions for the fucking clothes I wear (even shoes!!), work with my hands, avoid taking the job home with me at night AND holds the very real possibility of a 6-figure income.... Wouldn't you say that's worth taking the occasional shot in the mouth? I would.'
Chachi, his spirit now broken, shuffles away, no doubt beginning the long trip home to his screechy, pig-faced wife in Milwaukee.
So - yeah, I enrolled. Started classes and am well on my way to violating any number of state and/or federal statutes in the sexiest, most dynamic and flavorful ways I can devise.
Being in school again is nothing short of surreal. Frankly, were it not for the fact that this is genuinely where I see myself finding a synthesis of personal fulfilment and professional success in a medium that stresses autonomy, business sense and creativity, I'd have probably hired a helpful local Indian to help me float my covered wagon across the rivers of blood that would surely have been left in my wake.
I love what I'm studying and, yeah, I'm good at it. It's been a long time since I've been a student within a structure such as the one in which I presently find myself. In all candor, I can't say that it's a structure I've missed. There are innumerable short-sighted and arbitrary stupidities to be negotiated on a daily basis from uniform requirements, to strictly enforced break times, to calling the instructors Mr/Miss (First name) << that one's wicked retahded and to having a fucking text book written in the fucking first fucking person. Despite all the nonsense and despite the fact that the school has, as of yet, been unable to locate shears to fit my hands, I love what I'm doing. There is a future for me in this business - a creative, fulfilling and (yes, very) lucrative future. It can be 13th grade at times, but even the big annoyances have are fairly small in the grand scheme - except for finding me big-ass shears. Someone needs to get on that one double-quick.
If it didn't all appear to be worth it.....
wait....
right - rivers of blood.
we've been through this part already.
sorry.
Just before (in fact, the wee before) school started, my yoga instructor moved to DC. I'd attended her classes twice a week for about 8 months in addition to whatever private instructions I could afford. She really had her own way of doing things - nothing too precious, no finger cymbals or cultured yak oils. Everything was very casual and even irreverent but, for someone like me, someone who found yoga after years of inactivity followed by years of poorly structured activity, she was a godsend. Without quesiton, she (along with you, Peggysue) helped e find something that has probably been the greatest single addition to my life since my cats and the 1st time I fell in love. No joke. No exaggeration and a minimum of evangelical raving. Anyhow, Kristen's gone. That, along with beginning school has thrown my yoga practice all out of whack. I've learned enough that I'm able to maintain a modest home practice, and it appears as though I've found a studio that, in terms of quality of instructors as well as schedule and economic accessibility, will suit my needs well.
New instructors. New learning opportunities. What's not to like?
*ck, I promise I'll put together the 'good at' list. It's floatin' around somewhere in that melon o' mine. Much like me, the proprietor of said melon, it's almost ripe and just waiting to be balled.
*car geekery*
Any time now, I'll be able to swap the inclement weather tires in favor of my beautiful, fat, sticky Bridgestones. I'm finally getting the adjustable camber plates I've been eyeing for a couple of years. There's also been talk of cold-air intakes and short-throw shifters. Delicious stuff. Boy racers in slammed Altimas and tax attorneys with balls of brass in M3s and Boxters will all be crushed beneath my right foot.
****
^^
Sure signs of summer.
Weather's shitty tonight, but it's not nearly as cold as it was.
It'll be warm again before too long.
Then, somewhere in there, we'll have some fireworks, won't we.
VIEW 8 of 8 COMMENTS
Sometimes, said wives are actually pigs.
And it's 5 am.