moniker42

Last night around dusk I felt a great disturbance in the force.

I couldn't quite put my finger on it. A friend and I had just been speaking at great length about who is the best quarterback ever, John Elway or Brett Favre, quite a heated subject, and as I got up to look up who had won superbowl XXXII, I broke a wine glass that had been glued to the porch for eons. I put my hand over my mouth and stared at it, and though I, at the time, did not understand the signifigance of breaking the glass, it was no ordinary glass, I sensed immediately that it was important. Jeremy told me he wasn't angry with me, just upset at the horrible fate and cruel luck of the act, and in fact told me that he may hug me. I was very distrought by my seeming carelessness, I am not a clumsy person by nature.

We did not hug but everyone understood that this was an omen of ill portent. So it was that after four superbowl losses it was in superbowl XXXII that the Broncos won their first title ever against the Green Bay Packers, who have the honor of holding the most league championships in NFL history. God, as they say back home, is a Packers fan. It was superbowl XXXI that the Packers won, that much we agreed upon, but it was against the New England Patriots, not the Broncos. If prompted to fight to the death, John Elway and Brett Favre would shake hands and walk away, friends.

But it was after that, after all this had happened, just prior to leaving the house to go to pick up some grub before we hit the bars, that I felt it. A great disturbance in The Force. It was clear, somewhere, something terrible was happening. Somewhere, perhaps, the seeds of something terrible were being sewn, but one thing was clear, it was another ill omen. The worst sort of omen.

I said nothing, and in my anxiety I donned the hoody that I had found on the ground a day earlier, a wonderful hoody that someone loved deeply. It was after a rummage sale and all of those items that did not get sold were placed by the roadside to be taken by passersby. I also got a rather nice sleeping bag and a cigar cutter.

After a quick bite to eat we went to the bar Dubliners. It was Karaoke night. Katie, a girl who came with us, sang back to back Journey songs. I have never heard a more heart warming rendition of Don't Stop Believin'. It was not the same Katie who had attended Karaoke with us back home. Another strange coincedance. Two Katies. Two Karaoke nights.

We had originally planned on going to The Blue Moon, a dive bar where Allen Ginsberg has been fabled to have watered at and it is also local custom that Tom Robbins still drinks there, on occasion. I had the privilage of meeting Tom Robbins once. I am too young to have ever met Allen Ginsberg save once, in a dream, which I think I had related here once.

I asked him "Do you ever hang out with Bob Dylan anymore" and he told me, mockingly "No, I'm dead".

As I had said, we were originally going to go to The Blue Moon Tavern but upon arrival I attempted to get money out of an ATM machine and it said that I had insufficient funds. This was clearly not the case as I had deposited money earlier that day, it must not have cleared yet.

There is a large sign above the bar at the Blue Moon, a picture of Our Lord And Savior, Johnny Cash, with the words "Cash Only" in bold print written below.

Ah well. On to Dubliners and Karaoke night. It was a fantastic night out, though there again my debit card was declined! Tim, a denizen here at the house had to spot me. I had already bought us all a pitcher, myself a large mug of beer, and a shot of Irish Whiskey. I have looked at my bank account today, the deposit went through just fine, though I find myself slapped with, I think, an undeserved overdraft fee of 30 dollars. I would call and contest it but frankly I would gladly pay thirty dollars to avoid speaking with an automated answering service or some petty bureaucrat, sucking all the magic out of the world in favor of rules, order, the letter of the law, and technicalities. I am usually fairly good with handling money and this sort of thing so it really threw me off.

Clearly my Luck is not what it used to be.

Luck is something I have always had in abundance, it is my most clear characteristic. Perhaps, as they say, my luck is finally running out. It has been said of me by my best friend that my only talent is a superhuman ability for good luck. I suppose we all have our off days.

Last night I had a dream. I am not making this up. In that dream I met with a magician and the magician showed me all manner of feats and tricks, decks of cards and trick dice and we went and showed the populous all manner of feats and tricks and prestidigitation. Eventually the magician and I went our separate ways and I had gone far afield to see the relic of the tome of the great author Borges. It was ancient. Dusty. On it, embedded in silver, was a mask. The mask itself was tarnished and where there should have been eyes there were two huge silver coins, Peruvian, ancient, heavy. I saw that the magician's apprentice was attempting to steal them! With a pick he was digging away at the silver mask trying to pop them out! He eventually succeeded, shifty looking little rat of a man, beady eyes, dirt and grime below his fingernails. After chasing after him for some time I lost him and found on the ground the magician's set of cards and could see that they were printed on with all kinds of symbols used to trick the senses.

When I woke up this morning and I went to Kuan Yin, a tea house up a few block and drank some Wu Wei.

After finding that my bank account was in order I recieved an email from my mother. She had killed my Bonsai tree, Arthur Bonzarelli that I had told her to watch after. Sigh. I went for a walk and came upon a novelty shop, filled with toys and games and clever things. I looked around and found nothing of any real interest and before I left I saw that there was a sign written on the back of a chair that had said

"I am not a number"

I remarked that it was a reference to the 1967 television series "The Prisoner" and the man sitting there told me I should go tell that to the women behind the counter. Apparently the name of the shop was "I am not a number" and there was a contest. To win you had to name the reference.

I told her. She gave me a "Wash away your sins" towelette.

Kills sins on contact. Spot check for stubborn guilt. I have not used it yet, I think I may though. Perhaps my luck has not changed so much, after all.

After that I went in search of a good sandwich. I often feel as though my life is just the search for the perfect sandwich. After walking around for a half hour I gave up and went into a subway. Ah well. Nothing can be perfect, after all.

I also recieved an email today that my friend has joined a band and that they are going on tour. Bascom Hill. They are going on tour with The Gufs.

Should I be proud of my friend for joining a band and going on tour, or unhappy because both bands are horrible? No matter. I've known the guy since we were little kids, he's family. I'm happy for him. It's good to get out of the house once in a while.