anyway, july has obviously been (and will be) a period of reflection. historically, all the reflection i’ve done has been out of desperation, fueled by despair and crippling depression. we aren’t blessed with incredible foresight, the casper clan. we tie our shoes at the bottom of the stairwell with fractured fingers. that’s how you learn.

so this is quite new. refreshingly. i don’t feel good, necessarily, but i certainly don’t feel bad. not too high, not too low. staying in and sleeping in and farting around without any dire deadlines to meet. at least for a little while.

kurt vonnegut, at the end of his life, said that he truly believed, after his 80 odd years on this planet, that there was no higher power for humans to pursue than to fart around. tinker around on a project you’ve been thinking about for nearly a decade, make a pot roast, watch the extended family members watch tv (car mod programs, mostly), take a swim, crack a couplea coors lights, toss the tennis ball, repeat with subtle changes.

i will get bored, undoubtedly, but that’s ok, because this is all finite. for now, I’ll appreciate one of life’s rare, so easy, instances. stay simple and settled and slow and sleep soundly in the guest room.

you will be taken on a brief tour with me and lefty as guides.

***

if you’re looking for me, i’m right here, near the corner of wentworth drive and old orchard. i’m staying in the red, white, and blue room. me and lefty.

stop by. i miss you.

made pancetta wrapped pork tenderloin with garlic and rosemary on the grill tonight with a side of cajun corn on the cob. these folks don’t cook much down here, so my meager talents are appreciated. plus, it gives me something to do to feel productive. it’s so easy to linger at someone’s house that it gets kinda tough after awhile.

i tried in vain to write an article on shawnee language this morning for about two hours. focus was fleeting, and i just wanted to keep laying down. my dad came in with some good fatherly advice and said ‘take a day off.’ so we went and had some very mediocre bar food at a local tavern, looked at some corvettes at a local corvette store (like a museum, but one where everything must go!) and spent a few hours drifting around the local barnes and noble. i read about the best 150 low stress jobs … the only ones i’m not tremendously overqualified for (!) are archivist and librarian. archivist sounds kind of fun … like an indiana jones-tinged librarian. but how do you find the jobs? where are they? and what’s the vacation schedule?

over at the magazine rack, i tended towards the usual. if you ever want to know how interesting (uninteresting) you are, head to a magazine rack with a few hours to kill and honestly select the stack of magazines you really want to read. i discover that the older i get, i have fewer and fewer interests … apparently they are mac os x tips (i always feel like i could be doing something more with my computer, then i read these tips, then i forget the tips and feel the same way until i read more tips), cooking, and … that’s about it. i also grabbed the rolling stone with obama on the cover and read it front to back.

obama … he really seems like he’s going to make it through the entire campaign season without succumbing to becoming a complete shill. i genuinely find him fascinating and marvel at what he might be able to, if not accomplish, at least shift/change/redefine.

steve casper’s interests are as far reaching as mine. here he is reading an article on bicycling (he rode 40 miles this morning before i got up … the guy’s 60 something).

***

this is eric.

eric is my … well let’s see … need to give the back story.

from the files of the postmodern family:

my stepmother kris …

has a daughter named jill. jill’s a few years older than me. jill is, of course, my step sister. i don’t really know jill at all … she moved to georgia years ago and i’ve maybe seen her once since i was 15. so jill got married and had a son, dylan. then she got divorced and remarried. eric is the son of her present husband and his ex-wife. i don’t know what happened to dylan.

so … who the fuck is eric? and what is he doing around all my stuff? i think he’s my step-step-half brother in law’s cousin from a second marriage?

i don’t know … kid can skateboard, though.

we disturbed the festively comatose atmosphere of wentworth drive for a spell tonight as eric threw his ass all over the sidewalk. these folks were here when i got back from baton rouge, so it’s a full house in big d.

tomorrow, i really need to pull my head out of my ass and bill some articles (although there’s talk of an afternoon baseball game).

and so it goes …

we went to the track.

nice enough track. quite a bit different than hollywood park and santa anita. seemed newer. lacked some charm. plus, it was absolutely packed …

lots of r, w, & b in the crowd. steve and kris casper represented … think ‘apple pie underwear’ …

it was america’s b-day and all, but it’s still just the track.

some exciting races … but we left early, sidestepping the fireworks show and any god bless america renditions that might have broken out.

i broke even.

***

tomorrow is baton rouge. i wasn’t before now, but i’m honestly kinda nervous. gotta find suitable living quarters while living out of an extended stay inn off the freeway. it’ll be exciting, and i’m anxious to get my boots on the ground, but it’s almost tangible now. i’m moving to louisiana. in the next few days i will have an image in my head. smells, sounds, faces.

i’ve always had this fantasy about moving somewhere where i was totally anonymous and didn’t know a soul. everywhere i have even relocated there has been a loving, yet strong willed, contact waiting at the new place. i’ve always had something there to acclimate to. a loose knit collection of people to settle in with. a warm place to put my toothbrush for a few days.

not so now. and i think it’s great. but there’s a lot more to attend to and to worry about. but, with any luck, i’ll learn something, and find a few things, and maybe even get comfortable again.

things are definitely slowing down. i’m hearing new lyrics to songs i’ve listened to hundreds of times. my evenings are quiet and consist of writing and sniffing around on the internet for baton rouge factoids. i’ve been getting up pretty regularly at about 8:30. having a cup of coffee. playing with the dogs. i am a part of the routine. the basic luxuries. simple choices.

picture this: i saw a guy today driving an older minivan, like a chevy astro, down the freeway. the back door is completely open. i come up behind him, and i see that the inside of the van is stuffed full of white metal. smashed, folded over, huge sheets of white metal. he’s also got white metal strapped to the roof. this guy is transporting a shit load of white metal in a chevy astro. as i pull up beside him, i notice the word “Expedition” in there amongst all the white metal. to my surprise, i realize that this guy is driving an old minivan down 35E with a smashed up, folded over, white Ford Expedition inside of it and on the roof. minus the tires, windows, seats, and engine, this guy had the entire shell of a fucking suv folded over and crammed inside a chevy astro and was driving it down the freeway. we made eye contact. he nodded. i gave him the thumbs up. thought about following him. thought better.

i think there’s talk of margaritas tonight at some place called ‘cheddars.’ i’ll keep you posted …

for my california friends, i should probably stop for a moment to define what mowing is. mowing is when you use a lawn mower, like this one …

to cut your own grass. you fire it up and walk behind it like so …

and it magically cuts your grass. not as magically as leaving a $50 check for the gardener, but it’s still pretty magical. this mower was actually the same mower i last mowed with back in the early 90s. still got it. me and the mower.

here’s steve casper demonstrating the finer points of ‘edging.’

after you mow, you usually need to rinse off in the shower cause mowing makes you itchy. then you grab a cold beer out of the fridge.

to mowing …