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Now where was I? Let's see. We ate dinner at the Schnitzel Ranch last night. Bratwurst, red cabbage and 0.5 liter of Hefeweizen for $6.50 from our friend and server, Gabby, a former resident of the state of Hesse in Deutschland, and wife of Randy, a former organizer of the UT football fan club in Huntsville. Gabby wore a type of dirndl (just the bodice part) - Gabby is like a sister to me but when she wears that outfit...my goodness, all I can say is vavavoom!
The past 24 hours have filled me up. I am quite zee satisfiled Kustomer. Bier und zee bratwurst haven been my frienden fur dee gut times, you zee. Sehr gut! Wundervoll!
[Actually, we Czech programmers like to take hold of this blog and make Germans out to be heavy drinkers. Do not believe what we are saying. We are just having fun at the expense of our European neighbors.]
But I was going to talk about the dark ages, the time between my time at Georgia Tech and the day I graduated from Walters State Community College with an AS General, focused on CAD. Ach du lieber, I suppose I should find a starting point for all this, if I can remember.
The haze of the Sam Adams seasonal beer from tonight's meal has made this all so fuzzy. Let's see. I attended the ETSU extension campus to pass a few classes and then left for the UT campus in Knoxville, living in a student apartment dormitory. I think that's right. But something doesn't add up. Where is a copy of my college transcript? Hmm...boy, this is a tough one. Seems like UT didn't like the fact that I didn't tell them that Georgia Tech had placed me on probation (and lost my four-year Navy ROTC scholarship in the process) and made me quit before I hardly got started?
At some point, I returned to Kingsport and worked at Montgomery Ward as a store clerk and during that time the music video, "Thriller," by Michael Jackson was released to great fanfare, attracting a large number of store patrons to the rows of TVs in the electronics section of the store. Makes me remember the many times during my minimum-wage jobs when store managers would say, "Son, I'd promote you to supervisor but I know you're destined for something greater than this because of the way you take your studies so seriously." Like how many years do I have to slave away at $3.15 an hour before I catch on to the fact that store managers really don't want to promote intellectuals? Best get a college degree.
Taught class today. Another round with students, with one core set there to learn and make good grades. The rest? Well, you know the story. Bell curve. Life. Floaters and sinkers. And then there's the drama about one instructor having difficulty dealing with another instructor's view of following the rules. Welcome to the faculty lounge. [YAWN!] Et cetera.
Took wife to Blue Willow Cafe in Scottsboro for lunch. Met the owner once again, a dandy redhead, as wonderfully delicious at flirting as her kitchen crew is at fixing food (she never remembers us but then remembers us later on, so the flirting is twice as fun!). Heard from a patron, a lady out of Ringgold, whose family farm was "stolen" from her family to be used as a school - her tale of local corruption, kickbacks and conspiracy would shake you in your boots if you had an inkling of an understanding of the truth in her words. Puts "Macon County Line" in the G-rated, cartoon movie section. And yet she's still around to tell the tale. Don't much matter now. Her farm's gone and her money in the hands of lawyers, lawmen and at least one judge. She was with three other women, including a fellow early middle-aged 9th grade teacher, a grandmotherly type, and a woman in her 20s who sho' looked fine. 'Ceptin' she seemed a might be touched. A momma's girl. A Little Edie in the making. Pure as the virgin snow and probably meant to stay that way. Old maid before she got old. Good lookin', though. Can't take that away from her. Good looks don't always equal good merchandise. But then again, don't judge a book by its covers.
Stopped at the Unclaimed Baggage Center, picking up my usual assortment of "classics," including:
- Bobbed Hair and Bathtub Gin: Writers Running Wild In the Twenties
- Melmoth the Wanderer by Maturin
- Madame Bovary by Flaubert
- The Conference of the Birds by Attar
Tried to piece together more of the dark ages, when I moved back to Knoxville and lived in a basement apartment with my sister at the corner of 15th Street and Laurel Avenue, in a rundown Victorian house since restored but housing roaches the size of Matchbox cars back when. Took classes at UT for a while until other interests or disinterest took over. Those dim, dark days when my body absorbed more than its share of chemical experimentation. I've written specifics in my novels so no need for telling more than I ought to in this blog.
Ran into the mother-daughter duo at The Baggage Center. The daughter, her eyes the color of washed-out blue marbles, searching for something but stopping short of letting discovery take hold. Curiosity but not desire. Chastity belt as tight as a funeral drum. Does she realize how her mother conceived her? Has her mother informed her? Seems not so. No need to give her my eyes for dessert.
Drove back toward town. Stopped in the village of Gurley, taking a nap in the parking lot while someone's little munchkins ran wild around the car during my wife's visit with her friends at Wisescrappers. Drove over to Wisescrappers' work in-progress, a future store with more space across the street. Met the owner's husband, Pete, who showed me the convoluted air circulation system. While he sanded the new wooden counter, I used a sharp blade to scrape old UV-ray protective film off the storefront windows, earning my bread, literally, a few homemade scones (two varieties - poppy seed and orange). In a few days, Pete's going to Germany for a three-week engineering job after giving up on the project in Kuwait. Oh, we international travelers find little rest!
Thought back to my other Knoxville-area jobs in the early 1980s - Taco Bell cook/cashier, Steak&Ale dishwasher/cook/bartender/accountant, part-time dealer, Morrill Hall cafeteria student worker, Southwestern Books summer salesman, other jobs that've faded with time (something to do with the 1982 World's Fair?).
Found myself becoming a professional restaurant worker and potentially a professional dealer and wondered what the hell I had become, moving into a flea-ridden apartment with a drug-filled street walker who gave herself away for free for nothing, who had stolen stuff from my sister and acted like it was okay. Amy Easter (yeah, that's her real name). First time I saw her she was hanging her boobs out the window at me as I moved into the apartment with my sister. Visited me and in no time let me know she wanted to trade sex for drugs. I knew she had no idea what diseases she carried so let her have drugs in exchange for details about her childhood, no matter how made-up they seemed at the time (met her hippy, hippie, streetwise mother later on and by golly, Amy's childhood tales of living on the road and sleeping in a van, learning to change clothes in public with no concept of social mores were true!).
Freaked out. Stole parents' station wagon and headed west, driving from Knoxville to Seattle to LA and back - told that story too many times. Lived out of station wagon. Sold soda bottles for cash. Drank water and washed up in roadside rest stops. Slept in car on side of the road. Picked up hitchhikers for gas money. Trip cleaned me up.
Moved in with grandparents in North Port, Florida, for a while to clear my head (Nov/Dec 1984). Returned to Kingsport and took enough classes at Walters State Community College (a/k/a Wally High) to complete my A.S. degree in May 1985.
Moved to Huntsville in April 1986, living with my new fiancee. Married in August 1986. Worked temp jobs for a while. Promised new wife I'd clean out my system. Completely cleaned up and got regular job. Been a good citizen ever since. Dark ages came to a close.
Ate at Tortora's tonight, a local Italian-style eatery. Served by Emily B., an 18-year woman who has a head firmly placed on her shoulders, plans to attend Auburn University and get a degree in engineering. Parents were patrons there, too. Wild Susan and Steady Eddie. Small world. Susan's real estate office is handling the real estate sale of the former $494,500 house next door to us. Price has dropped. $474,900. Susan predicts a bigger drop before house will sell, said it's the kind of house and neighborhood where you build and plan to live the rest of your life, not the kind of neighborhood where people plan to flip houses and make money. Asked us for details about what happened to cause sale. We think the sale is related to the owner's recent divorce. Steady Eddie said that building a house will do that to you. The house that Eddie and Susan now own (and will sell by July) was also a divorce-related sale. They plan to clear $50k with the sale of this house. One or two more sales and they'll have paid the mortgage on their house, if their daughter hasn't cleaned out their bank account with her college education (sure beats the $35k/year for out-of-state tuition at Clemson, they said).
Start cleaning house tomorrow for upcoming visit by 92-year old mother in-law. LOTS of cleaning to do. Domesticity takes over my thoughts and my writing. Sweeps insanity out the door with the dust bunnies.
Taste hops on my tongue. Look at clock. 10:45, or SHOI upside-down. Means something to someone, I'm sure. All I know is that I'm the result of a Czech trying to act like a German or Russian trying to act like an American. Where does having kids and taking care of your family come into all this? Who's lying to whom? You can't tell, can you? It shows in the eyes. I've seen your eyes but have you seen mine and if so, are you willing to look into them for very long? Some people say my eyes have a trusting, brotherly look. Others say I'm full of seductive desire. We see what we want to see, do we not? We don't need words. I know what I want. What have you got?
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