What is a day? A moment divided. A set of sensations. A series of situations. Smoky blue eyes. Happiness accounted for and noted.
I will start a new blog, a new attitude, a different opinion. This blog afterthought an afterthought, an aftertaste, a reaching out from the fog, a tap on the shoulder, a smile, an agreement, an "I'm not sure what I'm doing but I'm here in the typing phase of my existence away from the from a livescribe pen and notepad to let myself (yourself) know I am (we are) alive and doing well."
I pause, taking a sip from a cylindrical glass of wasser to say hello to you who may read this. Me, in other words, in this moment, in one thought, one idea, one expression of a person's thought(s).
I want to be more than I am. I am happy to be me who is who I am in this moment, my limited vocabulary limited by my typing skills, by my thoughts, by my experience(s) with you, lonely as we are now/then.
I see your eyes. I see the eyes of Miranda, the gray/blue, blue/gray reflections coming back to me as we conversed during your memorisation of my ordering from the restaurant menu, your knowing pretty much what the other regular patrons around me would tell you what they wanted to eat. And then there was Sarah this evening, an order taker joining me and others (including my constant companion, my cohort, my spare change, my lifesaver, my bedsharer, my spouse, my wife), who passed brown and clear bottles of brewed hops and grains (i.e., beer) at the BeerQuest in the Heritage Club in Huntsville for an evening of good times between those who wanted to gather downtown for privileged drinking, a few hours of hoppy fun.
We know our presidential leader, our national icon, smokes tobacco-filled cigarettes.
We accept what we cannot change. We know Tammy Harrington (Herrington?) [like my friend Ann-Marie in HHI], whose automobile license tag reads "WINEDIVA," or some such, kept track of the beer-tasting festivities tonight, recording which beers from which state outside of Alabama provided the tongue-tingling sensations (our tastebuds tickled by high-gravity fermentation) which we'll remember best. Harry and Laura say the Upland Nuthugger did the trick. Others picked other brews.
And what a list, too (do I dare try to name some, if not most, of them all?):
- Moosbacher Schwarze Weisse
- Dragonfly IPA
- Hog Heaven Barleywine by Avery
- Dogfish Raison D'etre
- Blackheart English-style IPA
- Bathbeer Nuezeller Blofter-Brau
- Boulevard Dry Stout
- Unibroue Dark Ale (Terrible?)
- Unibroue Trois Pistoles
- Stone Vertical
- Stone XI (11th) Anniversary
- Jefferson Bourbon Barrel Stout
- Dogfish Palo Santo Marron
- Sierra Nevada Harvest Fresh Southern Hemisphere Hop
- Midas Touch Ale
- Upland Nuthugger Brown Ale
- Upland Chocolate Ale
Sarah (with an "h", with a smile, with...well, with her boyfriend Adam who finally showed up, Harry and his wife Laura providing a counterbalance). Laura, who couldn't sing, but who missed the boys' choir this year. Sarah, who grew up in a "holler" 10 miles south of the Tennessee border and 10 miles east of the Lawrence County line. Robert, who has shown up with 100 kinds of beer and who brought friends in times past who brought gallons of fresh brews for tasting / sampling / drinking / guzzling.
Anyone remember the Chicken Shack or the River Club? Anyone remember boilermakers?
Have you ever had 1/4 shot Jameson, 3/4 shot Bailey's, all dropped into a glass of Guinness?
And then the team who cleaned up after us, going to school, taking classes, wondering when they'd get to enjoy the festivities and/or have someone clean up after them.
Time for another blog. Another look at life. A new perspective. This epilogue accounted for and added up.
I enjoyed working with Glenn and Ryan and Janeil and Lawrence and Jim and others who piled and handed food to the 33rd Rocket City marathon runners/DNFs on Saturday. I met Eric Patterson (sp?), Carol (my wife's college roommate), Erin (a UTK alumnus/supporter) and many others whose faces smiled/flashed at me during the aftermath of sweaty/satisfied finishers passing through the food line.
I've seen faces in other places while looking at mobile phone providers who want my business. I still use my old-fashioned Nokia 3120 (old model) to answer calls and peruse a tiny screen for the occasional foray into the media mall world, not yet convinced to plunge into the 3G/GPS universe of Internet browsing, letting my spouse use her iPod touch to touch the worldwide web of YouTube and Google searching.
"Michelle, ma belle..", another song sung after a server served us at Chili's. "Tres bien ensemble." Built very well?
I know the faces, the smiles, the persons/people whose faces have recognised mine. Need we say more? Loneliness/alone, we know the looks. Time to find another space to share with you. Another time, perhaps? I'll post one more entry sometime to let you where I'll land. This epilogue has found its epic finish. Time to bid adieu. Adios. À bientôt. Friends from Dominican Republic to ROC, I say hello and farewell (or fair well, as the case may be). We face a new beginning, a new tomorrow, an old yesterday, a moment in forever where our paths will cross. Until then, I bow and say thanks for being my friend for the brief time we spent together. Lenier and Anita, I hope I got your names right because our friendships were right at the time...
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