The Frayed Ends of Sanity

I'm pretty sure that nobody reads this anymore.  Due mainly to the fact that I never post here, but anyway...

Being that as it may, I'm officially closing this blog.  I'm not going to delete it, as there is some interesting and significant stuff in here - a pretty interesting read if I do say so myself.  However, any posting of blogs that I do will be here:

http://mwfccw.blogspot.com/

Thank you for your patronage.  I'll see you over at the new space.

First, a little backstory...

(Disclaimer: Details may be a bit fuzzy, so feel free to comment to either correct or fill in the blanks)

Waaaay back in the early 90's, some friends had the bright idea to move in together, in a house that formerly belonged to Tim's grandparents.  They had previously passed on, and the house was empty.  Initially, I was supposed to move in with Allen, Tim, and Bill, but for reasons that I can't remember anymore, I decided to pass.  I think it may have had something to do with Tim's dad having an office right there in the house, and he had written into the contract that he drew up that he could come into the main part of the house, at any time, for any reason.  I guess that didn't sit well with me, so I passed.  It then fell to Pat Crabbe, and he became the 4th roomate. 

Eventually, due to circumstances, etc, Pat moved out and I moved in for a time.  During this whole time (early 90's through 95?  96?) the house became a gathering place for bascially all of our friends.  The Samhain Smash - a HUGE and truly epic Halloween party - was born on those grounds during that time as well.  It was one of those places that hey, if you were in the neighborhood, stop in!  There was always something going on. 

Also during this time, the place was dubbed (I don't know by who) "The Pit" because...well...take 4 or 5 batchelors, put them in a house, and see if anything gets done aside from hanging out, gaming, etc.  We rarely did dishes, took out trash, etc.  Couple that with being po' (we were so hard up that we couldn't even afford the other 'or), and well, conditions there weren't optimal.  It was a squalid, smelly, unsanitary place.  And we loved it.

Fast-forward to last week (14 or so hears hence).  I get an email from Tim, saying that JD was coming through town, and he wanted to have a reunion of sorts, for the people that lived, partied, and hung out there.  Despite the fact that I am a solid 12 hour drive from there, I knew I wanted to go - and thanks to the good graces of Timbo and others, I was able to make it. 

This wasn't just a party.  This was a confluence of friends and family that sadly, may never take place again, at a place that is close to sacred for a lot of us.   It was an epic party to be sure, but it was also, truly, for me at least, a family reunion.

After driving all night, half the night through a snowstorm, I arrived at Tims at 7am - exhausted, but intact.  Lauren, one of our oldest and dearest friends, showed up at around noon, followed soon thereafter by Allen.  We stopped by Huddle House at Exit 5 for some lunch, and to get Bill's phone number, as his brother works there.  I guess I shouldn't be struck by this as much as I am, but sitting there with those 3 was almost like stepping back in time.  It's like we'd just hung out with Lauren the previous week, not 14 years earlier.

This actually is a theme that kept repeating itself throughout the day and night.  Each time another person or group of people showed up, it was like no time had elapsed since our last meeting.  Even people who were relatively new to the group, and may not have set foot in the Pit until that night, just blended right in. 

Tim cooked out, Allen pIayed video games (on systems from that era of course!), stories were told, and I probably made an idiot of myself - I'm good at that - and sometime in the wee hours I passed out.  I've seen photographic evidence of the carnage that this party wrought.  People *literally* passed out on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, bathroom, etc.  There was puking involved - and not just by me for a change.

Now, drinking, does not necessarily make for a good party.  People, friends, family - that's what makes a good party great.  This party, this gathering of forces, was that and so much more.  Somebody asked me that night "So how's life?".  "Life is good"  I remember saying.  Then I thought for a second.  "All things being equal, if I was still living here with 3 or 4 of my friends, I'd be OK with that."

So, to those of you who read this and attended, thank you.  Thank you Tim and Allen for throwing it all together.  Thanks to everyone who took even a little time out of their lives to come together and party like it was 1991. 

Sunday I awoke to probably one of the worst hangovers I've had in my considerable drinking career - I blame the kamakazes.  Either that or the fact that I'm not 22 any more.  I got very little sleep, my head was splitting, I was sleep deprived, and I was still buzzing from the energy generated the night before.  Oh, and I had a 12 hour drive ahead of me.  After eventually getting back to Tim's house, getting some food, grabbing a nap, saying a (nearly tearful) goodbye to Lauren, I too packed up and headed back to Monroeville.

It was an awesome, inspiring, exhausting, exhiliarating, drunken, scary, wonderful weekend.

And I'd do it all again tomorrow if I could...

 

Sorry folks.  No Dragon Con (again) for me this year.

Had a dream last night.  I rarely remember my dreams, but this one was vivid and stood out.

First thing I remember is hearing "Mr. Keeling!  Front and center!"

And there at the bottom of a staircase is Jamie.  Grinning like a Cheshire cat.

I remember feeling really...odd.  Confused.  You know, kind of like you'd feel if you suddenly came across someone who you thought had died.

I remember trying to explain to him that he had drowned or something, but he wasn't having any of it.  Lucid dreaming is not my thing, but I wish I would have just had a conversation with him.

It'll be 6 years in August.  I still miss him.  Perhaps he was trying to communicate with me through my dreams?  Who knows, but that's a nice thought isn't it?

Just perhaps, there's yet hope for this country.,,

My sister sent this link out.  Very good article, and explains things very well.  Even I understood it!

http://www.newyorker.com/talk/comment/2008/10/13/081013taco_talk_editors 

Smell that "new post" smell? It's coming from here: http://mwfccw.blogspot.com/

in person...the face of the gods. They were at the temple known as the Post Gazette Pavilion.

THE GODS OF METAL!!!

I saw Motorhead, Heaven and Hell (Black Sabbath with Dio), and JUDAS FUCKING PRIEST (in the words of Rob Halford (praise be His holy name)).

Such a good fucking show. I've wanted to see Priest since I got into them when I was like 16. Halford can still wail like a banshee, and none of the bands have lost a step. Ronnie James Dio is 64 for Halford's sake, and he was up there belting out tunes like a man half (or less!) his age. Incredible. There should be some pretty amusing pics of some of us aging metalheads at the show floating about. I'll post 'em if I can find 'em.