I'm sitting in a recliner listening to "Jackson Hole" by James Wesley for either the fifth or tenth time. I'm convinced your sense of time gets thrown out of whack during the early AM hours. It's got something to do with the fact most people don't consider it a new day until one goes to bed and wakes up.
Conclusion: People who go 3 or 4 days straight without sleeping are interesting subjects, as they seemingly spit in the face of concepts such as that of "days".
That song is good. If you're a country music fan you'll click that link and not be disappointed, I promise. It was the best part of the night, easily — even better than the double cheeseburgers and fries I was waiting in line for in the McDonald's drive-thru when the song came on the radio. His voice reminds me of a blend of Blake Shelton and Jason Aldean, two contemporary artists whose music I enjoy. The song itself was spawned from the same hand that wrote "Amarillo Sky" and "I Saw God Today", each great songs, and I think it outshines both of those tremendously.
*********
So...it's been a while, huh? "I've been busy." That's always the go-to tactic. To me, using the phrase "I've been busy" to justify the lack of doing things you love to do is like saying "I've been lazy" to justify your lack of working - it's inherently dumb.
Yea, I give as much validity to pleasure as productivity. Sue me.
The thing is though, I HAVE been busy. It's been a good busy though. I've been doing things I love. The victim, unfortunately, has been this blog.
I've been busy having a job. I've been working at the Lexington Herald-Leader for about 3 weeks now and I'm so-so on it. My co-workers are great people - a newsroom full of sports news assistants is not a bad place to be. The job leaves a little bit to be desired in terms of what you actually get to do, but I imagine there's room for growth if I choose to remain there for an extended duration (or if they allow me). Alas, it's hard to complain about 10 dollars an hour when all you really have to do is talk on the phone and type up high school basketball reports.
I've been busy playing Yu-Gi-Oh! madly again. Playing back home and playing in Lexington are two different animals. At home, I was top of the class, anything I built was fantastic because I was among the best players since there were so few actual good players. Here, even some little kids are good. The culture is different - people play competitively and it's so much easier to trade for things you need as opposed to buying them. It's a great addiction.
I've been busy earning the 4.0 GPA I managed in my first semester of college. I survived Journalism 101 with Buck Ryan, which if you ask Jackie Marker isn't excruciatingly difficult, but presents its own set of annoyances that could easily get to a person who has little control of their mind. It's definitely made me reconsider a future in journalism.
Although I felt like I made a pretty good friend through Philosophy 120 in Zac, whose name is listed simply as Zac (Logic) in my cell phone contacts list (I never asked for his last name the whole semester), and I connected pretty well with our teaching assistant, Brian, that's a class I won't miss. Looking back, the concepts were interesting, I just don't see myself ever taking a lot from that class other than a required credit by the university. Hopefully I'm proved wrong.
Gender and Geography was a last ditch effort to get a social sciences credit to replace the lack of world politics in my schedule after I dropped it (8 AM + me = no way in college). Starting off, it was just a way to get 3 extra hours to bring me back up to 15. It was a fantastic decision. Professor Moorer was likely my favorite - definitely the most helpful and instructive - of the semester. It wasn't a typical class, and that probably plays into why I enjoyed it and my comic book class so much. However, the conversations and controversies that got brought up were great - plus I made a great friend in Trey Lindsey. What more could you ask for in a class?
Agricultural Economics was my scariest of the semester, as it turned out to be the class I came closest to not getting an A in. 90 points. Right on the line. Had to get a B on the last test to secure that, and did so by the skin of my teeth. I won't blame the obscure grading system, as others have done, cause in some ways it made sense. The class yielded a good pal in Jordon Cook, a young man who reminds me of a friend in Martin County, Alex Alley. It also provided me with an arena to converse with Ginger Waters other than MySpace, and now she's one of my best friends. Nothing to complain about.
DSP 120, though, as much as the other 4 classes provided, was the best. My semi-recent dive into comic book culture (I say "semi-recent" because I've only been reading comic books for a year or so, but have been a fan of the characters for years) made me not think twice about signing up for the class - and thank goodness! Not only did we talk extensively about a subject I truly enjoyed, but it led me to build a friendship with several good people, such as Hillary Smith, Dave Christopher and Amanda Goff - the last of whom coincidentally is dating a person Heath befriended back at BSCTC!
By the way, it also led to the greatest part of the University of Kentucky experience for me. Erin Hall.
The short brown-haired girl with the Batman messenger bag. The girl I couldn't keep my eyes off in her presence and mind off out of it. The girl who, after our first real conversation, I ran to my dorm and jotted down everything I could remember that she told me cause I was so enthralled with her. It's been a long time since someone captured my attention and emotion like she has.
Hour-long chats after comic class, walks to Comic Interlude, innocent Facebook flirting...things led to other things and we've been dating for several months now. I haven't been as happy as I am with her in a vast amount of time. I'm thankful for her. I'm glad there's a name attached to the girl with the Batman messenger bag - a girl I've fallen for and am better off for it. She's fantastic. Erin Hall is fantastic - period.
As you can see, I've been busy with things I love. This blog took a backseat, but my writing didn't. I've been carrying my journal around with me all the time during the past few months, jotting random thoughts, ideas and observations down.
I won't promise that it won't be another month or two before another post is made. I do think about this site all the time. I do think about writing up random bits about my day, or thoughts, or feelings - yet they all get manifested into something else, it seems.
So, whether it's two months or two days, my love of words is going strong in some form, regardless of if it's here for the world to see.
---Joshua Aaron Moore
12/21/2009
11/02/2009
10/28/2009
I Can't Think of a Better Way to Drown
There are old issues of the Kentucky Kernel littering the floor space underneath my bed, dating back to at least the first week of October. I haven't had the initiative to put them in the box I'm keeping newspapers in. In addition to action figures, Yu-Gi-Oh! cards and DVDs, I collect newspapers. There's something about reading printed word that does something for me that digital words don't. Also, it's never bad to have pieces of history at your disposal - you never know when that article during Sex Week at UK involving men in high heels is going to come in handy.
Hip-hop music saturates the environment I'm currently writing in. I've chosen to drown it out with a mix of Eli Young Band, Tim McGraw and LFO. Nothing combats generic rap lyrics that don't make any sense like unrelated pop lyrics that don't make any sense. "I'll steal your honey like I stole your bike!" How can you not love that?
I need to get stuff finished. I'm blogging instead of writing up a half-page assignment for journalism, a two-page journal entry for Geography and Gender and two proof problems for Logic. None of these things are difficult, yet here I am procrastinating.
Part of it has to with me still having ample time to complete each one. The journalism assignment is due Monday and the G&G entry is due Tuesday. The Logic problems were assigned for Friday. I'll do those tomorrow night. Thursday night has become Logic night.
The Geography and Gender assignment will be worked on over the weekend. This will be the only calm weekend in my foreseeable future, so I need to get as much completed as I can. Kyle's visiting family in Cincinnati and I'll have the room to myself. Erin's going to an Anime convention in Fort Mitchell, Kentucky, so there'll be no one to distract me (unfortunately) from my work.
Heath and Curtis are coming down next weekend - not going to work any then.
Same goes for the weekend after that, when I'll be celebrating my birthday by visiting my family and going to a Daughtry/Theory of a Deadman/Cavo concert with Heath and Curtis.
Thanksgiving happens soon, as well.
This is going to be the busiest November in recent memory. It's fantastic though.
It's great having stuff to do, having people to do things with, having each day welcome you with opportunities to broaden your mind and explore the world.
The greatest thing I've learned so far while at college wasn't from a textbook. It's that appreciating every moment you're in is essential. It's that clearing your mind of any expectations and going along for the ride can be enlightening.
It's that you can go from having a scarce amount of people to converse with to wearing a dragon mask and making friends in a matter of minutes.
It's that walking at 3 o'clock in the morning in the midst of thirty-degree temperatures can result in you being an adopted uncle.
It's that having a broken printer is one of the best things that could have ever happened to you.
It's seizing every moment and holding on as long you can - forever, preferably.
¡JAM!
Joshua Aaron Moore
Hip-hop music saturates the environment I'm currently writing in. I've chosen to drown it out with a mix of Eli Young Band, Tim McGraw and LFO. Nothing combats generic rap lyrics that don't make any sense like unrelated pop lyrics that don't make any sense. "I'll steal your honey like I stole your bike!" How can you not love that?
I need to get stuff finished. I'm blogging instead of writing up a half-page assignment for journalism, a two-page journal entry for Geography and Gender and two proof problems for Logic. None of these things are difficult, yet here I am procrastinating.
Part of it has to with me still having ample time to complete each one. The journalism assignment is due Monday and the G&G entry is due Tuesday. The Logic problems were assigned for Friday. I'll do those tomorrow night. Thursday night has become Logic night.
The Geography and Gender assignment will be worked on over the weekend. This will be the only calm weekend in my foreseeable future, so I need to get as much completed as I can. Kyle's visiting family in Cincinnati and I'll have the room to myself. Erin's going to an Anime convention in Fort Mitchell, Kentucky, so there'll be no one to distract me (unfortunately) from my work.
Heath and Curtis are coming down next weekend - not going to work any then.
Same goes for the weekend after that, when I'll be celebrating my birthday by visiting my family and going to a Daughtry/Theory of a Deadman/Cavo concert with Heath and Curtis.
Thanksgiving happens soon, as well.
This is going to be the busiest November in recent memory. It's fantastic though.
It's great having stuff to do, having people to do things with, having each day welcome you with opportunities to broaden your mind and explore the world.
The greatest thing I've learned so far while at college wasn't from a textbook. It's that appreciating every moment you're in is essential. It's that clearing your mind of any expectations and going along for the ride can be enlightening.
It's that you can go from having a scarce amount of people to converse with to wearing a dragon mask and making friends in a matter of minutes.
It's that walking at 3 o'clock in the morning in the midst of thirty-degree temperatures can result in you being an adopted uncle.
It's that having a broken printer is one of the best things that could have ever happened to you.
It's seizing every moment and holding on as long you can - forever, preferably.
¡JAM!
Joshua Aaron Moore
10/13/2009
Tripbase.com Short Story
Before the Big Easy
I’ll confess that I didn’t wake up last Friday expecting to book reservations for a hotel in New Orleans, Louisiana for next week. But, when you’re a college sophomore with extra cash and a girlfriend who wants to spend the first Christmas you share together somewhere memorable, the word expectations might as well not exist in your vernacular. Luckily, my mom’s boyfriend turned me onto this website, Tripbase.com, which enables a person to locate a perfect vacation destination and plan based on interest sliders and income factors. We’ll see if New Orleans is as ideal for my lady and I as you claim, Tripbase.
I’m in it for the Hornets game on the 23rd. They’re hosting Golden State that night. I foresee a high-scoring affair, a Chris Paul triple double, and her asking me why Stephen Jackson got ejected – because he will be – resulting in an explanation that the refs decided he intentionally elbowed David West in the groin, a flagrant two foul by NBA standards. I don’t know why she’ll ask either; she‘ll only be there because I wanted to be there and doesn’t really care about what’s going on. By the time we’re heading out of “The Hive”, she won’t know the difference between a technical and a turnover. That’s fine, because we’ve been together for three months and I still can’t tell the difference between most of her knitting needles.
“She” is Erin: A lover of yarn, a baker of cookies, and a worker of the cash register at Blazer Café. She’s in it for the ample knitting time 14 hours worth of driving will provide her, and just to get away from our old Kentucky home. We’re spending New Years Eve at her parent’s place in Independence and she’s determined to have that blanket she promised her mom for Christmas finished by the time we cross back over into Kentucky from Tennessee. Heaven help me if she doesn’t.
At least I won’t have to worry about getting pulled over for speeding. If I go even a mile over any of the posted speed limits she’ll claim I’m trying to sabotage her project. Her mother and I may not get along as much as I’d like, but I wouldn’t go as far to try to ruin her Christmas present. Although, the fact she persistently insists that I’m going to “take her little baby down to New Orleans and get her drunk and knocked up, then abandon her for a Mardis Gras whore” does make the notion of accidently hitting potholes in the road to break one of Erin’s needles on the way back awfully tantalizing.
If I were going to abandon her for anyone, it certainly wouldn’t be for a “Mardis Gras whore” – too high a risk of catching something. Mardis Gras doesn’t happen until February, anyway.
I wouldn’t abandon her, though. She’s without a doubt the greatest thing that’s happened to me since I moved to Lexington to attend the University of Kentucky (though I’ll put it out there that Tolly Ho’s “Super Ho” cheeseburger is definitely a close second). After watching her from afar for several weeks in the comic book class we shared the fall semester of our freshman year, I worked up the nerve to speak to her. Minor chit-chat transformed into daily conversation. Daily conversation transformed into smiles on our faces when we were around each other. Smiles on our faces transformed into “Let’s watch ‘The Big Bang Theory’ all day long and order Chinese take-out.” “The Big Bang Theory” and Chinese take-out transformed into a kiss so soft that the pillows at the foot of her bed were envious.
I wouldn’t even think about abandoning a kiss that soft, especially when I’m going to need it like the desert needs rain if the Hornets lose to the Warriors that night.
Ah, who am I kidding? I’ll need it just as bad if they win, too.
After the Big Easy
To simplify it for the masses who wouldn’t understand a long and drawn out explanation about the intricate process behind the selection method the site uses to determine a vacation destination, Tripbase’s Destination Finder is awesome. I’ll admit I had my doubts about the site, but they were all cast away after mine and Erin’s excellent week in New Orleans. That’s even including the fact that New Orleans got decimated by Golden State. Who would have guessed Chris Paul would go down with a twisted ankle in the first quarter?
Stephen Jackson did get ejected that night, still. Some predictions are just too easy to make. It’s a shame he punched his own teammate, though. Poor little Stephen Curry. I’m willing to bet the Warriors will do now what they should have done in the pre-season – trade his ass.
After the Hornets game, we had two other spots we for sure had to hit during our week long stay. The New Orleans Museum of Art and Bourbon Street.
The New Orleans Museum of Art was Erin’s idea, but it sure was worth the 16 dollars total it cost us. She thought it was enlightening. I did too, but my enlightenment primarily involved the breasts of 400 year old females. Looking at naked women and not feeling dirty afterwards is always worth the sticker price.
However, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – boobs are easily one of the straight man’s most lofty goals, and the effort he puts into seeing them is more often than not directly related to the quality of the boobs in question. 8 dollar museum boobs are, unfortunately, no exception to this rule.
I actually expressed my “boob theory” to a museum operator then proceeded to get into a complex discussion about the human body, artistic integrity, and whether or not Playboy was expressive of both in unison. Erin’s embarrassment due to the conversation and the employee’s compassionate stance against the magazine’s “perversion of the human form”, as he put it, led me to believe the argument wasn’t going to end well, so we left the museum abruptly soon thereafter. I got hell over it that whole day. Lobster dinner on the coast that evening made up for it, of course.
As for Bourbon Street, we traversed nearly every inch of it during our final day in the city before we left for Independence., Kentucky. Neither of us drinks alcohol, so by hanging around in a place with one of the finest collection of bars, we were as obscure as an on-duty prostitute at an ice cream social. The only difference between the prostitute and us is that she gets to eat ice cream and could potentially gain monetarily from her venture if she’s discreet enough about it.
We managed to enjoy the French-labeled road without a single drop of liquor painting our tongues, though the environment surrounding a harem of bars probably tainted our breaths slightly with alcohol anyway. We walked up and down the street several times, stopping to take in the soothing melodies produced by jazz musicians whom we gave several of our dollar bills, to observe the historical buildings that looked out of place amongst the liquor stores, and to purchase souvenirs at a gift shop that claimed it was the best in New Orleans. Whether it was truly better than the one that had a similar sign hanging on its door about two blocks away isn’t something I could confirm for you. We topped the evening off with dinner at a 24-hour grill whose burgers definitely are in contention for the best in the world, at least by the standards of these taste buds – so no lying on their part.
The ride home was pothole free, which was good news for the blanket. I looked for them, I swear. It got finished before we even crossed over into Alabama, so much of Erin’s time on the way home was spent sleeping in the passenger seat with her bangs shielding her eyelids. I listened to country music turned down low as I fought against the night and its yawn-bringing. I’d check on her every few minutes to make sure the twangs coming from the speakers weren’t waking her. She hates country music, and waking up to it probably wouldn’t be high on her list of pleasant experiences. After a while of worrying about forcing her out of dream world, I turned the radio off and listened to the stars and her slow, soft breaths.
I stopped at a rest area at the Kentucky-Tennessee border to piss and reinvigorate myself before the final three or so hours of driving that were required to get to Independence. After I left the rest room I started to put quarters into a pop machine when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
“I already bought you one.”
It was Erin, awoken from her slumber and standing in front of me in her black wool coat that wasn’t doing her much good in the December wind after having been in a heated vehicle for over 10 hours. She was holding a bottle of Mountain Dew in her left hand.
“How did you know what I wanted?” I queried jokingly. I took a swig of the soda and smiled at her, teeth showing.
“Do I have Mountain Dew mouth yet?”
“I’m not sure. I need a closer look.”
She stood on her toes and leaned up to kiss me. We both smiled and made our way back to the car. It didn’t take her long after we got back on the highway for her to pass out again.
And so I was left once more with the stars and her breaths. The same stars that would have painted the night sky anywhere we could have went. The same breaths I would have wanted to hear regardless of the destination.
I’ll confess that I didn’t wake up last Friday expecting to book reservations for a hotel in New Orleans, Louisiana for next week. But, when you’re a college sophomore with extra cash and a girlfriend who wants to spend the first Christmas you share together somewhere memorable, the word expectations might as well not exist in your vernacular. Luckily, my mom’s boyfriend turned me onto this website, Tripbase.com, which enables a person to locate a perfect vacation destination and plan based on interest sliders and income factors. We’ll see if New Orleans is as ideal for my lady and I as you claim, Tripbase.
I’m in it for the Hornets game on the 23rd. They’re hosting Golden State that night. I foresee a high-scoring affair, a Chris Paul triple double, and her asking me why Stephen Jackson got ejected – because he will be – resulting in an explanation that the refs decided he intentionally elbowed David West in the groin, a flagrant two foul by NBA standards. I don’t know why she’ll ask either; she‘ll only be there because I wanted to be there and doesn’t really care about what’s going on. By the time we’re heading out of “The Hive”, she won’t know the difference between a technical and a turnover. That’s fine, because we’ve been together for three months and I still can’t tell the difference between most of her knitting needles.
“She” is Erin: A lover of yarn, a baker of cookies, and a worker of the cash register at Blazer Café. She’s in it for the ample knitting time 14 hours worth of driving will provide her, and just to get away from our old Kentucky home. We’re spending New Years Eve at her parent’s place in Independence and she’s determined to have that blanket she promised her mom for Christmas finished by the time we cross back over into Kentucky from Tennessee. Heaven help me if she doesn’t.
At least I won’t have to worry about getting pulled over for speeding. If I go even a mile over any of the posted speed limits she’ll claim I’m trying to sabotage her project. Her mother and I may not get along as much as I’d like, but I wouldn’t go as far to try to ruin her Christmas present. Although, the fact she persistently insists that I’m going to “take her little baby down to New Orleans and get her drunk and knocked up, then abandon her for a Mardis Gras whore” does make the notion of accidently hitting potholes in the road to break one of Erin’s needles on the way back awfully tantalizing.
If I were going to abandon her for anyone, it certainly wouldn’t be for a “Mardis Gras whore” – too high a risk of catching something. Mardis Gras doesn’t happen until February, anyway.
I wouldn’t abandon her, though. She’s without a doubt the greatest thing that’s happened to me since I moved to Lexington to attend the University of Kentucky (though I’ll put it out there that Tolly Ho’s “Super Ho” cheeseburger is definitely a close second). After watching her from afar for several weeks in the comic book class we shared the fall semester of our freshman year, I worked up the nerve to speak to her. Minor chit-chat transformed into daily conversation. Daily conversation transformed into smiles on our faces when we were around each other. Smiles on our faces transformed into “Let’s watch ‘The Big Bang Theory’ all day long and order Chinese take-out.” “The Big Bang Theory” and Chinese take-out transformed into a kiss so soft that the pillows at the foot of her bed were envious.
I wouldn’t even think about abandoning a kiss that soft, especially when I’m going to need it like the desert needs rain if the Hornets lose to the Warriors that night.
Ah, who am I kidding? I’ll need it just as bad if they win, too.
After the Big Easy
To simplify it for the masses who wouldn’t understand a long and drawn out explanation about the intricate process behind the selection method the site uses to determine a vacation destination, Tripbase’s Destination Finder is awesome. I’ll admit I had my doubts about the site, but they were all cast away after mine and Erin’s excellent week in New Orleans. That’s even including the fact that New Orleans got decimated by Golden State. Who would have guessed Chris Paul would go down with a twisted ankle in the first quarter?
Stephen Jackson did get ejected that night, still. Some predictions are just too easy to make. It’s a shame he punched his own teammate, though. Poor little Stephen Curry. I’m willing to bet the Warriors will do now what they should have done in the pre-season – trade his ass.
After the Hornets game, we had two other spots we for sure had to hit during our week long stay. The New Orleans Museum of Art and Bourbon Street.
The New Orleans Museum of Art was Erin’s idea, but it sure was worth the 16 dollars total it cost us. She thought it was enlightening. I did too, but my enlightenment primarily involved the breasts of 400 year old females. Looking at naked women and not feeling dirty afterwards is always worth the sticker price.
However, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – boobs are easily one of the straight man’s most lofty goals, and the effort he puts into seeing them is more often than not directly related to the quality of the boobs in question. 8 dollar museum boobs are, unfortunately, no exception to this rule.
I actually expressed my “boob theory” to a museum operator then proceeded to get into a complex discussion about the human body, artistic integrity, and whether or not Playboy was expressive of both in unison. Erin’s embarrassment due to the conversation and the employee’s compassionate stance against the magazine’s “perversion of the human form”, as he put it, led me to believe the argument wasn’t going to end well, so we left the museum abruptly soon thereafter. I got hell over it that whole day. Lobster dinner on the coast that evening made up for it, of course.
As for Bourbon Street, we traversed nearly every inch of it during our final day in the city before we left for Independence., Kentucky. Neither of us drinks alcohol, so by hanging around in a place with one of the finest collection of bars, we were as obscure as an on-duty prostitute at an ice cream social. The only difference between the prostitute and us is that she gets to eat ice cream and could potentially gain monetarily from her venture if she’s discreet enough about it.
We managed to enjoy the French-labeled road without a single drop of liquor painting our tongues, though the environment surrounding a harem of bars probably tainted our breaths slightly with alcohol anyway. We walked up and down the street several times, stopping to take in the soothing melodies produced by jazz musicians whom we gave several of our dollar bills, to observe the historical buildings that looked out of place amongst the liquor stores, and to purchase souvenirs at a gift shop that claimed it was the best in New Orleans. Whether it was truly better than the one that had a similar sign hanging on its door about two blocks away isn’t something I could confirm for you. We topped the evening off with dinner at a 24-hour grill whose burgers definitely are in contention for the best in the world, at least by the standards of these taste buds – so no lying on their part.
The ride home was pothole free, which was good news for the blanket. I looked for them, I swear. It got finished before we even crossed over into Alabama, so much of Erin’s time on the way home was spent sleeping in the passenger seat with her bangs shielding her eyelids. I listened to country music turned down low as I fought against the night and its yawn-bringing. I’d check on her every few minutes to make sure the twangs coming from the speakers weren’t waking her. She hates country music, and waking up to it probably wouldn’t be high on her list of pleasant experiences. After a while of worrying about forcing her out of dream world, I turned the radio off and listened to the stars and her slow, soft breaths.
I stopped at a rest area at the Kentucky-Tennessee border to piss and reinvigorate myself before the final three or so hours of driving that were required to get to Independence. After I left the rest room I started to put quarters into a pop machine when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
“I already bought you one.”
It was Erin, awoken from her slumber and standing in front of me in her black wool coat that wasn’t doing her much good in the December wind after having been in a heated vehicle for over 10 hours. She was holding a bottle of Mountain Dew in her left hand.
“How did you know what I wanted?” I queried jokingly. I took a swig of the soda and smiled at her, teeth showing.
“Do I have Mountain Dew mouth yet?”
“I’m not sure. I need a closer look.”
She stood on her toes and leaned up to kiss me. We both smiled and made our way back to the car. It didn’t take her long after we got back on the highway for her to pass out again.
And so I was left once more with the stars and her breaths. The same stars that would have painted the night sky anywhere we could have went. The same breaths I would have wanted to hear regardless of the destination.
9/17/2009
The Real 40
I relish the walk to and back from the Garrigus Building, part of the Agricultural Sciences complex at the University of Kentucky. The 15-25 minute trek I make down (then back up) South Limestone is arguably one of the best experiences I take part in at UK. How lucky for me is it that this experience occurs twice a week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays?
I have an Agricultural Economics class from 12:30 PM to 1:45 PM each of those days. The class itself is enjoyable enough, considering what it is. It appears it could become even better due to new faces that I've begun to converse with - a girl by the name of Ginger Waters and a fellow who called himself Jordan when I asked. Each seem like compelling people that I look forward to getting to know better.
The professor is also likable, at least in my opinion. I think he recognizes that his material for the class isn't the most entertaining, but he goes about teaching it in exuberant form. I admire his passion. The fact that he's a fellow eastern Kentuckian might grant me some bias towards him, as well.
The increasing enjoyment is only a minute part of why I enjoy the walk so much. The health benefits factor in, obviously. It's aided me in learning the ways of the city streets - when it's okay to cross when the light says stop, and when it's not. It sounds pathetic, I'm sure, to many "city folk", but the only street I ever had to cross was the one between Sheldon Clark High School and our football field. I don't even know if that's a street.
However, the greatest part of the walk is that it takes me back to the days when I would sit on the school bus in the mornings and escape into my iPod in my attempts to drown out to the obscene rants of Johnny Jones, Samantha Casto and her sister Jessica, and Vicki Williamson - the "cool kids" on my bus. My 60 gigabyte baby would get me through countless mornings; some mornings it was the only thing I woke up looking forward to and would end up being the best part of the day. This occurred often in the "Heather days".
Alas, I finally got a car passed down to me and my driver's license this past summer, and the days of riding the bus were over. So gone, too, were my AM love affairs with my current country, alternative and comedy favorites. I had a CD player and a radio, but the effect wasn't the same. I couldn't get lost in the words like I loved to before - that is, if I didn't want to crash my vehicle.
That brings us to the present. I didn't bring my Jeep with me to UK, and I'm not very partial to bikes, so walking is my primary means of transport. Walking requires far less attention, at least for me, than driving. Just as I did during my first few years of high school, I have turned to my iPod for protection against the outside world during my freshman year of college. Only this time, the hours are later and the "cool kids" are sounds of the street: cars passing by and honking absurdly, construction that cripples the commute at times, and fellow pedestrians that share the sidewalk with me.
When those headphones are in my ears, though, I'm the only man on the concrete. It's just me, my thoughts and whoever the artist or artists I've chosen to spend my time with.
Today, I spent it with Tracy Lawrence
I let "Texas Tornado" sling me back into middle school, when I first started digging into his musical repertoire. I think the feeling some people get when they first listen to The Beatles or Bob Dylan, musical legends by many accounts, is the same feeling I got when I first discovered many of the country artists I listen to so frequently today. Tracy is one of those singers. I remember thinking of Lauren Kirk back then when I listened to this; I crushed on her like a fiend for quite a while before high school. Disturbing at its worse, spectacular at its best - which was always in my mind, haha.
"The Cards" took me back to the most frightening time of my life, or at least what in retrospect is what I'd call the most frightening time - back to the "Heather days". Luckily, to a good aspect of them - all the letters we would use to write back and forth to each other. Back to cute little aliases we bestowed upon each other - Princess CrUX and Prince Batman - which I still sign my blogs with, mostly out of habit. Back to self-decorated borders with improvised images that would outdo the greatest artists of all time. Back to "I'll love you forevers" that turned out to not be the case, and it's good that that they didn't.
"If I Don't Make It Back" and "You Find Out Who Your Friends Are" propelled me into images of a hypothetical future and reflections of all my friendships that have been formed in the past few years, and hopes for the ones that are forming and will form in the years to come. I've got a good feeling about who my truest friends are. There are some I keep in very little touch with that I care more about than ones I talk to everyday. It would maybe surprise some of them to find out how important they really are in the grand scheme of things - but they're all valuable, regardless, and they all have love going their way from me.
Intertwined with these lyric-induced projections were thoughts of my own. The most notable one was a song idea - my third of the week. Lexington has ailed my creative lapse that existed back home in respect to lyric writing. I welcome it with the greatest appreciation. Expect "Sugar" to be making its way to your eyes in good time, readers.
I can't remember each song I listened to. The above is just a list of highlights, the ones that triggered the most inside of my brain.
Today was a Tracy Lawrence.
Tuesday was a Brad Paisley.
Another day was a Josh Turner with some Patton Oswalt.
Next Tuesday might be a Relient K with a dash of The Maine or Trace Adkins.
I'll have to wait until how my feet feel when they're hitting the pavement to know for sure.
Prince Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
I have an Agricultural Economics class from 12:30 PM to 1:45 PM each of those days. The class itself is enjoyable enough, considering what it is. It appears it could become even better due to new faces that I've begun to converse with - a girl by the name of Ginger Waters and a fellow who called himself Jordan when I asked. Each seem like compelling people that I look forward to getting to know better.
The professor is also likable, at least in my opinion. I think he recognizes that his material for the class isn't the most entertaining, but he goes about teaching it in exuberant form. I admire his passion. The fact that he's a fellow eastern Kentuckian might grant me some bias towards him, as well.
The increasing enjoyment is only a minute part of why I enjoy the walk so much. The health benefits factor in, obviously. It's aided me in learning the ways of the city streets - when it's okay to cross when the light says stop, and when it's not. It sounds pathetic, I'm sure, to many "city folk", but the only street I ever had to cross was the one between Sheldon Clark High School and our football field. I don't even know if that's a street.
However, the greatest part of the walk is that it takes me back to the days when I would sit on the school bus in the mornings and escape into my iPod in my attempts to drown out to the obscene rants of Johnny Jones, Samantha Casto and her sister Jessica, and Vicki Williamson - the "cool kids" on my bus. My 60 gigabyte baby would get me through countless mornings; some mornings it was the only thing I woke up looking forward to and would end up being the best part of the day. This occurred often in the "Heather days".
Alas, I finally got a car passed down to me and my driver's license this past summer, and the days of riding the bus were over. So gone, too, were my AM love affairs with my current country, alternative and comedy favorites. I had a CD player and a radio, but the effect wasn't the same. I couldn't get lost in the words like I loved to before - that is, if I didn't want to crash my vehicle.
That brings us to the present. I didn't bring my Jeep with me to UK, and I'm not very partial to bikes, so walking is my primary means of transport. Walking requires far less attention, at least for me, than driving. Just as I did during my first few years of high school, I have turned to my iPod for protection against the outside world during my freshman year of college. Only this time, the hours are later and the "cool kids" are sounds of the street: cars passing by and honking absurdly, construction that cripples the commute at times, and fellow pedestrians that share the sidewalk with me.
When those headphones are in my ears, though, I'm the only man on the concrete. It's just me, my thoughts and whoever the artist or artists I've chosen to spend my time with.
Today, I spent it with Tracy Lawrence
I let "Texas Tornado" sling me back into middle school, when I first started digging into his musical repertoire. I think the feeling some people get when they first listen to The Beatles or Bob Dylan, musical legends by many accounts, is the same feeling I got when I first discovered many of the country artists I listen to so frequently today. Tracy is one of those singers. I remember thinking of Lauren Kirk back then when I listened to this; I crushed on her like a fiend for quite a while before high school. Disturbing at its worse, spectacular at its best - which was always in my mind, haha.
"The Cards" took me back to the most frightening time of my life, or at least what in retrospect is what I'd call the most frightening time - back to the "Heather days". Luckily, to a good aspect of them - all the letters we would use to write back and forth to each other. Back to cute little aliases we bestowed upon each other - Princess CrUX and Prince Batman - which I still sign my blogs with, mostly out of habit. Back to self-decorated borders with improvised images that would outdo the greatest artists of all time. Back to "I'll love you forevers" that turned out to not be the case, and it's good that that they didn't.
"If I Don't Make It Back" and "You Find Out Who Your Friends Are" propelled me into images of a hypothetical future and reflections of all my friendships that have been formed in the past few years, and hopes for the ones that are forming and will form in the years to come. I've got a good feeling about who my truest friends are. There are some I keep in very little touch with that I care more about than ones I talk to everyday. It would maybe surprise some of them to find out how important they really are in the grand scheme of things - but they're all valuable, regardless, and they all have love going their way from me.
Intertwined with these lyric-induced projections were thoughts of my own. The most notable one was a song idea - my third of the week. Lexington has ailed my creative lapse that existed back home in respect to lyric writing. I welcome it with the greatest appreciation. Expect "Sugar" to be making its way to your eyes in good time, readers.
I can't remember each song I listened to. The above is just a list of highlights, the ones that triggered the most inside of my brain.
Today was a Tracy Lawrence.
Tuesday was a Brad Paisley.
Another day was a Josh Turner with some Patton Oswalt.
Next Tuesday might be a Relient K with a dash of The Maine or Trace Adkins.
I'll have to wait until how my feet feel when they're hitting the pavement to know for sure.
Prince Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
9/01/2009
Doing Laundry Is More Fun Than You'd Think
Editing a homework assignment where your asked to name your five journalism heroes, one from each century of American history (17th to 21st centuries, for you history impaired folks) down to a one page list.
Eating dinner at Blazer Cafe' with Carrie Jude, Jessica Maynard and Devon Joiner - all familiar faces with their own degree of previous value in your life, suddenly becoming increasingly important in their own respects - while you become acquainted with Jessica's roommate Hillary, whose last name you still don't know, and Ashley, someone you just met who happened to know Hillary for some reason she couldn't recall.
Watching clips from "The Big Bang Theory" and discussing similarities and differences between Batman and Superman - in a class. For credit.
Becoming silently infatuated with the awkward girl in the class alluded to above that carries around the Batman messenger bag you used to carry around your freshman year of high school, until both corners in the bottom of it ripped. She smiled at you nervously earlier as you walked past her on your way back from your JOU 101 class - a clue, Sherlock? Heh. You joked with her about Sherlock Holmes the first time you spoke to her. Ironic.
Dropping classes with the click of a mouse because you just aren't going to wake up at 8:00 in the morning so you can listen to a tiny Korean lady speak in a disinterested tone about world politics.
Walking roughly 25 minutes to your Agricultural Economics class then 25 minutes back and enjoying every damn second of it because there's no better time to listen to your iPod than when traversing South Limestone Street by foot.
Arguing with Curtis that the University of Kentucky is better than Marshall University in every aspect, and disbelieving that he would actually bring up "We Are Marshall" as a point to prove himself correct.
Hating every second you spend in Robert Sandmeyer's logic class, but it's required by the Undergraduate Studies Program. Bleh.
Staying up until 12:39 AM and getting to sleep in on Monday and Wednesday nights because your first class isn't until 12 hours from now!
That is what college is, so far.
I'll be sure to fill you in on any changes.
Prince Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
Eating dinner at Blazer Cafe' with Carrie Jude, Jessica Maynard and Devon Joiner - all familiar faces with their own degree of previous value in your life, suddenly becoming increasingly important in their own respects - while you become acquainted with Jessica's roommate Hillary, whose last name you still don't know, and Ashley, someone you just met who happened to know Hillary for some reason she couldn't recall.
Watching clips from "The Big Bang Theory" and discussing similarities and differences between Batman and Superman - in a class. For credit.
Becoming silently infatuated with the awkward girl in the class alluded to above that carries around the Batman messenger bag you used to carry around your freshman year of high school, until both corners in the bottom of it ripped. She smiled at you nervously earlier as you walked past her on your way back from your JOU 101 class - a clue, Sherlock? Heh. You joked with her about Sherlock Holmes the first time you spoke to her. Ironic.
Dropping classes with the click of a mouse because you just aren't going to wake up at 8:00 in the morning so you can listen to a tiny Korean lady speak in a disinterested tone about world politics.
Walking roughly 25 minutes to your Agricultural Economics class then 25 minutes back and enjoying every damn second of it because there's no better time to listen to your iPod than when traversing South Limestone Street by foot.
Arguing with Curtis that the University of Kentucky is better than Marshall University in every aspect, and disbelieving that he would actually bring up "We Are Marshall" as a point to prove himself correct.
Hating every second you spend in Robert Sandmeyer's logic class, but it's required by the Undergraduate Studies Program. Bleh.
Staying up until 12:39 AM and getting to sleep in on Monday and Wednesday nights because your first class isn't until 12 hours from now!
That is what college is, so far.
I'll be sure to fill you in on any changes.
Prince Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
8/25/2009
The Lexington Experiment (Complete with John Anderson and Football!)
I'm listening to John Anderson's rendition of "Shuttin' Detroit Down", which in every way is better than John Rich's version. The two co-wrote the song together, and it made me disappointed slightly to find that on Anderson's new album a version of the song existed. Rich has saw a reasonable amount of success with his single release of the song, and I feel like Anderson could have seen just as much, if not more due to his previous efforts in the music industry. Alas, that's not how it was to be.
This is my first blog since I moved to the University of Kentucky. Things aren't too much different in Lexington than they are in Inez, except there's a whole lot more to do. I miss my pals who aren't here, but other than that it's fantastic.
I'm trying to get a job involving writing for a sports retailer. I had to do a sample assignment. I'll post it here now for anyone interested. Other than that, there's going to be nothing else discussed. Lame blog, I know, but just letting people know I'm alive.
My prompt: To talk about something interesting about any NFL team that wasn't the 49ers, Dolphins, Bears, Bengals or Vikings. Pretty self-explanatory.
My chosen team: Denver Broncos
The Denver Broncos hope is that the hiring of Josh McDaniels will rejuvenate a franchise that has only won a single playoff game since John Elway retired. They’ve rolled the dice, and it remains to be seen how much luck they have on their side.
Bad luck for an opposing team can win a few football games for whoever they are playing. Fumbles on a simple run play, wide receivers slipping seconds before a game winning touchdown reception would have been made, referees misplacing the spot of the ball - these are slight mishaps on the gridiron often classified under “rotten luck” more often than “poor skill” that many times result in a win for the team that had lady luck smiling down at them.
This “rotten luck” doesn’t make itself more apparent than when it’s in the form of an injury, especially when a star player is stricken. If LaDainian Tomlinson busts up both his ankles, the Chargers will be lucky to turn out a .500 record. Steve Smith screws up his shoulder, and suddenly the Panthers playoff hopes are shot. Tom Brady blows out his knee during the first game of the season, so now New England’s chances for redemption in the Super Bowl will have to wait until next year.
Or not.
It should not have been a surprise that the New England Patriots, a remarkable example of how an organization should be run, from the front office to the field, and arguably the greatest professional sports franchise of the past decade, would turn rotten luck into an opportunity the bottom feeders of the league would trade a series of first round draft picks for.
It was a surprise.
For Josh McDaniels and Matt Cassel, it was a surprise that took them from being the backseat drivers of a well-equipped, battle-tested football machine to the driver’s seat of different rigs rich with pigskin tradition but wrought with different respective issues. Driver’s seats that happened to have ample amounts of cash hidden underneath them.
Matt Cassel’s performance in the absence of Tom Brady was excellent, but much credit was given to offensive coordinator and quarterbacks coach Josh McDaniels for preparing the NFL bench-warmer who never even started a game during his college career for the moment he would be needed, should it ever arise. Therefore, it wasn’t a shock that McDaniels’ name was a hot one in the off-season hustle and bustle of potential head coaching offers. However, when the Denver Broncos fired long-time head coach Mike Shanahan and replaced him with McDaniels, more than a few heads turned.
Being Josh McDaniels in 2009 is going to be awfully similar to being Matt Cassel in 2008.
Cassel was just doing what he had to do, was present when the moment called for him to be there. Still, the eyes of every poor performing team’s scouts and executives were glued to the man who was doing things even Tom Brady hadn’t done before, like throw for 400 yards in a game - or doing it on consecutive weekends. He even beat Brett Favre in his first official NFL start. He had to make people forget about Brady’s three Super Bowl rings and make them look at Matt Cassel. Cassel eventually turned “rotten luck” into 6 years and $28 million guaranteed from the Kansas City Chiefs. There it will be seen how much of Cassel’s success was due to McDaniels’ offensive procedure and the players around him. Still, the franchise is rebuilding and his leash will likely be a long one.
Josh McDaniels, too, has come into a situation where a seasoned veteran is currently off-duty. While luck granted him the opportunity of a lifetime, a head coaching job in the NFL for a prolific franchise, the man who stood on the sidelines over the past 13 years where he’ll be standing won two Super Bowls and kept the team in playoff contention almost every single season. It gave him a team with excellent offensive players, his area of expertise, but also a team whose defense has been the actual point of concern over the past few years and has been sparingly addressed. It gave him Jay Cutler. It took him away and gave him Kyle Orton and Chris Simms.
Wait, that was probably more his and the front office’s doing. His confidence in Cassel back in New England was so much that he tried to bring the quarterback with him via several rumored three-team deals. As it turns out, that wasn’t an appropriate way of making a good first impression on your new team’s franchise quarterback, and Cutler’s trust issues with the team eventually did result in a trade - but not for Cassel. That may have been some bad luck.
Luck’s given him Brandon Marshall, a talented wide-receiver, but one that at times to appear to be cut from the same cloth as Terrell Owens and Chad Ochocinco in terms of diva behavior. And, just like with Cutler a few months before, trust issues have arisen and contract negotiations aren’t going as he and his agent would like them to. Luck may just take Marshall away too.
Perhaps it’s the change in altitude that’s suddenly staining Josh McDaniel’s string of success and good fortune. Maybe the Rocky Mountains are keeping lady luck’s winds from blowing in McDaniels’ direction. Whatever the reason behind the delay of fortunateness, he’d better make some magic happen sooner rather than later.
He’s going to have to turn a bottom-dwelling defense into something presentable.
He’s going to have to make Denver forget about Mike Shanahan and John Elway.
He’s going to have to force fans to pretend they didn’t trade a Pro Bowl quarterback for Kyle Orton.
A busted knee became an opportunity for Josh McDaniels to orchestrate an offense with an inexperienced quarterback, and he succeeded. However, the star he created is burning in Kansas City, Missouri, and he already burned bright enough to impress folks enough to prove he’s likely for real.
McDaniels on the other hand is likely already on a shorter leash due to the mishandling of Cutler, and it’s not going to get any longer until he proves himself in Colorado.
Even the highest eyes in Mile High Stadium will be watching his every move, searching for an instance that’ll make them backtrack and question their team’s thought process in hiring the man.
I wish Josh McDaniels the best of luck. Believe me when I say, he’s going to need a lot of it.
Leave me feedback!
Prince Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
This is my first blog since I moved to the University of Kentucky. Things aren't too much different in Lexington than they are in Inez, except there's a whole lot more to do. I miss my pals who aren't here, but other than that it's fantastic.
I'm trying to get a job involving writing for a sports retailer. I had to do a sample assignment. I'll post it here now for anyone interested. Other than that, there's going to be nothing else discussed. Lame blog, I know, but just letting people know I'm alive.
My prompt: To talk about something interesting about any NFL team that wasn't the 49ers, Dolphins, Bears, Bengals or Vikings. Pretty self-explanatory.
My chosen team: Denver Broncos
The Denver Broncos hope is that the hiring of Josh McDaniels will rejuvenate a franchise that has only won a single playoff game since John Elway retired. They’ve rolled the dice, and it remains to be seen how much luck they have on their side.
Bad luck for an opposing team can win a few football games for whoever they are playing. Fumbles on a simple run play, wide receivers slipping seconds before a game winning touchdown reception would have been made, referees misplacing the spot of the ball - these are slight mishaps on the gridiron often classified under “rotten luck” more often than “poor skill” that many times result in a win for the team that had lady luck smiling down at them.
This “rotten luck” doesn’t make itself more apparent than when it’s in the form of an injury, especially when a star player is stricken. If LaDainian Tomlinson busts up both his ankles, the Chargers will be lucky to turn out a .500 record. Steve Smith screws up his shoulder, and suddenly the Panthers playoff hopes are shot. Tom Brady blows out his knee during the first game of the season, so now New England’s chances for redemption in the Super Bowl will have to wait until next year.
Or not.
It should not have been a surprise that the New England Patriots, a remarkable example of how an organization should be run, from the front office to the field, and arguably the greatest professional sports franchise of the past decade, would turn rotten luck into an opportunity the bottom feeders of the league would trade a series of first round draft picks for.
It was a surprise.
For Josh McDaniels and Matt Cassel, it was a surprise that took them from being the backseat drivers of a well-equipped, battle-tested football machine to the driver’s seat of different rigs rich with pigskin tradition but wrought with different respective issues. Driver’s seats that happened to have ample amounts of cash hidden underneath them.
Matt Cassel’s performance in the absence of Tom Brady was excellent, but much credit was given to offensive coordinator and quarterbacks coach Josh McDaniels for preparing the NFL bench-warmer who never even started a game during his college career for the moment he would be needed, should it ever arise. Therefore, it wasn’t a shock that McDaniels’ name was a hot one in the off-season hustle and bustle of potential head coaching offers. However, when the Denver Broncos fired long-time head coach Mike Shanahan and replaced him with McDaniels, more than a few heads turned.
Being Josh McDaniels in 2009 is going to be awfully similar to being Matt Cassel in 2008.
Cassel was just doing what he had to do, was present when the moment called for him to be there. Still, the eyes of every poor performing team’s scouts and executives were glued to the man who was doing things even Tom Brady hadn’t done before, like throw for 400 yards in a game - or doing it on consecutive weekends. He even beat Brett Favre in his first official NFL start. He had to make people forget about Brady’s three Super Bowl rings and make them look at Matt Cassel. Cassel eventually turned “rotten luck” into 6 years and $28 million guaranteed from the Kansas City Chiefs. There it will be seen how much of Cassel’s success was due to McDaniels’ offensive procedure and the players around him. Still, the franchise is rebuilding and his leash will likely be a long one.
Josh McDaniels, too, has come into a situation where a seasoned veteran is currently off-duty. While luck granted him the opportunity of a lifetime, a head coaching job in the NFL for a prolific franchise, the man who stood on the sidelines over the past 13 years where he’ll be standing won two Super Bowls and kept the team in playoff contention almost every single season. It gave him a team with excellent offensive players, his area of expertise, but also a team whose defense has been the actual point of concern over the past few years and has been sparingly addressed. It gave him Jay Cutler. It took him away and gave him Kyle Orton and Chris Simms.
Wait, that was probably more his and the front office’s doing. His confidence in Cassel back in New England was so much that he tried to bring the quarterback with him via several rumored three-team deals. As it turns out, that wasn’t an appropriate way of making a good first impression on your new team’s franchise quarterback, and Cutler’s trust issues with the team eventually did result in a trade - but not for Cassel. That may have been some bad luck.
Luck’s given him Brandon Marshall, a talented wide-receiver, but one that at times to appear to be cut from the same cloth as Terrell Owens and Chad Ochocinco in terms of diva behavior. And, just like with Cutler a few months before, trust issues have arisen and contract negotiations aren’t going as he and his agent would like them to. Luck may just take Marshall away too.
Perhaps it’s the change in altitude that’s suddenly staining Josh McDaniel’s string of success and good fortune. Maybe the Rocky Mountains are keeping lady luck’s winds from blowing in McDaniels’ direction. Whatever the reason behind the delay of fortunateness, he’d better make some magic happen sooner rather than later.
He’s going to have to turn a bottom-dwelling defense into something presentable.
He’s going to have to make Denver forget about Mike Shanahan and John Elway.
He’s going to have to force fans to pretend they didn’t trade a Pro Bowl quarterback for Kyle Orton.
A busted knee became an opportunity for Josh McDaniels to orchestrate an offense with an inexperienced quarterback, and he succeeded. However, the star he created is burning in Kansas City, Missouri, and he already burned bright enough to impress folks enough to prove he’s likely for real.
McDaniels on the other hand is likely already on a shorter leash due to the mishandling of Cutler, and it’s not going to get any longer until he proves himself in Colorado.
Even the highest eyes in Mile High Stadium will be watching his every move, searching for an instance that’ll make them backtrack and question their team’s thought process in hiring the man.
I wish Josh McDaniels the best of luck. Believe me when I say, he’s going to need a lot of it.
Leave me feedback!
Prince Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
8/19/2009
Starstruck
According to an old horoscope book found by Speedy in his mom's auction contents, my sign (Scorpio) is a compassionate, determined one that oozes with creativity and frequently adorns blue and white clothing. Perhaps, then, my going to the University of Kentucky was predestined. However, if my life truly is the result of some preordained plan of an astrological star sign, then not only can I blame it for my college choice, but also the adoration I possess for a certain Pisces in my life. According to the stars, scorpion + fish = eternal pleasure and happiness for both parties involved. Of course, this is coming from the same set of principles that allow a dwarf planet to rule my astrological sign. Oh, the irony.
So, here I sit in the first UK shirt I remember ever wearing, one I've had for about five years now, and a pair of blue and white ball shorts that I stole from my sister Krystle, who probably stole them from somebody else. An air conditioner blows out cold air to my left, sitting in its path three of my best friends. Speedy, Curtis and Heath.
Speedy's playing the Playstation 3 demo of Batman: Arkham Asylum. Curtis is essentially playing the part of the gay friend to some girl in Ohio. Heath is exhausted, attempting to sleep on the couch that for three weeks served as my bed.
All three of them are indulging themselves in different pleasures, in their own ways subconsciously avoiding the reason we all came together in the first place - this is the final day we'll all be able to spend with each other before college life begins to take us over.
I'm leaving Thursday for Huntington. From there I'll travel to Lexington on Friday.
Curtis will be leaving for Marshall Friday afternoon.
Speedy will be moving into his dorm at Berea next Saturday.
Heath will remain in Martin County, traveling to BSCTS's Prestonburg Campus on Tuesdays and Thursdays and detailing cars each other day of the work week.
Separated. That's not how it was supposed to be, was it?
Heath Wilson and I were supposed to be neighbors forever. We were going to hang out in that lane together into our late teen years until high school was over. That road has heard a lot - everything from tales of heartache to Yu-Gi-Oh victory cries - and it was supposed to hear a whole lot more.
I moved. It didn't. Heath and I remained strong friends regardless. I like to think we'll always be able to remember the times we spent playing with trading cards in the middle of the road, discussing our latest scheme to obtain the girl we'd never obtain in our wildest dreams. If not, at least the pavement will always be stamped with our souls.
Inez kids and Warfield kids weren't supposed to become friends. Curtis Goble wasn't supposed to do anything but trip me in defense of one of his Inez brethren during an altercation our freshman year. Maroon and orange would never go good together.
Through line judging for the girl's volleyball team, academic trips where I'd make him feel uncomfortable by singing cheating songs, and McDonald's conversations that went deeper than any discussion taking place over Big Macs should, Curtis and I persevered and created a bond that eventually culminated in me moving in with him in a time of crisis. Maroon and orange can clash at times, but I've never given a damn about matching anyway.
Chris Anderson was some kid everyone made fun of in middle school. Gay, faggot, retard - a kid subject to every damn demeaning comment that an unimaginative 13-year old can generate in his puberty stricken mind. He wasn't supposed to have friends.
A kid who gave me a rose for being his best friend at our high school baccalaureate three months ago. I'm proud to say tears rushed to my eyes at that moment, right before I got up and hugged one of my best friends.
All kinds of things were supposed to happen, supposed to last forever or supposed to just be true.
My mom and dad were supposed to stay together until death do them part. So were many other of my friend's parents. We all were supposed to live lives where mommy and daddy love each other forever.
Only two of my best friends have parents who have so far remained together all of their life.
I was supposed to grow up and spend the rest of my life with Heather Workman. The foolish teenage heart often disguises inadequacy with beauty and more beauty. Inadequate she was, but my heart was in full throttle for her every foolish second.
She left me because I was born with the wrong set of reproductive organs.
All kinds of things were supposed to happen, supposed to last forever or supposed to just be true.
Mommy, I have no doubt in my mind that you leaving daddy was the best decision of your life. Shawn seems like a great man and has shown me kindness that I rarely experienced from my own father, but more importantly appears to love you like you deserved to be loved. You've done too much for me, Brittany and Krystle, and I'll speak for all of us when I say that we could never be able to return the favor. I love you.
Curtis, Speedy, Heath, Corey, Carrie, Jamie, C.J., Cameron, Byron, Ricky, Gauze - each of you deserve a blog of your own, seriously. The friendship you've shown me over the years is too much of the reason why I am who I am today. Although most of you I've known only for a handful of years, and as cliché as it is, a man has never known better people. It is for each of you that I keep going on, in the hopes that I can somehow make the world a better place for you, as you each have for me. I love every one of you as much as I would a brother or sister.
Separated. That is how it was supposed to be. From the very beginning, it's the only thing that was certain, despite if we wanted to admit it or not.
Each of us will be better for it, too. We'll go away to college, whether it's in Lexington, Prestonsburg or Tokyo, and we'll love every second of it. Any changes we overtake will be only beneficial to our future lives.
The stars are aligning for something magnificent. How do I know?
That's how it was supposed to be.
Prince Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
So, here I sit in the first UK shirt I remember ever wearing, one I've had for about five years now, and a pair of blue and white ball shorts that I stole from my sister Krystle, who probably stole them from somebody else. An air conditioner blows out cold air to my left, sitting in its path three of my best friends. Speedy, Curtis and Heath.
Speedy's playing the Playstation 3 demo of Batman: Arkham Asylum. Curtis is essentially playing the part of the gay friend to some girl in Ohio. Heath is exhausted, attempting to sleep on the couch that for three weeks served as my bed.
All three of them are indulging themselves in different pleasures, in their own ways subconsciously avoiding the reason we all came together in the first place - this is the final day we'll all be able to spend with each other before college life begins to take us over.
I'm leaving Thursday for Huntington. From there I'll travel to Lexington on Friday.
Curtis will be leaving for Marshall Friday afternoon.
Speedy will be moving into his dorm at Berea next Saturday.
Heath will remain in Martin County, traveling to BSCTS's Prestonburg Campus on Tuesdays and Thursdays and detailing cars each other day of the work week.
Separated. That's not how it was supposed to be, was it?
Heath Wilson and I were supposed to be neighbors forever. We were going to hang out in that lane together into our late teen years until high school was over. That road has heard a lot - everything from tales of heartache to Yu-Gi-Oh victory cries - and it was supposed to hear a whole lot more.
I moved. It didn't. Heath and I remained strong friends regardless. I like to think we'll always be able to remember the times we spent playing with trading cards in the middle of the road, discussing our latest scheme to obtain the girl we'd never obtain in our wildest dreams. If not, at least the pavement will always be stamped with our souls.
Inez kids and Warfield kids weren't supposed to become friends. Curtis Goble wasn't supposed to do anything but trip me in defense of one of his Inez brethren during an altercation our freshman year. Maroon and orange would never go good together.
Through line judging for the girl's volleyball team, academic trips where I'd make him feel uncomfortable by singing cheating songs, and McDonald's conversations that went deeper than any discussion taking place over Big Macs should, Curtis and I persevered and created a bond that eventually culminated in me moving in with him in a time of crisis. Maroon and orange can clash at times, but I've never given a damn about matching anyway.
Chris Anderson was some kid everyone made fun of in middle school. Gay, faggot, retard - a kid subject to every damn demeaning comment that an unimaginative 13-year old can generate in his puberty stricken mind. He wasn't supposed to have friends.
A kid who gave me a rose for being his best friend at our high school baccalaureate three months ago. I'm proud to say tears rushed to my eyes at that moment, right before I got up and hugged one of my best friends.
All kinds of things were supposed to happen, supposed to last forever or supposed to just be true.
My mom and dad were supposed to stay together until death do them part. So were many other of my friend's parents. We all were supposed to live lives where mommy and daddy love each other forever.
Only two of my best friends have parents who have so far remained together all of their life.
I was supposed to grow up and spend the rest of my life with Heather Workman. The foolish teenage heart often disguises inadequacy with beauty and more beauty. Inadequate she was, but my heart was in full throttle for her every foolish second.
She left me because I was born with the wrong set of reproductive organs.
All kinds of things were supposed to happen, supposed to last forever or supposed to just be true.
Mommy, I have no doubt in my mind that you leaving daddy was the best decision of your life. Shawn seems like a great man and has shown me kindness that I rarely experienced from my own father, but more importantly appears to love you like you deserved to be loved. You've done too much for me, Brittany and Krystle, and I'll speak for all of us when I say that we could never be able to return the favor. I love you.
Curtis, Speedy, Heath, Corey, Carrie, Jamie, C.J., Cameron, Byron, Ricky, Gauze - each of you deserve a blog of your own, seriously. The friendship you've shown me over the years is too much of the reason why I am who I am today. Although most of you I've known only for a handful of years, and as cliché as it is, a man has never known better people. It is for each of you that I keep going on, in the hopes that I can somehow make the world a better place for you, as you each have for me. I love every one of you as much as I would a brother or sister.
Separated. That is how it was supposed to be. From the very beginning, it's the only thing that was certain, despite if we wanted to admit it or not.
Each of us will be better for it, too. We'll go away to college, whether it's in Lexington, Prestonsburg or Tokyo, and we'll love every second of it. Any changes we overtake will be only beneficial to our future lives.
The stars are aligning for something magnificent. How do I know?
That's how it was supposed to be.
Prince Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
8/16/2009
From Girlfriends to God
When I was younger, I always dreaded it when my family would go camping. I loathed the idea of pitching a tent and "roughing it" for a night or two. I find it remarkable, looking back, that as an 18 year-old one of the fondest memories I'll possess of my final summer before college will be a camping trip.
Curtis Goble, Carrie Jude, Jamie Duty, C.J. Adams, Heath Wilson, Cameron Allen and Byron Meade. Those are the seven people I spent a night with at Yatesville Lake. All together, a combination of folks who very well represent the massive personality differences that can exist amongst an entire group of people who love each other dearly.
The party began at Wal-Mart thirty minutes before any of us laid eyes on the campsite aside from Byron, who went to survey and such earlier in the day and was waiting there for us. We were going to be camping the entire night. Therefore, we were justified in spending nearly 80 bucks on pillows, Mountain Dew, towels, hot dogs and buns, potato chips, marshmallows, chocolate, graham crackers, two bags of ice, a case of Sam's Choice water and mustard. Oh, and Cheez-its. Because if there aren't Cheez-its around, you aren't really camping, are ya?
We checked out, amid discussion between Duty and Cameron about whether the girl at the cash register was a 3 or a 4, both settling on 4 after a while. After paying, we loaded up the cars and set off for the campground.
The half a mile walk to the camp site felt longer each time I walked it, and I believe this feeling was consensual among all of us. Especially C.J., Heath, Byron and I, who around 2:30 AM would have to pack 50 lb stumps because we wanted to keep the fire burning into the post midnight hours out of want of heat and fear of bears. Those stumps may or may not have stolen from various other campsites
After pitching three of the seven tents available to us at the time (Curtis and I informed we were bringing three and that would be plenty. Some others apparently thought not), everyone except Byron jumped into the lake and swam across to the other side, doing a fine job of dodging any hazards that could have been in the water. You know, sharks and snakes and stuff. Legitimate concerns. C.J. found a log for Curtis and I to ride back to the other side on (due to a desire to relive the "It Got Sanked" day), and nobody ever got back in the water for the rest of the trip. Fishing was done in large amount, though, and absolutely none were cooked. *wink*
We played cornhole for a couple of hours. It was the first time I'd ever played while score was actually being kept. It took me a while to understand how it worked, but it made sense after I got a few rounds in. Curtis was my partner, and while we pretty much stunk it up the entire time, each game we played was exciting, all but one coming down to a point or two. What we lacked in skill (which Team Carrie/C.J. and Team Heath/Byron had plenties of) we made up for with competitive spirit and determination. And luck. Lots of it.
A hike was taken on the "haunted trail", which was really just a badly lit trail that didn't get any brighter with night's beginning. There was a "Blair Witch Project" quality about that whole experience, probably due mostly to the fact that Heath was recording parts of the hike and referencing the movie. Torches made out of Mountain Dew cans, a product of Jamie Duty's amazing ingenuity, lit the way (along with some flashlights) and allowed us some morsels of sight. The entire experience, with flaming shirts, flaming hair and flaming curse words abound, will be on YouTube in due time.
It was a little after the hike that we went scavenging for firewood. Myself and the others I alluded to earlier hopped into C.J.'s car and assisted in "gathering" fire wood that had been abandoned by people. We contemplated sneaking into the place where the park managers actually cut and store the wood they sell, but we decided against it once we found three stump-sized pieces of wood, each weighing over 50 pounds. For an out of shape guy who weighs as much as five of those stumps would have weighed, that was enough heavy lifting to do on a half a mile walk. I even took my shirt off for the occasion.
Carrie left for home soon after that, unable to spend the night with us. What followed next were several hours of man talk. I won't go into the details of what was specifically stated by which person, as I am of the belief that after true, pure love between two people, man talk is the most sacred object in existence, and the code of man forbids me to break its trust. I will say that many topics were touched, from the past to the future, from misfortune to opportunity, from girlfriends to God - very few stones were unturned that night. It was spectacular.
After someone heard growling in the woods, or claimed so anyway, man talk was over and it was time to act like men. We set up a perimeter wire using our abundance of Mountain Dew cans and kept the fire going with anything we had left - pillows, towels, potato chip bags - pretty much everything we'd bought earlier. But, what's $80 if it can't be burned to keep your face from being mauled by a hungry bear. Or squirrel.
Our fears settled and we drifted into slumber soon after. We awoke the next morning without much being said. It would be the last time some of us would see each other for a while, possibly forever. Yet, no sad feelings saturated the entire experience. It was just like we were back in A.P. English or A.P. Chemistry, joking around every minute and having a blast. Even when we revealed our introspective sides the night never felt depressing. Tender, perhaps, but never a downer.
Nope, we left with not much exchanged in the form of words but with a lot shared in the form of memory. The 7:30 AM sun shined bright on us that Friday morning as we each set out in our own directions, as everyone watched each other leave one last time.
Each direction was different, and will be for the rest of our lives. However, there's much to be said about a group of friends that can make a guy who used to hate camping long for another night like that. The direction I take has been painted with the memories that the guys I spent that night with and others have helped me make. I hope I have stained their paths just as much.
Prince Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
Quote of the Day
"Laugh as much as you breathe and love as long you live." --- Author Unknown.
Curtis Goble, Carrie Jude, Jamie Duty, C.J. Adams, Heath Wilson, Cameron Allen and Byron Meade. Those are the seven people I spent a night with at Yatesville Lake. All together, a combination of folks who very well represent the massive personality differences that can exist amongst an entire group of people who love each other dearly.
The party began at Wal-Mart thirty minutes before any of us laid eyes on the campsite aside from Byron, who went to survey and such earlier in the day and was waiting there for us. We were going to be camping the entire night. Therefore, we were justified in spending nearly 80 bucks on pillows, Mountain Dew, towels, hot dogs and buns, potato chips, marshmallows, chocolate, graham crackers, two bags of ice, a case of Sam's Choice water and mustard. Oh, and Cheez-its. Because if there aren't Cheez-its around, you aren't really camping, are ya?
We checked out, amid discussion between Duty and Cameron about whether the girl at the cash register was a 3 or a 4, both settling on 4 after a while. After paying, we loaded up the cars and set off for the campground.
The half a mile walk to the camp site felt longer each time I walked it, and I believe this feeling was consensual among all of us. Especially C.J., Heath, Byron and I, who around 2:30 AM would have to pack 50 lb stumps because we wanted to keep the fire burning into the post midnight hours out of want of heat and fear of bears. Those stumps may or may not have stolen from various other campsites
After pitching three of the seven tents available to us at the time (Curtis and I informed we were bringing three and that would be plenty. Some others apparently thought not), everyone except Byron jumped into the lake and swam across to the other side, doing a fine job of dodging any hazards that could have been in the water. You know, sharks and snakes and stuff. Legitimate concerns. C.J. found a log for Curtis and I to ride back to the other side on (due to a desire to relive the "It Got Sanked" day), and nobody ever got back in the water for the rest of the trip. Fishing was done in large amount, though, and absolutely none were cooked. *wink*
We played cornhole for a couple of hours. It was the first time I'd ever played while score was actually being kept. It took me a while to understand how it worked, but it made sense after I got a few rounds in. Curtis was my partner, and while we pretty much stunk it up the entire time, each game we played was exciting, all but one coming down to a point or two. What we lacked in skill (which Team Carrie/C.J. and Team Heath/Byron had plenties of) we made up for with competitive spirit and determination. And luck. Lots of it.
A hike was taken on the "haunted trail", which was really just a badly lit trail that didn't get any brighter with night's beginning. There was a "Blair Witch Project" quality about that whole experience, probably due mostly to the fact that Heath was recording parts of the hike and referencing the movie. Torches made out of Mountain Dew cans, a product of Jamie Duty's amazing ingenuity, lit the way (along with some flashlights) and allowed us some morsels of sight. The entire experience, with flaming shirts, flaming hair and flaming curse words abound, will be on YouTube in due time.
It was a little after the hike that we went scavenging for firewood. Myself and the others I alluded to earlier hopped into C.J.'s car and assisted in "gathering" fire wood that had been abandoned by people. We contemplated sneaking into the place where the park managers actually cut and store the wood they sell, but we decided against it once we found three stump-sized pieces of wood, each weighing over 50 pounds. For an out of shape guy who weighs as much as five of those stumps would have weighed, that was enough heavy lifting to do on a half a mile walk. I even took my shirt off for the occasion.
Carrie left for home soon after that, unable to spend the night with us. What followed next were several hours of man talk. I won't go into the details of what was specifically stated by which person, as I am of the belief that after true, pure love between two people, man talk is the most sacred object in existence, and the code of man forbids me to break its trust. I will say that many topics were touched, from the past to the future, from misfortune to opportunity, from girlfriends to God - very few stones were unturned that night. It was spectacular.
After someone heard growling in the woods, or claimed so anyway, man talk was over and it was time to act like men. We set up a perimeter wire using our abundance of Mountain Dew cans and kept the fire going with anything we had left - pillows, towels, potato chip bags - pretty much everything we'd bought earlier. But, what's $80 if it can't be burned to keep your face from being mauled by a hungry bear. Or squirrel.
Our fears settled and we drifted into slumber soon after. We awoke the next morning without much being said. It would be the last time some of us would see each other for a while, possibly forever. Yet, no sad feelings saturated the entire experience. It was just like we were back in A.P. English or A.P. Chemistry, joking around every minute and having a blast. Even when we revealed our introspective sides the night never felt depressing. Tender, perhaps, but never a downer.
Nope, we left with not much exchanged in the form of words but with a lot shared in the form of memory. The 7:30 AM sun shined bright on us that Friday morning as we each set out in our own directions, as everyone watched each other leave one last time.
Each direction was different, and will be for the rest of our lives. However, there's much to be said about a group of friends that can make a guy who used to hate camping long for another night like that. The direction I take has been painted with the memories that the guys I spent that night with and others have helped me make. I hope I have stained their paths just as much.
Prince Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
Quote of the Day
"Laugh as much as you breathe and love as long you live." --- Author Unknown.
8/13/2009
An Epic Conversation
Read the photo from the bottom up:
An excerpt from the epic conversation.
An epic conversation took place today. The kind of conversation that you'll look back on 10 years from now and wander why the hell it occurred, yet laugh the entire time you're recalling it.
An epic conversation took place today. The kind of conversation that generated tons of laughter, morsels of horror and at least 20 genuine "WTF"s.
An epic conversation took place today. The kind of conversation that makes you wonder if your MySpace account was frozen after it took place.
An epic conversartion took place today. The kind of conversation that resulted in a sexual heavy story involving a friend of yours and his ex-girlfriend being leaked to the majority of his friend's list.
An epic conversation took place today. The kind of conversation that involved direct communication with a guy sitting next to you, a lesbian from Debord, a guy getting his wisdom teeth getting cut out the next morning, someone you once watched horde grapes into his mouth until his cheeks turned blood red, some chick you've never heard of, and a chain-smoking, beer guzzlin' cat from Magoffin County living with the grape-kid.
An epic conversartion took place today. The kind of conversation that is going to piss off hordes of folks who received the messages "indirectly".
An epic conversation took place today. The kind of conversation you're always going to remember, even if some parts of it are probably best forgotten.
Prince Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
Quote of the Day
"dude, mass reply to all was the greatest thing ever invented by myspace.
FUCK YEAH TOM, LEMME TALK TO ALL MY FRIENDS AT ONCE.
THIS IS LIKE SHITTING WHILE ON FIRE!!!
CRUISE CONTROL FOR COOLS.
btw, some dead guy is trying to sell me oxi clean on tv.
TRIPPIN' BALLS." --- Cameron Allen
P.S. Here's one more piece of the epic conversation (again read from the bottom up)!
An excerpt from the epic conversation.
An epic conversation took place today. The kind of conversation that you'll look back on 10 years from now and wander why the hell it occurred, yet laugh the entire time you're recalling it.
An epic conversation took place today. The kind of conversation that generated tons of laughter, morsels of horror and at least 20 genuine "WTF"s.
An epic conversation took place today. The kind of conversation that makes you wonder if your MySpace account was frozen after it took place.
An epic conversartion took place today. The kind of conversation that resulted in a sexual heavy story involving a friend of yours and his ex-girlfriend being leaked to the majority of his friend's list.
An epic conversation took place today. The kind of conversation that involved direct communication with a guy sitting next to you, a lesbian from Debord, a guy getting his wisdom teeth getting cut out the next morning, someone you once watched horde grapes into his mouth until his cheeks turned blood red, some chick you've never heard of, and a chain-smoking, beer guzzlin' cat from Magoffin County living with the grape-kid.
An epic conversartion took place today. The kind of conversation that is going to piss off hordes of folks who received the messages "indirectly".
An epic conversation took place today. The kind of conversation you're always going to remember, even if some parts of it are probably best forgotten.
Prince Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
Quote of the Day
"dude, mass reply to all was the greatest thing ever invented by myspace.
FUCK YEAH TOM, LEMME TALK TO ALL MY FRIENDS AT ONCE.
THIS IS LIKE SHITTING WHILE ON FIRE!!!
CRUISE CONTROL FOR COOLS.
btw, some dead guy is trying to sell me oxi clean on tv.
TRIPPIN' BALLS." --- Cameron Allen
P.S. Here's one more piece of the epic conversation (again read from the bottom up)!
8/10/2009
Thursday, Part 3
Out of the truck stepped out the woman who had been in my bed, Stephanie (last name unknown) and my dad, who wasn’t going to let us leave until he checked something. I already knew what he was seeking: whether or not the safe that had been “hidden” underneath some clothes in my room was still in its same position. I knew it wasn’t. Krystle had gone and retrieved it right before they left. However, I wasn’t sure if it was in the storage unit or had gone home with my mom to Huntington.
Of course, he didn’t find it, nor did he find a “voice recorder”, which he claimed he had hidden on top of one of the kitchen shelves in order to record everything that happened in the house in case he ever needed to use it in court (stuff like me and Brittany arguing, he and I arguing, etc). Nobody aside from him had heard of this mystery machine.
“Oh yes. I took something I’ve never seen or heard of in my life. I must be a pretty damn crafty thief to pull off something like that,” I joked.
He disregarded the voice recorder disappearance and mainly focused on the safe’s absence. He refused to let us go until the safe was back at the house. I told him I didn’t know where it was, which was an entirely honest statement because I didn’t know exactly where it ended up. Therefore, Curtis, Devin, Speedy and myself effectively became hostages in my own home. A home that at one time or another each one of them has been as much a part of as I have. Talk about insanity. Heath left to get back to his house due to a curfew set by his parents minutes before my dad arrived, or he too would have became a POM – Prisoner of Moore.
With little room for error if we were to squeeze between the fence and the truck’s parked position, and no chance of my dad letting us go due to his stubbornness, we all did what we were best at doing:
Devin: He mainly just stood around and observed the whole situation, taking it all in as it came without much said. He was pretty calm about the whole ordeal, which I was happy about.
Curtis: He made a phone call to his mom but quickly got cut off due to the terrible cell phone reception at my house. I called her back and aimed to calm her, as she was worried about my dad having a gun, which to my knowledge, he didn’t. I instructed her to call the county police. Curtis then proceeded to call his uncle Chris, whom he eventually called off when the police arrived.
Speedy: He sat out in the car for a while and joined the group later on after things calmed down a bit, but obviously stressed to the max. Later her would claim his nerves couldn’t handle the gravity of the situation. I felt bad for putting him through it, but he stayed strong enough to get by.
Myself: Between talking to Curtis’s mom and phoning my own (informing her of the situation and asking her where the safe exactly was – it was at the storage unit), I also got into a heated argument with that Stephanie chick. The best part was when I first started speaking to her:
- “What’s your name?” I asked when she went inside the house as I stood with my face pressed against the screen of the living room window.
“Stephanie,” she said.
“FUCK YOU!” I shouted. Take my word, it made so much sense at the time to say, given the circumstances. It really, really did.
“What? Oh my god, I can’t believe you’d talk to me like that. I wish your mommy were here. She loves me and wouldn’t believe you’re talking to me that way.”
“Yea, I wish she was too so she’d see what kind of skanks are running around here. She hates you, so don’t even try to talk bullshit like that.”
“Ah hell, I’d whip your mom’s ass. I ain’t like that bitch Rhonda. I ain’t afraid to punch her in the face.”
After this point, the remainder of the conversation escapes my memory. Most likely due to the fact that it took an obscure turn most likely wrought by some bad stuff in her system. That, or she’s a true idiot. I’m not sure which a person should prefer.
Another fun exchange that I can’t recall word for word involved her trying to defend herself as a non-drug user by saying she had kids to take care of. I countered by saying something along the lines of “Well, if you care about your kids, why the fuck was you in my bed this morning? Shouldn’t you have been home with them?” Her mouth trudged past her mind and went into details such as “I have been with them all day and I came with your dad so he’d have someone to go to the hospital with him!”
I realized arguing with her was a cause better suited for a monkey than a man, so I pretty much just paced around the house waiting for the police to arrive, ignoring her the remainder of the night. During that time, my dad called the KY State police and filed a theft report. They never showed. I knew they wouldn’t. I have a decent idea of how the law works, and my suspicions about whether or not the safe had been “stolen” were proved correct later when Evan Norris showed up to save the day.
I want it to be known that through all of my experiences with policeman, and there have been several (anywhere from when the time I wrecked to the time my dad was burning all his clothes in front of the house), never have I felt like so much was accomplished, as was the case with this visit. As far as I’m concerned, Evan Norris is the most respectable man in uniform in all of Martin County. If every cop were as admirable as he appeared that night, the world would be a much grander place.
Essentially, it went down like this. He told my dad that since they are married still (he and my mom), anything his is half hers, so she couldn’t have technically stolen the safe (this is what I myself believed, as I alluded to earlier). He asked me about the whole situation and why what was going on was going on, and I informed him of the entire day’s events. He reiterated to me what he’d told my dad, and assured me that we’d be able to leave soon, confirming that I was 18 and actually able to leave without my dad’s consent.
My favorite part of the entire evening was when it was brought to everyone’s attention via Evan that Stephanie had more than the legal amount of Xanax in her system, as he could tell by her eyes (I told ya I could tell, didn’t I)! He administered a drug test to her, which surprised all of us when she passed, and instructed her to remain at home due to her appearance. Finally, he forced my dad to move his vehicle so we could leave the scene.
I went and got the safe out of the storage unit and brought it back to him, mainly for good karma. I figure I could do something somewhat nice for the man since after that I was prepared to never see him again, at least for a while anyway. Curtis and I parked at the very end of the driveway and walked the safe to him, then retreated.
“There better not be anything missing.”
At this hour (2:53 AM EST), approximately one week and 4 days since that night occurred, that is still the last full sentence I’ve heard my dad utter. He mumbled some stuff as Curtis and I hurried back to my Jeep, but nothing clearly audible.
I fell asleep that morning on the couch in one of his living room’s that has since become my permanent bed for the summer’s remainder, not reconsidering once my decision to move out on a whim, but only of the extreme kindness that I have been given. There are people without a single worthwhile friend. I have countless people to rely on, as illustrated by all the help I was granted without any questions raised.
Devin could have easily demanded to be taken home – but he didn’t. Speedy could have worried himself to death and eventually cracked and have a nervous breakdown – but he didn’t. Heath tried his hardest to stay longer, even lying to his parents in order to remain, but his efforts were well appreciated. Curtis even tried to call someone to come kick my dad’s ass – those are what real friends are, to those of you who have none. If you can find just one person like any of these guys, you’re bound to do fine in life. I’m too lucky.
I’d also like to take this opportunity to restate how appreciative I am to the Goble family for taking me in during the last month of summer. Curtis obviously doesn’t mind, but I know it makes things at least slightly more difficult on Carla, Danesha, Machelle and Gamble having me around the house. The girls are like sisters to me and Gamble like another mother (among the many I can claim – you can never have too many, though). They too, are too kind.
Devin was right – this certainly made one hell of a blog entry. But, it was something much more special. What started as a trip to buy comics and Yu-Gi-Oh! Cards turned into something much more eventful. I’m thankful for every morsel of it, however. After all, I made an unforgettable memory with some of my greatest friends during the final summer that we would all spend together before we ventured off to college. We turned what appears on the surface to be a tragic experience into something twenty years from now we’ll be telling our kids about and laughing with each recollection.
That’s what life is all about, folks – being with the people you care about and making memories that will last a lifetime. Making them is always the best part, but if they’re looked back on as they should be, as experiences that made you better for having them, then it’s nearly just as sweet.
Prince Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
Quote of the Day
"Truly great friends are hard to find, difficult to leave, and impossible to forget." --- G. Randolf
Of course, he didn’t find it, nor did he find a “voice recorder”, which he claimed he had hidden on top of one of the kitchen shelves in order to record everything that happened in the house in case he ever needed to use it in court (stuff like me and Brittany arguing, he and I arguing, etc). Nobody aside from him had heard of this mystery machine.
“Oh yes. I took something I’ve never seen or heard of in my life. I must be a pretty damn crafty thief to pull off something like that,” I joked.
He disregarded the voice recorder disappearance and mainly focused on the safe’s absence. He refused to let us go until the safe was back at the house. I told him I didn’t know where it was, which was an entirely honest statement because I didn’t know exactly where it ended up. Therefore, Curtis, Devin, Speedy and myself effectively became hostages in my own home. A home that at one time or another each one of them has been as much a part of as I have. Talk about insanity. Heath left to get back to his house due to a curfew set by his parents minutes before my dad arrived, or he too would have became a POM – Prisoner of Moore.
With little room for error if we were to squeeze between the fence and the truck’s parked position, and no chance of my dad letting us go due to his stubbornness, we all did what we were best at doing:
Devin: He mainly just stood around and observed the whole situation, taking it all in as it came without much said. He was pretty calm about the whole ordeal, which I was happy about.
Curtis: He made a phone call to his mom but quickly got cut off due to the terrible cell phone reception at my house. I called her back and aimed to calm her, as she was worried about my dad having a gun, which to my knowledge, he didn’t. I instructed her to call the county police. Curtis then proceeded to call his uncle Chris, whom he eventually called off when the police arrived.
Speedy: He sat out in the car for a while and joined the group later on after things calmed down a bit, but obviously stressed to the max. Later her would claim his nerves couldn’t handle the gravity of the situation. I felt bad for putting him through it, but he stayed strong enough to get by.
Myself: Between talking to Curtis’s mom and phoning my own (informing her of the situation and asking her where the safe exactly was – it was at the storage unit), I also got into a heated argument with that Stephanie chick. The best part was when I first started speaking to her:
- “What’s your name?” I asked when she went inside the house as I stood with my face pressed against the screen of the living room window.
“Stephanie,” she said.
“FUCK YOU!” I shouted. Take my word, it made so much sense at the time to say, given the circumstances. It really, really did.
“What? Oh my god, I can’t believe you’d talk to me like that. I wish your mommy were here. She loves me and wouldn’t believe you’re talking to me that way.”
“Yea, I wish she was too so she’d see what kind of skanks are running around here. She hates you, so don’t even try to talk bullshit like that.”
“Ah hell, I’d whip your mom’s ass. I ain’t like that bitch Rhonda. I ain’t afraid to punch her in the face.”
After this point, the remainder of the conversation escapes my memory. Most likely due to the fact that it took an obscure turn most likely wrought by some bad stuff in her system. That, or she’s a true idiot. I’m not sure which a person should prefer.
Another fun exchange that I can’t recall word for word involved her trying to defend herself as a non-drug user by saying she had kids to take care of. I countered by saying something along the lines of “Well, if you care about your kids, why the fuck was you in my bed this morning? Shouldn’t you have been home with them?” Her mouth trudged past her mind and went into details such as “I have been with them all day and I came with your dad so he’d have someone to go to the hospital with him!”
I realized arguing with her was a cause better suited for a monkey than a man, so I pretty much just paced around the house waiting for the police to arrive, ignoring her the remainder of the night. During that time, my dad called the KY State police and filed a theft report. They never showed. I knew they wouldn’t. I have a decent idea of how the law works, and my suspicions about whether or not the safe had been “stolen” were proved correct later when Evan Norris showed up to save the day.
I want it to be known that through all of my experiences with policeman, and there have been several (anywhere from when the time I wrecked to the time my dad was burning all his clothes in front of the house), never have I felt like so much was accomplished, as was the case with this visit. As far as I’m concerned, Evan Norris is the most respectable man in uniform in all of Martin County. If every cop were as admirable as he appeared that night, the world would be a much grander place.
Essentially, it went down like this. He told my dad that since they are married still (he and my mom), anything his is half hers, so she couldn’t have technically stolen the safe (this is what I myself believed, as I alluded to earlier). He asked me about the whole situation and why what was going on was going on, and I informed him of the entire day’s events. He reiterated to me what he’d told my dad, and assured me that we’d be able to leave soon, confirming that I was 18 and actually able to leave without my dad’s consent.
My favorite part of the entire evening was when it was brought to everyone’s attention via Evan that Stephanie had more than the legal amount of Xanax in her system, as he could tell by her eyes (I told ya I could tell, didn’t I)! He administered a drug test to her, which surprised all of us when she passed, and instructed her to remain at home due to her appearance. Finally, he forced my dad to move his vehicle so we could leave the scene.
I went and got the safe out of the storage unit and brought it back to him, mainly for good karma. I figure I could do something somewhat nice for the man since after that I was prepared to never see him again, at least for a while anyway. Curtis and I parked at the very end of the driveway and walked the safe to him, then retreated.
“There better not be anything missing.”
At this hour (2:53 AM EST), approximately one week and 4 days since that night occurred, that is still the last full sentence I’ve heard my dad utter. He mumbled some stuff as Curtis and I hurried back to my Jeep, but nothing clearly audible.
I fell asleep that morning on the couch in one of his living room’s that has since become my permanent bed for the summer’s remainder, not reconsidering once my decision to move out on a whim, but only of the extreme kindness that I have been given. There are people without a single worthwhile friend. I have countless people to rely on, as illustrated by all the help I was granted without any questions raised.
Devin could have easily demanded to be taken home – but he didn’t. Speedy could have worried himself to death and eventually cracked and have a nervous breakdown – but he didn’t. Heath tried his hardest to stay longer, even lying to his parents in order to remain, but his efforts were well appreciated. Curtis even tried to call someone to come kick my dad’s ass – those are what real friends are, to those of you who have none. If you can find just one person like any of these guys, you’re bound to do fine in life. I’m too lucky.
I’d also like to take this opportunity to restate how appreciative I am to the Goble family for taking me in during the last month of summer. Curtis obviously doesn’t mind, but I know it makes things at least slightly more difficult on Carla, Danesha, Machelle and Gamble having me around the house. The girls are like sisters to me and Gamble like another mother (among the many I can claim – you can never have too many, though). They too, are too kind.
Devin was right – this certainly made one hell of a blog entry. But, it was something much more special. What started as a trip to buy comics and Yu-Gi-Oh! Cards turned into something much more eventful. I’m thankful for every morsel of it, however. After all, I made an unforgettable memory with some of my greatest friends during the final summer that we would all spend together before we ventured off to college. We turned what appears on the surface to be a tragic experience into something twenty years from now we’ll be telling our kids about and laughing with each recollection.
That’s what life is all about, folks – being with the people you care about and making memories that will last a lifetime. Making them is always the best part, but if they’re looked back on as they should be, as experiences that made you better for having them, then it’s nearly just as sweet.
Prince Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
Quote of the Day
"Truly great friends are hard to find, difficult to leave, and impossible to forget." --- G. Randolf
8/09/2009
Thursday, Part 2
We arrived at Page 3 a smidge after 1 PM, which is when Scott, one of the employees, told us he’d be coming on that day the last time we were at the store. He’d made an arrangement with Heath to sell him one of his Mirror Force cards (see below) for $40 since the store didn’t have any singles of their own in stock. $40 for one card is quite expensive, but it was still better than the Internet asking price (anywhere from $45-$50) and it was cheaper than buying tons of Metal Raiders packs (the largest set in Yu-Gi-Oh! that exists) and hoping luck would cast a big smile on you. Heath was unable to come with us that day, so he’d given Curtis the money. We made the purchase outside (as I imagine it’s illegal to do in-store). In addition to the Mirror Force, I bought a Dark Armed Dragon (affectionately referred to as DAD among Yu-Gi-Oh! buffs) for $20 – the most I have ever or will ever spend on one single card, I assure you. After the money and cards exchanged hand, we quickly stashed the $60 pieces of cardboard and holo-foil into my Jeep, and returned to the store.
I ended up getting about $28 in store credit out of the 7-8 movies I traded in and a handful of crap cards, which was not bad at all, especially when coupled with the fact that due to a store error I still had $15 remaining from the last time I visited the store. $43 in imaginary money is loads of awesome!
I bought about $5 worth of common Yu-Gi-Oh! Cards (50 different cards, essentially) and all the issues of the Blackest Night comic story arc that is occurring in the DC Universe that I cared about reading; Blackest Night #1, Green Lantern #43, Green Lantern #44, Tales of the Corps: Blackest Night #1, #2 and #3. It was a good day for nerdness, I assure you.
The others finished their purchases and we left in search of food. Our restaurant of choice – Burger King, always. There has only been three times that I’ve went out of the county with friends that I can remember not eating Burger King while we were gone, and all three were with Corey Howell. Together once, we found out Sonic really sucks.
We headed home soon after eating. When we arrived at my place, the only difference in scenery was that the woman downstairs had woken up and was walking around the house and the woman in my bed had disappeared and my dad had taken her spot. The woman who was up and about is Amanda Mills, someone who’s been semi-living with my dad and I for 2-3 weeks. Huge pill whore, no doubt about it – the eyes say it all.
I believe it was Curtis who called Heath and told him to come over to my house cause we were going to hang out. I suppose Heath’s definition of “hanging out” didn’t include coming up to my room, which looked like an F5 tornado had touched down dead center, and watching my dad snore obscenely in my bed in nothing but his tighty-whiteys. Regardless, he stayed and together we packed.
There was an odd feeling attached to the whole experience of me packing up my belongings. On one hand, I knew it was something I would have to do within the next month due to my moving to Lexington. There’s no way I would have left anything valuable in my room, whether it be monetarily valuable or just worthy as a memory. Either way, it would have ended up pawned for drugs, I believe.
I suppose the circumstances are what painted the whole afternoon and evening with a feeling of displacement. I already knew that Curtis’s mom wouldn’t mind a bit for me moving in with them for the remaining month of summer, so it wasn’t like I didn’t have a place to go. And even if they had minded, there were all kinds of people I know who would have gladly taken me in – and that’s not even counting my mom (I really didn’t want to spend my last month before college in Huntington without my pals, or I would have gladly moved there)!
No, it all felt strange because you just don’t wake up thinking “I bet I’m going to come home and have to move out because it appears your dad cares more about his drugged up fuck buddies than he does you”. Now, if they were nice, pretty or in any form or fashion attractive in any sort of human way, maybe I would have understood. Maybe.
I called my mom and warned her about the situation, telling her she might want to come and get some of her things. My dad left with Amanda soon after that, and we packed in peace for about an hour or so.
We got the call from ARH around 8:45 that an Amanda Mills had been checked in and had a concussion from a car wreck and they were seeking my dad for an insurance statement, or something along those lines. I told them I wasn’t my dad and left it at that, but was extremely curious about what had unfolded after my dad left. My mom showed up while this phone call took place.
Everything played out surprsingly well over the next two hours. My friends acquainted themselves with my sister’s new boyfriend, Mikey (Sturgill, I believe) from Tolsia, who we all unanimously agree is better than her previous guy. I reminisced continuously in addition to catching up with my mom and sisters a tad as I packed item after item…
- My NBA action figures – specifically, my Dwayne Wade, Ben Wallace (Chicago Jersey) and Allen Iverson (Denver Jersey) figures – which are linked to a day where Corey, Curtis and I ended up in Paintsville, Prestonsburg, Pikeville and Williamson all in one day, and we almost died at least twice, once due to an “imaginary” red car popping up out of nowhere. Yes, imaginary.
- A fair amount of soda and juice bottles and cans. Call me crazy, but I consider nearly anything a keepsake, and those were no exception. I have numerous Jones Soda bottles, which I kept either for the memories associated with them, or for the funny artwork, or both. I’ve got the last can of Venom (an energy drink) I will ever drink, which I recall buying once on a “let’s try this crap” binge with Curtis. It’s terrible stuff. Also among the collection was the last liter of Mountain Dew: Pitch Black II I’ll ever get to drink – I loved it, but it wasn’t popular enough to stay around, unfortunately.
- My computer. This machine’s been through a lot – from viruses to soda spills, it’s been there with me for the past six or so years. I know people who’ve gone through three or four computers in the same time period – not I! And with a dial-up connection for most of it! Ah, 56k – there’s something I won’t miss.
Those are just some of the memories that went into boxes that day. Each and every item had some significance behind it. A person’s possessions say a lot about them, even if you don’t know what it is, whether it is something big or something small. Sometimes it’s even a secret, but I have no doubt that it always matters.
My mom departed and soon we would. We’d just finished our next to last load of stuff (all of which we were taking to the storage unit we rent), and were packing up our last load for the night. The moment Curtis’s car and my Jeep were stocked as full as they could be ( I had my Nintendo 64 in the front seat, barely keeping steady thanks to the computer being placed underneath it), around 11:30, we were set to take off. Then, a white tool truck backed into the driveway, obstructing our exit path.
The day could already be described as insane. It was about to go to a whole new level.
Prince Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
Quote of the Day
"Sometimes it's the smallest decisions that can change your life forever." --- Keri Russell
Thursday, Part 1
July 30th, 2009
I said I love you and goodbye to my mom, who’d traveled from Huntington to bring me back to Curtis’s house where I’d left my rust gold-colored Jeep Grand Cherokee. Looking back, I scoffed at the idea of driving the thing when it originally came into my possession (a term I use very loosely, for reasons you’ll be exposed to later), but have since come to love this 10-year-old result of automobile manufacturing.
In just eight months, so many memories were accumulated that related to that Jeep in some form or fashion. In no particular order, those memories include and are not limited to:
- My first time driving to my mamaw’s house. It was Christmas and it was just my dad and I. That was the first time I’d ever been to her house without my mom or my sisters. Later that same day I would drive to Mary Ann Fletcher’s grandparents house to have dinner with her family. The Lakers defeated Boston that day. We took all kinds of pictures that day. That was the first time I ever met most of her family. And, for better or worse, it is likely the last good time together I’ll ever spend with her or them, as well.
- My last kiss from Heather Workman – tear-filled and full of bitter-sweetness.
Unfortunately, it was just as I imagined our final kiss would be. Except for the frog ring.
- My first prom night. Also, my first day where nearly 6 hours were spent
washing an orange diesel guzzling Peterbilt so you could arrive with the best date you could ever have in the best ride you could ever imagine.
- My first time being pulled over by a cop. I swear, I was in no way intoxicated or under the influence. How was I to know my dad had removed the license plate from the back of the vehicle?
- My first time (of several, subsequently) driving around with an animal in the vehicle. I don’t know where you are now, Snaps, but I hope there’s a cat there to chase.
- My first use of four-wheel drive during what turned out to be an unnecessary trip through the mountains this past Fourth of July as Brittany and I sought the grounds where my dad and his family were cooking out up Longbranch.
- The first time I nearly sideswiped a friend as we were both on the highway racing to a place to have a water balloon fight. On a related note, also the first day I had a water balloon thrown at me from a moving vehicle, Cameron.
- Also, the first (and so far last) day I demanded Carrie Jude to crawl over seats to the back of the Jeep and supply me with unopened cans of Mountain Dew to throw at Jamie Duty’s car.
- Opening my first pack of Yu-Gi-Oh! Gold Series 2 to reveal both a Gold Sarcophagus AND Mind Control as two of my three Gold Rares (to those of the non-card gaming community, if Dark Armed Dragon or Solemn Judgment had been in the pack instead of Elemental Hero Captain Gold, this would have been the best pack possible)!
And, as I unlocked my Jeep and laid down in the driver’s seat to sleep for a couple of hours (I wanted to avoid waking anyone at Curtis’s house up) until 10:30 when Curtis and I would leave for Pikeville along with some other friends, I had no clue it would be linked to one final memory – one that, is awkward, strange and at times horrifying as it can be, appears to be the most fitting close to what has been an eventful year before I entered college.
*********
There are plenty of nominees in contention for “Worst Roads in Martin County”, but nobody can convince me that Wolf Creek isn’t up there for the title. They’ve got some shitty pavement going on up there – trust me. Alas, I had to retrieve Devin Blamer. I invited him to go with us to Page 3, and I wasn’t going to back out of getting him. Curtis was picking up Speedy, who we called that morning before we left to tell him happy 18th birthday, and found out his mom was allowing him to go with us. We were going to meet at my place, hop in the Jeep and take off.
After traversing Evans Hill in order to shortcut to my house, we met up with Curtis and Speedy and were about to take off. First, however, I had to go into my home and collect some movies my mom said I could trade in at Page 3 for store credit. I found them, and more so.
My dad’s truck was parked in the driveway, yet when I got inside I saw no sight of him in his usual mainstays:
1.) Passed out on the couch.
2.) Passed out on one of the two mattresses in my sister Krystle’s old room (before she moved out).
3.) Passed out on the kitchen floor with a half-eaten bologna sandwich in one of his hands.
(Okay, that last one has never happened fully – I have found my dad passed out in the kitchen before, unfortunately.)
Although he wasn’t there, I did find a woman in his bed. I chuckled a bit at the sight of what I assumed to be a pill whore, given the emotionless look in her face, full of craterous misery, and headed upstairs, where I partially expected to find the worst of whatever happened last night at the house of Moore.
I found it. My dad, lying in just his white briefs, barely contained underneath a cover. In my bed, another woman, presumably another pill whore, but I couldn’t tell, as all I could see were her feet. I quickly burst out in anger, waking my dad but not interrupting the woman’s sleep at all, further justifying my opinion about her.
“I like how you respect my stuff!”
“You told me you were going to be back Wednesday night!”
“Yea, before I left I said I’d be back Wednesday night at the latest…and it’s Thursday morning now!”
That’s how the argument started out. That alone should give you indication of how stupid it really was. At some point, he ended up saying that I should get all of my shit out of there because he wanted that room. That was fine by me, and I said that I’d start moving out as soon as we got back from Pikeville. He mumbled lots of other things, but I didn’t even care to listen anymore. I found the movies my mom was talking about and bolted out the door with my pals.
We got in the Jeep and on our way to Pikeville spoke about how much disrespect had been shown for me through my dad’s actions. Well, the observers of the situation spoke about it and I just agreed as I drove on, laughing everything off, for the most part.
In fact, the only point the whole day that I was near tears, was when I picked up the sealed Wonder Woman Season One boxed set my mom instructed me to take because she had another copy. I stared at it for a moment, fought back some tears wrought by the anger and the situation, and calmed down.
I did not expect to come home and find my dad had partially destroyed my room and what I was sure was a wretch of a woman in my bed. In fact, I was even surprised to a degree, which is probably my fault. How dare I give my dad so much benefit of the doubt? Insane!
The rest of the day went smoothly – well, except for the crappy Metal Raiders pulls, the wreck, the hostage situation and the cops.
But, that’s for part two =]
Prince Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
Quote of the Day
"The distance between insanity and genius is measured only by success." --- Bruce Feirstein
I said I love you and goodbye to my mom, who’d traveled from Huntington to bring me back to Curtis’s house where I’d left my rust gold-colored Jeep Grand Cherokee. Looking back, I scoffed at the idea of driving the thing when it originally came into my possession (a term I use very loosely, for reasons you’ll be exposed to later), but have since come to love this 10-year-old result of automobile manufacturing.
In just eight months, so many memories were accumulated that related to that Jeep in some form or fashion. In no particular order, those memories include and are not limited to:
- My first time driving to my mamaw’s house. It was Christmas and it was just my dad and I. That was the first time I’d ever been to her house without my mom or my sisters. Later that same day I would drive to Mary Ann Fletcher’s grandparents house to have dinner with her family. The Lakers defeated Boston that day. We took all kinds of pictures that day. That was the first time I ever met most of her family. And, for better or worse, it is likely the last good time together I’ll ever spend with her or them, as well.
- My last kiss from Heather Workman – tear-filled and full of bitter-sweetness.
Unfortunately, it was just as I imagined our final kiss would be. Except for the frog ring.
- My first prom night. Also, my first day where nearly 6 hours were spent
washing an orange diesel guzzling Peterbilt so you could arrive with the best date you could ever have in the best ride you could ever imagine.
- My first time being pulled over by a cop. I swear, I was in no way intoxicated or under the influence. How was I to know my dad had removed the license plate from the back of the vehicle?
- My first time (of several, subsequently) driving around with an animal in the vehicle. I don’t know where you are now, Snaps, but I hope there’s a cat there to chase.
- My first use of four-wheel drive during what turned out to be an unnecessary trip through the mountains this past Fourth of July as Brittany and I sought the grounds where my dad and his family were cooking out up Longbranch.
- The first time I nearly sideswiped a friend as we were both on the highway racing to a place to have a water balloon fight. On a related note, also the first day I had a water balloon thrown at me from a moving vehicle, Cameron.
- Also, the first (and so far last) day I demanded Carrie Jude to crawl over seats to the back of the Jeep and supply me with unopened cans of Mountain Dew to throw at Jamie Duty’s car.
- Opening my first pack of Yu-Gi-Oh! Gold Series 2 to reveal both a Gold Sarcophagus AND Mind Control as two of my three Gold Rares (to those of the non-card gaming community, if Dark Armed Dragon or Solemn Judgment had been in the pack instead of Elemental Hero Captain Gold, this would have been the best pack possible)!
And, as I unlocked my Jeep and laid down in the driver’s seat to sleep for a couple of hours (I wanted to avoid waking anyone at Curtis’s house up) until 10:30 when Curtis and I would leave for Pikeville along with some other friends, I had no clue it would be linked to one final memory – one that, is awkward, strange and at times horrifying as it can be, appears to be the most fitting close to what has been an eventful year before I entered college.
*********
There are plenty of nominees in contention for “Worst Roads in Martin County”, but nobody can convince me that Wolf Creek isn’t up there for the title. They’ve got some shitty pavement going on up there – trust me. Alas, I had to retrieve Devin Blamer. I invited him to go with us to Page 3, and I wasn’t going to back out of getting him. Curtis was picking up Speedy, who we called that morning before we left to tell him happy 18th birthday, and found out his mom was allowing him to go with us. We were going to meet at my place, hop in the Jeep and take off.
After traversing Evans Hill in order to shortcut to my house, we met up with Curtis and Speedy and were about to take off. First, however, I had to go into my home and collect some movies my mom said I could trade in at Page 3 for store credit. I found them, and more so.
My dad’s truck was parked in the driveway, yet when I got inside I saw no sight of him in his usual mainstays:
1.) Passed out on the couch.
2.) Passed out on one of the two mattresses in my sister Krystle’s old room (before she moved out).
3.) Passed out on the kitchen floor with a half-eaten bologna sandwich in one of his hands.
(Okay, that last one has never happened fully – I have found my dad passed out in the kitchen before, unfortunately.)
Although he wasn’t there, I did find a woman in his bed. I chuckled a bit at the sight of what I assumed to be a pill whore, given the emotionless look in her face, full of craterous misery, and headed upstairs, where I partially expected to find the worst of whatever happened last night at the house of Moore.
I found it. My dad, lying in just his white briefs, barely contained underneath a cover. In my bed, another woman, presumably another pill whore, but I couldn’t tell, as all I could see were her feet. I quickly burst out in anger, waking my dad but not interrupting the woman’s sleep at all, further justifying my opinion about her.
“I like how you respect my stuff!”
“You told me you were going to be back Wednesday night!”
“Yea, before I left I said I’d be back Wednesday night at the latest…and it’s Thursday morning now!”
That’s how the argument started out. That alone should give you indication of how stupid it really was. At some point, he ended up saying that I should get all of my shit out of there because he wanted that room. That was fine by me, and I said that I’d start moving out as soon as we got back from Pikeville. He mumbled lots of other things, but I didn’t even care to listen anymore. I found the movies my mom was talking about and bolted out the door with my pals.
We got in the Jeep and on our way to Pikeville spoke about how much disrespect had been shown for me through my dad’s actions. Well, the observers of the situation spoke about it and I just agreed as I drove on, laughing everything off, for the most part.
In fact, the only point the whole day that I was near tears, was when I picked up the sealed Wonder Woman Season One boxed set my mom instructed me to take because she had another copy. I stared at it for a moment, fought back some tears wrought by the anger and the situation, and calmed down.
I did not expect to come home and find my dad had partially destroyed my room and what I was sure was a wretch of a woman in my bed. In fact, I was even surprised to a degree, which is probably my fault. How dare I give my dad so much benefit of the doubt? Insane!
The rest of the day went smoothly – well, except for the crappy Metal Raiders pulls, the wreck, the hostage situation and the cops.
But, that’s for part two =]
Prince Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
Quote of the Day
"The distance between insanity and genius is measured only by success." --- Bruce Feirstein
7/29/2009
Summer Sounds
I’m aware that it’s been twenty days since I last posted an entry. I’m as disappointed in myself as the frequent readers of this site probably are. In addition to the lack of posting, I have yet to fulfill my self-imposed duty of writing a recount of the Florida trip that I know some people have been eagerly waiting for. I promise, that will come to fruition eventually. It’s no excuse, but I have been pretty busy lately. The lack of Internet at my house has been disconnected – that didn’t help. I’m posting this entry from Huntington. My only other reliable means of Internet access is Curtis’s house, and it’s unusable for financial reasons…=)
What have I been busy doing? Essentially, aside from work, which ended about a week ago, hanging out with my pals extensively, which is what I personally feel like I should be doing during the final summer I experience before college life begins. As much as I hate to say it, this could be the final days I have with some of these people. I’m making the most of them.
So far, this has been a mundane, cliché-filled piece explaining the reasons for my absence. I intend on making up for that with the rest of the entry. How?
I’m going to show you some songs from my MySpace playlist and open up about them. Sounds odd, yea, but, it feels like it could be a fun little project to get me back into a blogging groove. And, if successful, could become a monthly thing or something? We shall see!
1. Weightless
Artist: All Time Low
First listen: Last night when Jessica Farnham kept sending lyrics from the song to me on Yahoo! Messenger
Favorite Line: “Maybe it’s not my weekend, but it’s gonna be my year.”
So, I’m playing ‘20 Questions’ with Jessica, and playing ’20 Questions’ with Jessica is nothing like playing the real game. Her version is essentially a question and answer session that has no restrictions on the type of questions that can be asked. There always ends up being more than 20 questions asked.
As alluded to above, she sent lyrics from the song sporadically during our “game” until finally I asked her what they were from. She told me it was All Time Low’s new song “Weightless” and it was currently her favorite tune. I decided to give it a search via MySpace Music.
The opening of the song puts me in mind of Relient K, one of my absolute favorite bands. The song as a whole is really upbeat and conveys an optimistic message via a sense of hope and want illustrated throughout the course of the four minutes it lasts.
2. The Spectacular Spider-Man Theme Song
Artist: The Tender Box
First listen: When I watched the first episode of “The Spectacular Spider-Man” around 1 o’clock in the morning on The-Channel-Formerly-Known-As-Toon-Disney
Favorite Line: “Living on the edge, fighting crime, spinning webs.”
The first thing other than Spider-Man that comes to mind when I hear this song is Curtis Goble, one of my best friends. What Batman is to me, Spider-Man is to him. Batman is better, though =P
This is a fantastic show, though. It and “Wolverine and the X-Men” are easily the two best cartoons that have came out in the past five years. Both shows are delightful in both their animation and story-telling, and I look forward to watching both for years to come.
In fact, if all holds up well, I’ll be purchasing the 1st season of The Spectacular Spider-Man within the next few days. Woo!
3. Broken
Artist: Lifehouse
First listen: Unknown
Favorite Line: “And I still see your reflection inside of my eyes.”
My present infatuation with this song began when I first saw the trailer for “The Time Traveler’s Wife” attached to “My Sister’s Keeper” . For those of you who don’t know (like me until I did a Google search for “Song used in TTTW trailer”), it’s the song playing towards the end of the preview. On that subject, that appears to be a worthwhile movie to see, especially for a “chick flick”. I’m anticipating it somewhat.
I’m taken to a lot of places when I listen to this song.
One of those places is Heather. There’s still a lot of remorse there for that whole situation in my heart, but I imagine there will always be at least a little bit. I mean, how could there not be? First love – check. Good relationship gone bad – check. Unresolved issues that will likely never be brought to light again – check. These are all components for a lingering feeling, but ones that I’m happier to be living with now in retrospect than to be living without. I learned so much from being left for ladies. Ha.
Another place it takes me is a place I’ll care not to discuss until the end of the summer. She’s a wonderful place, though, at least in my head.
4. Rockin’ the Beer Gut
Artist: Trailer Choir
First listen: In Curtis’s living room on GAC while we were playing Yu-Gi-Oh!
Favorite line: “…And with the blue jeans a little tight around her butt…”
I think about Mary Ann Fletcher every time I listen to this song. While we were dating, she had a little bit of a belly and I adored it. After her alluring eyes and sweet ass (*see favorite line*), it was my favorite of her physical features. I just loved rubbing on her little tummy.
There’s a strange girl for you. We had a huge falling out due to some idiotic issues, but I’d be lying if I said I don’t miss her. She was fun to talk to, and especially during the times we spent chasing after each other, there was no better person in my world. People change though, sometimes for the better and at times for the worse.
At least you have upbeat songs about beer bellies to remember them by.
I’ll stop there. This blog turned out a bit different than I envisioned, but I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing. I’ll try to post tomorrow about some of the Huntington happenings that have occurred during my stay here!
Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
Quote of the Day
“For everything you have missed, you have gained something else, and for everything you gain, you lose something else.”--- Ralph Waldo Emerson
What have I been busy doing? Essentially, aside from work, which ended about a week ago, hanging out with my pals extensively, which is what I personally feel like I should be doing during the final summer I experience before college life begins. As much as I hate to say it, this could be the final days I have with some of these people. I’m making the most of them.
So far, this has been a mundane, cliché-filled piece explaining the reasons for my absence. I intend on making up for that with the rest of the entry. How?
I’m going to show you some songs from my MySpace playlist and open up about them. Sounds odd, yea, but, it feels like it could be a fun little project to get me back into a blogging groove. And, if successful, could become a monthly thing or something? We shall see!
1. Weightless
Artist: All Time Low
First listen: Last night when Jessica Farnham kept sending lyrics from the song to me on Yahoo! Messenger
Favorite Line: “Maybe it’s not my weekend, but it’s gonna be my year.”
So, I’m playing ‘20 Questions’ with Jessica, and playing ’20 Questions’ with Jessica is nothing like playing the real game. Her version is essentially a question and answer session that has no restrictions on the type of questions that can be asked. There always ends up being more than 20 questions asked.
As alluded to above, she sent lyrics from the song sporadically during our “game” until finally I asked her what they were from. She told me it was All Time Low’s new song “Weightless” and it was currently her favorite tune. I decided to give it a search via MySpace Music.
The opening of the song puts me in mind of Relient K, one of my absolute favorite bands. The song as a whole is really upbeat and conveys an optimistic message via a sense of hope and want illustrated throughout the course of the four minutes it lasts.
2. The Spectacular Spider-Man Theme Song
Artist: The Tender Box
First listen: When I watched the first episode of “The Spectacular Spider-Man” around 1 o’clock in the morning on The-Channel-Formerly-Known-As-Toon-Disney
Favorite Line: “Living on the edge, fighting crime, spinning webs.”
The first thing other than Spider-Man that comes to mind when I hear this song is Curtis Goble, one of my best friends. What Batman is to me, Spider-Man is to him. Batman is better, though =P
This is a fantastic show, though. It and “Wolverine and the X-Men” are easily the two best cartoons that have came out in the past five years. Both shows are delightful in both their animation and story-telling, and I look forward to watching both for years to come.
In fact, if all holds up well, I’ll be purchasing the 1st season of The Spectacular Spider-Man within the next few days. Woo!
3. Broken
Artist: Lifehouse
First listen: Unknown
Favorite Line: “And I still see your reflection inside of my eyes.”
My present infatuation with this song began when I first saw the trailer for “The Time Traveler’s Wife” attached to “My Sister’s Keeper” . For those of you who don’t know (like me until I did a Google search for “Song used in TTTW trailer”), it’s the song playing towards the end of the preview. On that subject, that appears to be a worthwhile movie to see, especially for a “chick flick”. I’m anticipating it somewhat.
I’m taken to a lot of places when I listen to this song.
One of those places is Heather. There’s still a lot of remorse there for that whole situation in my heart, but I imagine there will always be at least a little bit. I mean, how could there not be? First love – check. Good relationship gone bad – check. Unresolved issues that will likely never be brought to light again – check. These are all components for a lingering feeling, but ones that I’m happier to be living with now in retrospect than to be living without. I learned so much from being left for ladies. Ha.
Another place it takes me is a place I’ll care not to discuss until the end of the summer. She’s a wonderful place, though, at least in my head.
4. Rockin’ the Beer Gut
Artist: Trailer Choir
First listen: In Curtis’s living room on GAC while we were playing Yu-Gi-Oh!
Favorite line: “…And with the blue jeans a little tight around her butt…”
I think about Mary Ann Fletcher every time I listen to this song. While we were dating, she had a little bit of a belly and I adored it. After her alluring eyes and sweet ass (*see favorite line*), it was my favorite of her physical features. I just loved rubbing on her little tummy.
There’s a strange girl for you. We had a huge falling out due to some idiotic issues, but I’d be lying if I said I don’t miss her. She was fun to talk to, and especially during the times we spent chasing after each other, there was no better person in my world. People change though, sometimes for the better and at times for the worse.
At least you have upbeat songs about beer bellies to remember them by.
I’ll stop there. This blog turned out a bit different than I envisioned, but I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing. I’ll try to post tomorrow about some of the Huntington happenings that have occurred during my stay here!
Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
Quote of the Day
“For everything you have missed, you have gained something else, and for everything you gain, you lose something else.”--- Ralph Waldo Emerson
7/08/2009
Wildcat
During the next four years, Lexington, Kentucky will be my home. There's not a better place in the world I think I could be. Consider me Big Blue Brainwashed.
The idea of being set free onto a college campus, sure to be wrought with countless antagonists to my educational pursuit, is still quite intimidating to a degree. I can say wholeheartedly, however, that after surviving my advising conference and registering for all my classes with minimal conflict, the transition from high school student to college kid will be less difficult than I first invisioned.
Every building was inviting. Each person seemed helpful. Every peer seemed as delusional about the experience as I felt. UK is going to be perfect.
I still have yet to receive my housing assignment. I hope my roommate is foreign. I'm unsure why - I'm just hoping. In addition to figuring out what's up with that, there's tons I need to do before the end of August comes.
I need to purchase a labtop, I suppose. That way, I can do the college thing with more ease, and have access to the web 24/7. I'll need to find a new means of supporting certain multimedia habits I've become accustomed to since my introduction to the internet, however.
I need to pack more stuff up from my room. I can't leave home without finding a safe haven for my Ron Artest figure (circa Sacramento Kings stint) and my Jessica Alba posters. Not to mention my Up! display from the community center.
I need to spend as much time as I can with my greatest friends in my last month as a permanent Martin County resident. I see at least one more trek for Yu-Gi-Oh! cards in my future.
I need to bestow some gifts upon a few people I cherish. 2 of whom have done too much more for me than I deserve. One who has done barely anything but astonishes me each time I'm with them.
I need to blog more, but don't know how easily that will be done due to my recent disconnection from the internet at home (cable problems, we'll call it).
I need to write a song - it's been a long time since I've done that.
I need to breathe every last breath of Martin County air I can. I adore the place as much as many people hate it. I'll miss it.
But, I'm off to new pastures. Not greener ones, necessarily, but definitely ones wrought with fresh oppurtunities.
And blue - filled with lots of blue.
Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
Quote of the Day
"Artists can color the sky red because they know it's blue. Those of us who aren't artists must color things the way they really are or people might think we're stupid." --- Jules Feiffer
The idea of being set free onto a college campus, sure to be wrought with countless antagonists to my educational pursuit, is still quite intimidating to a degree. I can say wholeheartedly, however, that after surviving my advising conference and registering for all my classes with minimal conflict, the transition from high school student to college kid will be less difficult than I first invisioned.
Every building was inviting. Each person seemed helpful. Every peer seemed as delusional about the experience as I felt. UK is going to be perfect.
I still have yet to receive my housing assignment. I hope my roommate is foreign. I'm unsure why - I'm just hoping. In addition to figuring out what's up with that, there's tons I need to do before the end of August comes.
I need to purchase a labtop, I suppose. That way, I can do the college thing with more ease, and have access to the web 24/7. I'll need to find a new means of supporting certain multimedia habits I've become accustomed to since my introduction to the internet, however.
I need to pack more stuff up from my room. I can't leave home without finding a safe haven for my Ron Artest figure (circa Sacramento Kings stint) and my Jessica Alba posters. Not to mention my Up! display from the community center.
I need to spend as much time as I can with my greatest friends in my last month as a permanent Martin County resident. I see at least one more trek for Yu-Gi-Oh! cards in my future.
I need to bestow some gifts upon a few people I cherish. 2 of whom have done too much more for me than I deserve. One who has done barely anything but astonishes me each time I'm with them.
I need to blog more, but don't know how easily that will be done due to my recent disconnection from the internet at home (cable problems, we'll call it).
I need to write a song - it's been a long time since I've done that.
I need to breathe every last breath of Martin County air I can. I adore the place as much as many people hate it. I'll miss it.
But, I'm off to new pastures. Not greener ones, necessarily, but definitely ones wrought with fresh oppurtunities.
And blue - filled with lots of blue.
Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
Quote of the Day
"Artists can color the sky red because they know it's blue. Those of us who aren't artists must color things the way they really are or people might think we're stupid." --- Jules Feiffer
6/13/2009
Exhale
My prediction about the Magic was way off. My delusional guess was made fro ma mix of rage over the Cavaliers getting knocked off and slight admiration for the Magic's superb shooting ability. Still holding out hope for them, but it doesn't appear too likely.
Back from Florida finally. Expect a series of blogs about that soon.
Going to start work this week.
Feeling adventurous. A bit.
Just checking in.
More later.
Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
Quote of the Day
"Happiness is the china shop; love is the bull." --- H.L. Mencken
Back from Florida finally. Expect a series of blogs about that soon.
Going to start work this week.
Feeling adventurous. A bit.
Just checking in.
More later.
Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
Quote of the Day
"Happiness is the china shop; love is the bull." --- H.L. Mencken
6/04/2009
Magicians
I had a dream last night that I pulled 5 Dark Magicians out of packs of Yu-Gi-Oh! cards. Doing this in real life would be impossible, to my knowledge, and unwanted. However, I'm taking it as a sign.
Therefore, I predict that the Orlando Magic will take the NBA Finals in 5 games over the Los Angeles Lakers. They will win tonight, lose game 2, then proceed to win three straight at home, meaning that just as I'm leaving the state of Florida with the band, someone on the Orlando squad will be named Finals MVP a few miles away. If I had to go with anyone other than Dwight Howard putting up the numbers worthy of FMVP, it'll be Rafer Alston - I just got a feeling. I'm severely disappointed that it won't be LeBron getting that honor this year - but he's got countless ones coming to him in the future, I foresee.
I've decided I will watch the game tonight, and as much of the series as I can. Despite my distaste with basketball at the moment due to Cleveland's early exit at the hands of Dwight Howard and his squad of spellcasters, I will be pulling for them against Kobe Bryant and the Lakers.
A lot of people are predicting L.A. in 6 - easy, safe pick to make.
I've heard a couple of Orlando in 7 - the safe route to go if you're wanting to pick the Magic.
My pick is borderline insane - but so is the way the Magic plays.
They ripped apart the Cavaliers by forcing them to Hack-A-Howard, by draining transition 3s as if they were lay-ups and making it look like Mike Dunleavy took over the Cavaliers offensive play-calling. I'll acknowledge that the Magic played better with the Cavaliers remarkably that entire series, minus a few spectacular first quarters by the Cavaliers and a Magic collapse in the final minutes of game 5. Cleveland never had a shot in game 6, unfortunately - the team that shares a city with Disney World sure made some dreams come true that night.
And while I'm not satisfied with the Finals match-up, I will watch as Kobe Bryant's nightmare unfolds and his quest for to become the next Jordan gets stopped in its tracks by a man they call the Michael Jordan of Turkey. I'll witness Phil Jackson fail to attain further NBA glory and get his record 10th championship ring a his triangle offense falls victim to Stan Van Gundy's more structured and reliable version of "Nellie ball". I'll see Jack Nicholson's face melt tonight on the sidelines as a Western Kentucky alumnus, "Skip to My Lou", and a Frenchman drain 3 after 3 after 3 after 3 after 3 after 3, all while somewhere Tiger Woods will be smiling.
And although Cavaliers vs. Lakers would have been much more entertaining for me, the Magic will not only cast a spell that will ignite a fire underneath the Laker's championship hopes, but will play snake catcher to the Black Mamba's pride and legacy.
And until the Cavaliers win it all next year, that will suffice.
Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
Quote of the Day
"Using words to describe magic is like using a screwdriver to cut roast beef." --- Tom Robbins
Therefore, I predict that the Orlando Magic will take the NBA Finals in 5 games over the Los Angeles Lakers. They will win tonight, lose game 2, then proceed to win three straight at home, meaning that just as I'm leaving the state of Florida with the band, someone on the Orlando squad will be named Finals MVP a few miles away. If I had to go with anyone other than Dwight Howard putting up the numbers worthy of FMVP, it'll be Rafer Alston - I just got a feeling. I'm severely disappointed that it won't be LeBron getting that honor this year - but he's got countless ones coming to him in the future, I foresee.
I've decided I will watch the game tonight, and as much of the series as I can. Despite my distaste with basketball at the moment due to Cleveland's early exit at the hands of Dwight Howard and his squad of spellcasters, I will be pulling for them against Kobe Bryant and the Lakers.
A lot of people are predicting L.A. in 6 - easy, safe pick to make.
I've heard a couple of Orlando in 7 - the safe route to go if you're wanting to pick the Magic.
My pick is borderline insane - but so is the way the Magic plays.
They ripped apart the Cavaliers by forcing them to Hack-A-Howard, by draining transition 3s as if they were lay-ups and making it look like Mike Dunleavy took over the Cavaliers offensive play-calling. I'll acknowledge that the Magic played better with the Cavaliers remarkably that entire series, minus a few spectacular first quarters by the Cavaliers and a Magic collapse in the final minutes of game 5. Cleveland never had a shot in game 6, unfortunately - the team that shares a city with Disney World sure made some dreams come true that night.
And while I'm not satisfied with the Finals match-up, I will watch as Kobe Bryant's nightmare unfolds and his quest for to become the next Jordan gets stopped in its tracks by a man they call the Michael Jordan of Turkey. I'll witness Phil Jackson fail to attain further NBA glory and get his record 10th championship ring a his triangle offense falls victim to Stan Van Gundy's more structured and reliable version of "Nellie ball". I'll see Jack Nicholson's face melt tonight on the sidelines as a Western Kentucky alumnus, "Skip to My Lou", and a Frenchman drain 3 after 3 after 3 after 3 after 3 after 3, all while somewhere Tiger Woods will be smiling.
And although Cavaliers vs. Lakers would have been much more entertaining for me, the Magic will not only cast a spell that will ignite a fire underneath the Laker's championship hopes, but will play snake catcher to the Black Mamba's pride and legacy.
And until the Cavaliers win it all next year, that will suffice.
Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
Quote of the Day
"Using words to describe magic is like using a screwdriver to cut roast beef." --- Tom Robbins
6/02/2009
Summer Winds
Summer has just started and already I feel like I've done so much.
I helped around the house Saturday evening and most of Sunday. My dad built a pig pen. I hope he actually goes through with his idea of raising pigs - not only because I thoroughly enjoy ham, but because I imagine it will give him a sense of accomplishment I feel he desperately needs to take his mind off of my mom.
Yesterday I went adventuring with Corey and Curtis. Adventuring, as in, we went to three different cities in the span of 6 or so hours to nerd shop. I acquired 3 comics (one of which was an accidental purchase), a classic Nite Owl DC Direct Figure and a DC Universe Firestorm action figure from Page 3, and all 3 McFarlane Sports Picks NBA figures they had at Magic Mart (Series 12 Dwayne Wade, Ben Wallace and Allen Iverson, for those curious. At 5 bucks a piece they were a steal - if only they'd had more =(
We spent the ride home making a 30 minute video on Curtis's cell phone, which will soon be uploaded to Youtube, hopefully, as will the Lamb Chop videos we made on the evening before graduation.
I'll attempt to write a piece about graduation similar to what I wrote about prom within a little while. I'll be pressed for time in the next week due to the Florida trip, but I'll be sure to jot down things from that in the journal Mr. McCoy gave me, a spectacular one at that.
It's storming now. A blast of wind just blew the door to my balcony open. It felt great.
This is short and and unfulfilling somewhat, but I just wanted to let my readers know I'm alive, well and will be continuing to write for this blog throughout the summer, just not as much as I was previously.
Just slightly less, hopefully =)
I'll leave you with a picture of the ticket the school gave to those with trouble walking up stairs. Find the indecency for yourself. It was put there by the school itself - not myself. Though, I somewhat wish I could have crafted such hilarity. Alas, SCHS couldn't let us leave without one last blast of incompetence.
Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
Quote of the Day
"In summer, the song sings itself." --- William Carlos Williams
I helped around the house Saturday evening and most of Sunday. My dad built a pig pen. I hope he actually goes through with his idea of raising pigs - not only because I thoroughly enjoy ham, but because I imagine it will give him a sense of accomplishment I feel he desperately needs to take his mind off of my mom.
Yesterday I went adventuring with Corey and Curtis. Adventuring, as in, we went to three different cities in the span of 6 or so hours to nerd shop. I acquired 3 comics (one of which was an accidental purchase), a classic Nite Owl DC Direct Figure and a DC Universe Firestorm action figure from Page 3, and all 3 McFarlane Sports Picks NBA figures they had at Magic Mart (Series 12 Dwayne Wade, Ben Wallace and Allen Iverson, for those curious. At 5 bucks a piece they were a steal - if only they'd had more =(
We spent the ride home making a 30 minute video on Curtis's cell phone, which will soon be uploaded to Youtube, hopefully, as will the Lamb Chop videos we made on the evening before graduation.
I'll attempt to write a piece about graduation similar to what I wrote about prom within a little while. I'll be pressed for time in the next week due to the Florida trip, but I'll be sure to jot down things from that in the journal Mr. McCoy gave me, a spectacular one at that.
It's storming now. A blast of wind just blew the door to my balcony open. It felt great.
This is short and and unfulfilling somewhat, but I just wanted to let my readers know I'm alive, well and will be continuing to write for this blog throughout the summer, just not as much as I was previously.
Just slightly less, hopefully =)
I'll leave you with a picture of the ticket the school gave to those with trouble walking up stairs. Find the indecency for yourself. It was put there by the school itself - not myself. Though, I somewhat wish I could have crafted such hilarity. Alas, SCHS couldn't let us leave without one last blast of incompetence.
Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
Quote of the Day
"In summer, the song sings itself." --- William Carlos Williams
5/27/2009
Prom
My alarm starts blaring at
Timbow told me he’d need about an hour, so I go back upstairs and get back into bed with Curtis, who seems to have never woken. Lying there, I envision how the night will hopefully go once she and I arrive, wondering if it will be awkward or unamusing, hoping for the opposite of course. She being Lauren Whitney Kirk, a brunette 10th grader with prom experience whom I’ve known since she was in fifth grade, and I being Joshua Aaron Moore, the first-time prom-goer who was left dateless via lesbianism and was happy to just be going with someone at all, let alone someone I find enthralling.
The time passes, and I make Curtis get up and we bolt out the door about 25 minutes before Timbow said he’d be ready. I’m eager to start to start washing the coal truck. I’m ready to start preparing for my senior prom night.
******************
The day began with humor wrought by youth.
“I’ll kick your ass,” my little nephew Doyle David told his father, Doyle Moore, as he hopped into the back of Doyle’s truck. Doyle was speaking to one of his drivers. Curtis and I couldn’t help but chuckle profusely at the lack of shamelessness the little guy running around in clothes that barely fit his chubby frame exhibited as he continued to talk about how he wanted to drive a truck one day.
“No you don’t, you want to get you an education,” his father told him. My dad always told me that growing up, too. I never wanted to drive a coal truck my whole life, though.
I was, however, in addition to making an extremely memorable entrance to what would surely be a memorable night, looking for a way to honor my upbringing. 95% of what I own was bought with money produced from coal trucks, in some form or fashion. Arriving to prom in a diesel-fueled machine would kill two birds with one stone.
After watching Doyle and Doyle David for a few minutes, Curtis and I went back to my jeep to rest up some more while we waited for Timbow to arrive in his rig. It would be about 30 more minutes before he would arrive in his big orange machine. When that time came, Doyle had left with his son and for a little while, it was just me, Curtis and that tangerine colored monster, which while caked in mud and black streaks of acidic waste, still showcased a promise of beauty that I hoped would foreshadow good things to come.
******************
Despite my mom insisting it would take a good deal of time, I did not imagine Curtis and myself would spend roughly 5 and ½ hours washing that coal truck.
The ugliest part of cleaning the 15-ton Peterbilt, at least in terms of making a mess and injuring ourselves, was also the first part – using a pressure washer to strip the mud away from the coal truck’s exterior. Not only did the escaping residue find home on our t-shirts, shorts and shoes, but much of the dirt particles managed to also fixate themselves into our eyes, causing massive redness to apparently accumulate around my own, according to Curtis anyway. Alas, if I’d gone blind, I was going to get the job done and get it done right.
Once the pressure-washing was completed, not only did the remaining clean-up feel much easier, but the whole mood transformed from a gritty, silent one to a chipper, talkative one. It’s hard to recount the conversations that take place between truck-drivers when they’re assembled together to help service one of their rigs, but I feel like there’s a brotherhood there that itself needs to be written about via infiltration, i.e. Hunter S. Thompson’s “Hells Angels”. I digress, though. They can be a rough, but hardy bunch. At some point the words “Fuck limousines. This cost a whole lot more than a damn limousine” were spoken – possibly some of my favorite dialogue ever.
By
******************
I knocked on Lauren’s front door with all sorts of mixed emotions as I peaked through the glass awaiting someone to answer. I was ecstatic to see her dolled up, nervous due to not being insanely confident about my own appearance, and anxious overall about how the night would go.
Lauren was stunning, of course. Glasses donned, hair put up, adorned in jewelry, she didn’t miss a beat. Her heels brought her up almost to my eyes or so. We matched better than I anticipated. So far, so good, on that part. However, immediately, my anxiety overcame me for a moment, and when Lauren went to the restroom for a minute, I whispered to
“Tonight is going to be awkward.”
“Why do you think that?”
“I don’t know. I get the feeling a little bit that she doesn’t want to be in it.”
She reassured me that I shouldn’t worry and that we were going to have a good time. Still, after the picture taking was through, I wasn’t completely convinced that she was looking forward to the evening as much as I was. I was in ecstasy thinking about the event and spending it with her, a girl I admire much. If her excitement was at least half of mine, I’m glad.
******************
I needed to have my jeep at school in order to be able to take Lauren home after prom ended, yet couldn’t drive myself to the coal truck, which was meeting us at the
She exhibited a mix between awe and fear when she looked up at the big rig. I aided her entry, which appeared slightly difficult, but not as much as I imagined it would be for her, by holding up her dress a bit for her. My first thought was that she might think I was trying to sneak a peak up underneath – nowhere near my intention obviously, and she laughed about it herself even when I expressed this concern to her later on in the night.
I shook hands with Prowler, who claimed he didn’t have a ‘fucking clue’ how he got involved in driving the truck, but he didn’t mind it one bit, saying it’ll be easy.
“You’ll never forget it, that’s for sure.”
“That’s right,” he responded.
I asked him to drive a little slow, because Lauren seemed a tad unsettled about being about
“Don’t be afraid,” I told her. She smiled, sitting beside me, relaxed. It didn’t help my cause once Prowler was shifting gears and the truck rocked hard as crossed a bump on the way to Inez, though.
The conversation was nice. Half-jokingly, I told her in whispers that most truck drivers “cuss a lot and do pills” – calling them words of wisdom for her. It was here for the first time she mentioned her mother giving her words of wisdom about the night. She mentioned “not ruining my night” as being mixed in with the advice. She didn’t need to worry about that.
I was sitting on the bed in a fiery orange Peterbilt with a girl whose smooth, milky shoulder I’d accidentally nipped a little with my teeth during my second round of whispers. I was sitting on the bed in a fiery orange Peterbilt with a girl who not only liked the color of the vehicle she was riding in, but said I looked swell as well, and even if she was lying, which I don’t believed she’d do, it made me feel good. And, when we arrived at school, and I was able to help her out of the truck by cradling her within my arms (which her mom would later describe as very gallant) and both our faces lighting up with delight just as I envisioned it would go, I was certain about it – the rest of the night could have been dreadful, but that ride there alone insured she wouldn’t ruin it.
******************
I won’t talk about the endless amount of pictures we took before entering the building, my pants breaking and needing to be safety pinned before I busted my first move, or going through Grand March and never handing our tickets over because we were taking more pictures inside the gym. I’ll skip to the dancing and the events that unfolded throughout the night.
We didn’t dance the first slow song. I think we started to dance halfway through the second one, yet ended up finally embracing during the third one. Or, maybe it was halfway through the first and then the second, etc. The beginning is cloudy – just let it be known that I like to dance, and I like to dance with someone who seems to like dancing too, and although she was reluctant to hit the dance floor come fast time, she wrapped her arms around my neck like a pro. It looks easy, but I swear there’s a talent to slow dancing, or something, that makes some people crap at it. Maybe I’m nuts, though?
Regardless of when the dances took place and how well we both seemed to be doing at it (yes, I think I’ m a decent slow dancer and just a slightly above sub-par fast dancer – sue me), we seemed to enjoy ourselves during each ballad bolted out from the speaker near which we were dancing. That was all that mattered.
During every song that I knew the words to (the country ones and a couple of others, essentially), I sang. I do it all the time, every dance I’ve ever been to. I was afraid that it might annoy her, but to my surprise and delight, while dancing during Far Away” by Nickelback (I’m 95% sure it was during that song – and if it was, a very touching moment occurs later, ha), she looked at me and asked why I never sing in front of people, saying that I sounded good. I told her I’m not confident enough to do so but was appreciative of her compliment. It meant a lot to me, really.
There were so many moments to remember scattered throughout the night. Getting excited when “Shake Your Tailfeather” came on and I danced to it with Sha-La Cornette, who the night before I promised a dance. Giving an address to my senior class in honor of my junior friends who made the scenery so wonderful. Receiving the “Most Likely to Succeed” award. Having Stephanie Mills awkwardly attempt to tell me she liked me, which while very flattering, but did leave an odd taste in my mouth. Not a bad one, neither was the dance we shared a bit later when she asked for one – but just a little unusual that she did it there, seeing as I had a feeling she was going to speak up soon. Brave of her, I’ll say that. I told her I was interested somewhat but was not seeking a girlfriend at the moment, which for the most part was entirely true. I then met back up with Lauren, almost spilling punch, which was the best I’ve ever drunk, on her dress. That would have been heartbreaking.
As the night drew to a close, Lauren and I drew a tad closer in our dancing. Maybe during the whole night, nothing was better than “She’s Everything” by Brad Paisley and she and I dancing to it. The moment couldn’t have better represented how much my life has changed over the past 6 months. Heather, while not a real fan of country music, liked that song, one I’d put on a CD for her once.
I was supposed to be at prom with Heather Ann Workman. That’s how, for 3 and ½ years, it was going to happen. We were in love. We had our ups and downs. But no matter what, we were going to my senior prom together, and that was that. I refuted no matter because the ‘what’ was too heart-wrenching.
She said if I’d changed my mind at the very last second, no matter what, she’d go with me still, after I told her I didn’t want to go with her despite our demise. I turned down no matter what in favor of a risky proposition.
Going with Heather had no chance of being as good as it would be in my imagination. One night with your ex-girlfriend who couldn’t be happy with you because you weren’t a girl could never live up to the nearly four years of expectations of a night you were going to share with your girlfriend that cherished you as much as you cherished her. There were no expectations for Lauren to live up to – and it was fabulous.
Lauren’s head lay on my shoulder as I whispered the lyrics the
As the last song played, we danced about half of it, then I grabbed our things and we headed out to my Jeep. It was time for the long-haired boy from up Steppbranch to take the princess of Inez home.
******************
The day ended with humor wrought by youth.
“You’re supposed to put your glass in the sink!” Lexi shouted out at me after I chugged a glass of chocolate milk. I obeyed her instructions, even taking time to wash the glass, which she noted I didn’t have to do. Her delivery was perfect, in my opinion.
I was standing in Lauren’s kitchen in my shirt and pants, having forgotten my Patrick Patterson jersey and camouflage cargo shorts at school, while she was dressing into something more comfortable. As I did earlier, I felt at home in their house.
Martha offered me some money to go buy Lauren and me something to eat, but neither of us was really hungry so I declined. She went to bed, leaving Lexi to “keep an eye on us”.
The AM relaxation was well deserved by both of us. We’d had a long night. We played with her puppy Bella, I chatted it up and took some pictures with Lexi, I even helped her remove little hair clips from her hair which gave way to a pony tail made of curls – which amazed me, for some reason.
It was nice. All of it. Her in her red sweatpants as I checked the score on the Nuggets/ Lakers game – it brought back a lot of memories. It was good in itself though – new, fresh, yet familiar.
An hour passed, and she seemed to be passing into the world of dreams. I crept over to her, let her know she was tired, and decided the time had approached for me to go. I hated to leave – I could have stood in that doorway staring at her for hours, Lexi frolicking around her as if there wasn’t a woman in another room trying to sleep. I tossed her my eagle necklace, the one she stole from me/I gave to her, which she’d placed around my neck a little bit earlier, as I walked out, unsure if she’d wanted me to keep it, or had wanted me to give it back to her.
She’s always going to keep it. No one else but myself has ever worn it. And it looks a damn lot better on her.
******************
Prom was amazing. The scene, the drinks, the mood, the dancing, the music, the lady – every facet was crafted to meet my standards, it seems, looking back. It was better than anything I pictured in my mind, with anyone, one thousand times better.
“Far Away” popped up in my shuffled list of all the songs on my iPod on my drive home from Lauren’s house. Remember that tender moment I said to watch for? I teared up a bit.
So much has changed for me in the past few months, it’s hard not to cry all the time. I’m graduating in two days. My family has been a wreck. Having a penis wasn’t helping me out with my girlfriend. 5 or 6 hours with Lauren and all of my friends having a good time made me forget all of that for a while.
I asked Lauren to go with me because there was no one else better, period. I’d been trying to salvage a friendship with her that I had before Heather, and it’d been two years since we’d spoken in a meaningful manner. We’d been talking, and I couldn’t think of a better candidate. I’m glad she said yes.
One word led me to a night I’ll never forget. One word led me to spending $50 that I didn’t need to spend due to negligence on the ticket-takers part on someone who I wouldn’t care to spend $50 on again. One word led me to loving every single inch of the time spent with a girl who I deeply admire but had nearly thrown out of my life for good. One word led me to memories that will be thought of in hard times.
Thank you for saying yes, Laury. For one night, you protected me from all the demons and illness I harbor within me. I tend to keep myself in decent control of them, but it sure was wonderful having someone else help out for a while.
A night to remember is an understatement. It was a night to dedicate monuments to, to start wars over, and to name babies after. I have no stones to build with, no guns to fight a battle, and no baby to give a name – I could only write about that night, and I hope it was good enough.
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