I slept for a solid 3 hours last night. The other five hours I tossed and turned and didn't sleep for more than 15 minutes in a row. I couldn't figure it out, and am solidly exhausted today. But its time to hop on my bike and go.

Man I'm freaking tired.

There's this great punk bar not too far from my apartment. Less than a half mile walk. I went there tonight. And drank some, because it was cheap. There was crappy live music. And cheap drinks (did I mention that). I had a good time there, and one my way home looked up at a tree.

I climbed that tree I was looking at. I got up a solid ten to fifteen feet higher than I normally look from. To the West the sky was dark and dooming. To the East it was slightly lighter. And neither was the course I wanted to take. Neither was appealing. I kept walking my path north.

This new higher perspective did nothing to alleviate feelings about my current path in life. There's one person on my mind, and she is sometimes right in front of me, other times it feels like regardless of which way I turn she's not there. And I want her there.

"Stars fading but I linger on dear
Still craving your kiss."

I was in a grocery store on my way back from a walk to Staples to buy some ink. I really wanted some cola to go with my whiskey, and to my surprise they had RC cola. Royal Crown Cola. That cola from way back that everyone remembers their fathers drinking. Or maybe I remember my father drinking. Regardless I picked out a 2 Liter of RC Cola (on sale for $1.25) and headed for the check out.

When I got to the check out both the cashier and the older man in front of me are staring at the bottle. I tell them both is just a cola that reminds of days in the past, and they both see it has been around since 1905 (the bottle says so). Anyways I buy my soda and walk out and down the street. The man that was in front of me asks me again about RC Cola mentioning he'd never heard of it before. I tell its like any other cola, but the brand makes me smile, and think of my father.

He asks me if I like root beer. I say yes, and that Virgil's Root Beer is the best root beer I've ever had. He has never had it, but then speaks of this root beer drink called a black cow. I'm a little intrigued since I had previously mentioned to him that I was going to have whiskey with my RC cola when I got home. At this point, from his speech mannerisms I had the impression he was a little, well, how shall we say, slow. Maybe just not all there. Regardless I want to hear about this black cow drink that he says is delicious. He says there are only two ingredients. You start with a tall glass of root beer. Then, almost under his breath, real low, he says something.

I couldn't hear him. So asked for him to say it again. He learns close to me and says it again realy low. "Ice Cream." I surpress my smile when I notice he really serious. "It doesn't even have to be vanilla," he says. I say that it sounds good. He then tells me how much he likes that drink. I smile and nod politely.

He is walking the same way I am. He mentions that he has heard of Ginger Beer and wonders if it is good. I told I've had it before, that it is good, but strong and I really can't have more than one at a time. He asks, "Strong? As in.... alcohol?" I say no, just a very strong flavor. Its time for us to part as I take the corner. I tell him he can find both Virgil's and Ginger Beer in the natural foods aisle of the grocery store. He thanks me and turns to walk to his bus stop. I tell him thanks for telling me about the Black Cow, I'll check it out and smile as I'm walking away.

Finally got my drawings scanned in up to date. Well not including tonight's, which I am currently working on. Been listening to the song Six Different by the Cure lately. So maybe I parlay off of that into a drawing tonight.

Found myself thinking about September. My mother called last week and said her and my father were tentatively planning a trip out here in September. I don't know why but I feel blasé about it. Just, I don't know, not hugely excited. And that lead me to think about where I am right now. A city with few friends. No family within 9 hours driving time. No friends under 3 hours driving time. All by my own choosing.

Eh. Its Cleveland. While I may have held it over my parents head jokingly about never visiting me in Buffalo, at least when compared to my sisters in Boston, Miami, and San Francisco, I completely understood. Of course when my parents came to Buffalo the casino in Niagara Falls was the biggest attraction for them. That also was a running joke. But it never bugged me. Really. I don't know... Giant family functions, large gatherings, never my thing. I do talk to my family all the time though, but someone wanting to visit me, eh. I'm not saying that people shouldn't come visit me, but I understand, and really, eh. But it'll be nice to see them more than twice a year.

Numbness. The numbness in my left shoulder has extended down my arm a little bit. When I broke my collar bone they had told me there was a chance that some nerves could be severed in my shoulder when they put in plate. Well it did, and it just seems numb all the time. Its really not that big of a deal. Doesn't bug except for when I have an itch there and can't feel myself scratch. Maybe I never noticed it before but the inside of my upper left arm is numb too. Makes sense. Same area. Makes me think about if I ever have a heart attack will I know. I mean its not like my left arm will go more numb.

I just watched a Simpsons epidose. Made me laugh. "Go Banana" indeed. Josh Wallens is the man. His partner in crime, much less so.

Monday really was not that fantastic of a day. I found out two of my college friends had close relatives die. Ontop of that one of those friends also had a parent in the ER. So that was interesting as news days go. It wasn't shattering news, but through onto that pile a nice talk with Jenna where all her old fears came back to the forefront again. So it was a pile of news.

Tuesday I was not in a good mood. I did bike to work (which left me tired and slightly irratable) but feeling good for getting my ass on the bike despite how I felt. It was water day, so spraying kids with a hose always makes me feel good. And Bob's little sister was there, so I called her Bob Jr. Bob is this 5 year old girl named Georgia. It took me forever to remember her name, so I started calling her Bob. She in turn started calling me Bob. Now her mother also calls me Bob. And her little sister just joined my class, so I started calling her Bob Jr. And she likes its. And apparently calls her sister Bob also. Its kind of funny I think. Anyways, all of Tuesday, not a good mood. But I persevered through it and got lots of sleep last night and am in a slightly better mood today.

Oh and I saw JCVD last night. Best Jean Claude Van Damme movie ever. Good quote "the path you've set for me is full of hurdles where the answer comes before the question." Full of hurdles. I like that. The answer is already known before the question. Meaning you know the outcome without even going through the trials, or why you're going through them. I like that too. Thanks Jean Claude. You rock.

I swear life is cyclical. We come to this same point over and over again. And try to separate over and over again. And can't. Because we're drawn back to each other. And then reach a point. And whether there is a current reason or a past reason we separate. And then go our own ways for days, weeks, months and get drawn back. And reach a point. And separate. And it never works. We can't get past this point by separating. It doesn't work. So if we can't get past this point by separating....

In other news, this past weekend marked one full year in Cleveland. Wooo. To celebrate I am going to bike to work today. Its hot, and there is a 50% chance of thunderstorms. Yay.

My cats are kind of large, and were hot today. They did nothing but lounge about. But then again so did I. And Oscar (the orange one) isn't as fat as he seems. Its just the way he is laying. I swear.

Its about time for me to go comatose.



A giant Hot Italian Turkey Burger on fresh focaccia bread and hand squeezed Lemonade. I bought the turkey burger, bread and lemons at the West Side Market yesterday. I got the tomatoes from a farmers market on Monday and bought a fresh head of lettuce at the store Wednesday. There is honey mustard on the burger. It was delicious. And now I am going to go into a food coma on the living room couch.

Now: Early Morning short bike ride. I will hit up the ATM, the West Side Market, and back.

Upcoming: Shower. Lemonade (Lemons, 7 for $1 at the market). Hot Italian Chicken Patty ($1.50 at the market). Cupcake ($2 Woooo). Cleaning Kitty Litter (Booo). Fill out applications (Yay?). Go to Half Priced Books for new sketch pad (Yay!! although I'm behind on sketches...booo). Burn Desert Island CD's (Yay). Package Desert Island CD's (this may wait till tomorrow). Clean and Vacuum LIving Room. Clean and Vacuum Bedroom. Do Laundry (Ehhhh). Clean Bathroom (Ugh). Drink Beer (Yay).

Later this weekend or week: More job applications (can't hurt). Clean bike (chain, gears, wires etc.). Buy Carpet Deodorizer (carpet smells like cats). Mail Desert Island CD's. Clean off computer desk (this is necessary). Groom cats, get new play toy for Oscar. Pay Bills (I get paid Monday).

And oh yes. I need to buy toilet paper on my way home from my bike ride today. I did not realize I was out. That was a surprise this morning. Eh-oh.

Monday was a long day. I got up and felt great. I've even begun getting up earlier for some reason. I don't have to be at work until 9:30, and I usually leave on my bike at 8:45. Instead of sleeping in until 8:00 or 8:15 I've been getting up at 7:30. It allows me to make a cup of coffee and be productive before I leave for work. Well I've been working on the productive part, but getting up at 7:30 is going well, even if I just lay in bed and read.

So I felt good about getting up. But then I banged my leg as I was getting my bike out of the closet. Nothing serious so I hopped on my bike and left. Feeling good again. I biked down the road about a half mile and noticed that my odometer wasn't working. I went to tap the battery part by my wheel but missed and instead thrust my fingers in my spinning tire. I didn't crash, but three of my fingers started to bleed very happily.

But I biked on and made it to work on time. Work was pretty good (I patched up my fingers nicely). Although all my fingers were a little swollen. I had fun playing with the kids, although one accidentally kicked me in the shin. But I was in a good mood. I left and biked home (leaving work a little late) and biked rather slowly.

About a mile from my apartment I passed a free produce farmer's market. Literally, fresh produce, all free. I picked up a crate of cherry tomatoes, some cucumbers, some peppers, some peaches, and some regular tomatoes. I biked home carrying those in my arms no handed (or one handed when I needed balance). I felt good. I made a fresh tomato and mozzarella salad. It was delicious. Unfortunately I sliced open my finger cutting tomatoes.

It was a good, and bad day. But I think I came out ahead. And I'll be eating salads for a month.

I was woken up by a late night / early morning phone call. Afterwards I had this dream that I was living with an old high school friend Olivia Porter (now Porter-Sutton). Olivia and I were good friends in high school and although I haven't seen much of her since (last at our ten year reunion two years ago) she appeared (looked) in my dream exactly as she did in high school.

We were living together on the third floor of this house. She had her room and I had mine. Strictly platonic. She had a boyfriend and I was seeing someone. But we were comfortable around each other. No tension cause there was no romantic inkling at all. Our apartment was so small that we didn't lock the bathroom when showering, never knew if the other would need it.

At this point I was showering, but had forgotten to pull the shower curtain across and literally flooded the bathroom floor. But the tub (it was that tub/shower combo) was also filled with water instead of draining. I slipped in the tub and fell into the water pulling the plastic shower curtain over me. Olivia ran into the bathroom to see what happened and soaked her feet in the few inches of water on the floor. I lay in the tub (decent because the curtain covered me) and she threw towels on the floor. I was rubbing my head.

She came in and sat on the toilet and we chatted while I was trying to feel better (my head was pounding) and letting the floor dry. That when we heard a knock at the door. We didn't think anything of it and thought it was just someone for another floor and they would go away. Instead it now sounded like they were in the apartment.

Olivia went into her room scared and started smoking. She looked really frightened (and had never in my knowledge smoked, but was now). I pulled on my clothes and went to confront the guy. He swore it was all a mistake and he was a friend of the old tenant and thought he lived here. I got him out our apartment when I discovered he was part of this large group tailgating in my driveway. No one else in the house was home but Olivia and I.

I went down to the driveway to yell at everyone and they just laughed and ignored me. I told them I'd call the landlord but then when I tried to use my phone I got dizzy and nauseous. I then said I'd call the cops and the same thing happened. I tried using my phone over and over again and each time felt sick and dizzy and couldn't make the call.

When I looked up there were several people in the house already and I ran in to try and get them out. The neighbors were just watching from across the street. I swore as I ran to the door that it would be locked. But it wasn't. I ran in to confront them all....

And then I woke.

I actually wrote down this story for another friend. This is a true story about a friend from high school. Since its a little bit more involved than the Greatest Lie story I'll leave his name removed. But I'm sure any one who has heard this story will recognize the main character. But it definitely makes for a good story. And I had fun writing it down.

A Journey to Montreal

So I used to know this guy in high school. He was always a little out there. A little weird. But a goofball. Funny for funny's sake. Whether this was his real personality or the one he put out there I never knew. But it was high school. I didn't care. He made me laugh and that was all. We were friends.

He was a year younger than me and after I graduated I really did not see him often. Sure we had many of the same friends, but never hung out at the same time. Whether he was actually there in some larger gatherings or not I can not say. But I did hear stories about him.

I heard about how he always tagged along on trips, but never paid for anything. Nor did he ever seem to have his own money for those trips. He would take stupid dares to try and get money for spending. I remember a story where he tried to drink a gallon of milk in a half hour without throwing up (he threw up). In another he swam across a murky disgusting pond even though it was ridiculously cold and disgusting. Like I said, I wasn't there for these events but I heard about them. Maybe I have the story wrong for these one, but that's how I remember it being told to me.

One story I heard was more bizarre than any other. I never really had it confirmed in person, but from what I've heard it must be true. The way it starts is with this guy driving to Montreal on a whim all by himself. He gets himself a hotel room and proceeds to go out boozing. This isn't his first time in Montreal, he's been there with friends many times for random trips or concerts; but tonight he's all alone.

After a significant amount of time dedicated strictly to getting drunk, he has a brilliant and overpowering idea. He hails a cab and hops in. It is in this cab that he first reveals his idea to the outside world. "Take me to where the prostitutes are," he tells the cabbie.

The cabbie drives to a street that has prostitutes and my friend makes his pick. They get back into the cab when his plan hits a snag. Instead of going back to the hotel he tells the cabbie "Find me the nearest ATM." The cabbie complies. My friend leaves the cab driver and the prostitute of his choice in the cab and goes up to the ATM. This is where his mind starts churning again.

"What the hell am I doing?" he thinks. He's not this lowlife kind of a guy. He gets his money from the ATM and then starts running down the street away from an angry cab driver and a screaming prostitute. He heads back to the bar to celebrate his good decision making abilities.

But the story doesn't end here. After another hour or so of drinking he starts thinking of the prostitute again. Not of her in particular, but of the idea. And he hails another cab and again says "Take me to where the prostitutes are."

Once again he appears on that fateful street looking for a prostitute, when he bumps into the same on from earlier in the evening. She immediately starts yelling at him for leaving her in the cab. She extolls him on how she had to pay his fare and the return fare. She goes on about how much of an ass he is. But my friend can't take this. Not in his state. Obviously, to him, she is the one in the wrong. "We're all human," he says, "people make mistakes and can change their mind."

The details from this point are lost to history. But rumor has it that there was quite a screaming match, and that either a) none of the prostitutes would go with him after witnessing it or b) he decided it wasn't worth the hassle. None-the-less he went back to the hotel alone and the next day returned to our home town.

The Greatest Lie Ever Told isn't some obscure political scandal or cover up. It has nothing to do with the military, aliens, or religion. Its just a random stupid story from my sophomore year of college. The best part of the story is how unbelievable the lie was, and how it was believed.

It was Thanksgiving of 1998. I was rooming at college with my good friend Sean. We were both scrawny cross country runners. Sean couldn't have weighed more than 135 pounds, and I was under 150 myself. So between the two of us our dorm room seemed huge. There are many good stories from sophomore year. The Greatest Lie Ever told is one of my favorites. It centers on Sean.

To this point sophomore year Sean had done some crazy things. He stole an inflatable couch from the girls floor. Right out of a persons dorm room. I don't think he knew them well, but had met them. He just took it. And when they took it back, he tried to take it again. Sean also had his underwear ripped off him. I was in the room. I was on my computer with my back to Sean and I just hear "rrrrriiiiippppp" and Sean says "Don't turn around." Flying across the room comes a ripped pair of boxers and Sean saying don't look at he puts on a fresh pair. He swears he was just laying down and they ripped. I didn't bother to ask any questions. Thats just two examples. But that's not the story I'm telling tonight. That's just background.

The Greatest Lie Ever Told starts on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. Most people had gone home the day before; including Sean. He left late Tuesday night. I was walking to brunch with a bunch of my friends to eat before leaving for home. For some reason it dawned on me to create a fantastic story about Sean. I start the story the night before.....

"I was sitting at my computer," I tell everyone. "Sean was laying on his bed watching TV so my back was turned to him. Randomly I hear Sean talking and I turn around to see him yelling to someone out the window. I don't think anything of it and turn back to the computer. After a few more minutes I hear Sean start screaming 'I've got a fat cock!!!!' out the window."

I say all this with a straight face. Mostly. Somehow I crack a smile but not a big one. Its a small one that says this story is weird without totally giving away the lie. No one seems too astonished with Sean screaming out the window or what he said in the story either so I continue.

"I was a little freaked out," I say, "but thought it wasn't too out of the ordinary. But Sean doesn't stop. He keeps screaming and is now practically jumping on his bed (which is by the window). At this point Sean starts taking off his clothes. He strips down to his boxers still sticking his head out the window (as much as college windows allow) saying 'I've got a fat cock!!!!' When he goes to start removing his boxers I get up and leave."

At this point some friends look a little astonished. A little bewildered. But I'm enjoying it so much I keep going.

"I left the room and walked around campus for an hour or two (which I was known to do late at night) and when I got back Sean was asleep. I went to sleep and when I got up this morning Sean had already left for home."

That was the end of the story, and it worked. No one knew Sean had left the night before, so it worked well. I swore I was telling the truth and everyone believed me. Or at least half believed me. We all left for Thanksgiving break after brunch. When Sean returned I saw him first and told him everything. I told him to go along with it but he swore no one would believe the story.

After less than a day Sean broke and said it was all a lie. I'll never forget Matt's response to Sean telling him the truth; "Its ok Sean, its not a big deal that you did all that." Nor will I forget Sean's golden proof that it must have been a lie "I wasn't even drinking in the story, you know its not true." That didn't dissuade Matt.

I'm sure I'm elaborating the story here and there. It may not be exactly how I told it the first time. But Its been years. Over a decade. And I haven't ever written it down before. So I'm allowed to embellish it. Besides..... it makes for a good read. Maybe I'll write down some more stories from sophomore year on here. I've got a great true story about Pat and a pleather jacket. That's right.... Pleather.

Jeez. Feels like its been forever since I've given my site a good update. Well I'll keep the summary brief. I mean I don't even feel like updating my drawings. I've done them. But the whole scan them in and whatever process is too long for now.

So going back a few weeks. I randomly drove to Buffalo about a month ago to visit Jenna. She was sort of laid up (injured) and bored and asked me to come. And I...honestly....I wanted to see her. I sort of always want to see her. So I drove to Buffalo late at night. I got in at 3 am and we went to last call together. And I spent all Sunday with her. And it was like old times. It was great. So I've seen her a few times since then. I've tried explaining this to friends, but fail mostly. However I usually get that "as long as you're happy, we're happy" speech. Which is a good thing. Although one friend slapped me on the face. Jenna and I joke about how we haunt each others past and futures. Its a good thing.

Delaware. Delaware was great. My brother walked out on me while I was trying to have a talk with him about why I'm upset at him. He didn't want to hear it apparently and didn't want to bother to explain himself. So I haven't spoken to him since. Eh. Probably won't speak to him for a while. And won't try. He feels like he'd rather walk away than sort things out, so be it. But the four days on the beach was amazing. I love being at the beach, and this year took a "Its my vacation and I'm going to enjoy it my way" approach. That meant staying on the beach long after everyone had left, and not being as family social as I had been in the past, but I sure did enjoy my time there. I read a book a day on the beach, and spent hours by myself floating in the Atlantic. When everyone else went up to the apartments while it was sprinkling out, I instead had the whole beach to myself and swam in the rain. Wonderful. And my nephew Rider, totally rocks.

Work. Its work. I still bike as often as I can. That's about it. I've been telling people how much I enjoy Tuesdays because it is water day. It basically consists of me spraying the kids with a hose. They have squirt bottles (not guns) and there are a couple of tubs of water they play in, but the real joy for them and me is spraying them with the hose. I often "accidentally" spray them in the face. They love that too.

Cats. Angelo rocks. Oscar is getting pretty affectionate too.

30. After multiple notices I have changed my side bar to say I'm 30 not 29. Actually all those notices came from Jenna. And I'm now on the downward slide towards 31.

Josh. Seeing Josh rocked. Can't wait to see him in September again.

I had a strange dream last night. And before you ask....yes a general update is coming. Tonight. I promise.

In my dream it was modern day France, but there was still a king. And he lived in a Keep, with a castle and all. When the king had to leave he left me in charge. But I barely knew any French. So I asked my sister Missy to be my translator. As we stood on a wall above a small crowd in the castle she translated a small speech I gave about how this was only temporary, and how I would do anything drastic, but just hold strong til the king returned. And Missy translated it all.

My aide was a woman who I don't recognize. She spoke some English as well as French. Watching the crowd in the castle there were some small peasant workers and some guards and some common folk. After the speech Mim (what I call my sister) and I walked down the steps behind the wall and out a small driveway nearby. She told me she didn't want to be my translator. It was too tough and was hard to have expectations to be perfect.

I told her that was reasonable and ok and I'd find someone else. As we approached a car that was to take her home she said she forgot her bag back on the castle wall. She ran back up the steps while I stayed back talking to my aide. After a few minutes she hadn't returned and I walked back the driveway and up the stairs. At the top I saw Mim on the other side talking to two peasants who were tending a garden on the top of the castle wall across the way.

She is trying to offer a woman (it was a woman and a man) some water and the woman is refusing. The man refuses too. She turns away from them to leave and quickly the man pushes her off the wall before turning back to work on the garden. I am hysterical and run down the stairs past my aide who is coming up them. I am screaming my sister is dead and run across the courtyard to where she fell. When I get there her body is gone. I search all over and start to head up the stairs on that side to the top of the wall. On the stairs I pass a new man I've never seen before, but he has a creepy sort of smile on his face. I pass him but turn my head to look at him and he's looking back at me still smiling.

And then I wake. I thought it was strange enough to write down. Bizarre and vivd like most of my dreams have been lately. What it means I don't know. If it has any meaning at all. But bizarre none-the-less. Now to bike to work.