family talk

oh –the dreaded family gossip shit.  you think it will never hit your family–but it eventually will.  it is like a disease that you can always count on and it will never stop from coming to your family.  one day you are living in peaceful ignorant bliss, not realizing that just below the surface is this wave of family talk. it could be about you or it could be about your kids or it could be about your wife –who the hell knows.  you could actually never find out about this negative shit, especially if you live miles away from the epicenter.  but if you want to know what really is going on –take the plunge and move back home.  it will be painful, but at least the truth will eventually come out.  is it good for you –yes and no.  yes, because you can let others know that the shit aint true and no, because then life will never be the same –the last piece of innocence from your childhood will be gone and a piece of you will die with it.  you are now an adult marching down the path towards the end…might as well have a drink (or 2) on the way to soften this devastating blow (it’s about time you woke up!!!).  now your job is to keep your kids in bliss for as long as possible….oh, reality, oh reality….hello reality, hello.

Pamplona, 1995

Today someone was gored to death at Pamplona –the first time since 1995, when Matthew Tassio died. I was running when Matthew died and wrote this piece about the experience:

That was a great summer. It was the summer of ’95 and I was set to go on a 2-month trip packing around Europe. My buddy Jim and I were making the final arrangements, which wasn’t much – buy a backpack and get a ticket. Jim bailed out at the last minute and left me holding the bag (or backpack) I said “fuck it”, I’ll go anyway, on my own and meet a few of my European friends along the way. I had a buddy in London and one in Prague, so between those 2 destinations I could get lost bumming around the place. Halfway through the trip I found myself on a train from Barcelona to Pamplona to partake in the running of the bulls. As soon as I boarded the train I immediately hooked up with 3 other dudes in a cabin, they were also all cruising on their own and we all started to chat about the bulls. One guy was from Maryland, a real Jim Morrison look-alike. He had that laid-back look about him that seemed to beckon the girls to his doorstep. Another guy was blond due from Uruguay. He was cool – a rich kid who had played soccer all his life. The last guy was from Germany, I think Munich. He was totally out there, some bohemian type of dude with a name like Kai.

So there we were, the four us, somehow chosen by destiny to meet on the eve of the running of the bulls festival. We knew right then and there that we would experience this part of the journey together and to celebrate, we started drinking right away. We drank all through the train ride and were quite sloshed when the old bird rolled into Pamplona. The first thing we did was check our bags into the pack station. They had this huge warehouse for all of the back-packers shit to be checked in for a small price. This was a must, because there definitely weren’t any rooms available. Thousands like us were showing up at the last moment, based on decisions each one of them had made in the last 48 hours.

Nobody gave a damn about the rooms, we were there to get drunk, get laid and get our asses chased by those damn bulls. You know the ones that were made famous by Ernesto himself in his cool little book of dialogue called The Sun Also Rises. Shit, if it Ernest hadn’t written that book and put Pamplona on the party map, none of us would be drinking our way to this little hick town deep in the foothills of the Pyrenees Mountains. This whole festival focuses on the words of Ernesto. Everyone walks the streets with bags of cheap red wine, singing songs and getting ready for the race the next day. The race happens at 8am for 8 mornings in a row. When the cannon goes off at 8am, the bulls are released at one end of town and then make their way through the barricaded streets to the arena filled with thousands of screaming spectators. The street around the arena is called, appropriately enough, Paseo de Hemmingway. There is also a marble bust of old Hemmingway himself at the entrance of the ring. In front of these running bulls, of course, are the crazy gringos like myself running our asses off so we don’t loose them to a bull’s horn or hoof. Also in the group of crazies are Aussies, Kiwis, Europeans and seasoned locals who like to start the race within inches of where the bulls are released.

After we checked in our packs, we set out exploring the town and looking for some booze to keep the buzz going. We knew his was going to be one hell of a night and we wanted to get the full dosage. Plus, you had to get really trashed knowing that your bed was the local park and your roommates were about a thousand other people laying around, stashing their wallets between their legs to ward off the local thieves. So drink we did –all night long, barely stopping to watch the fireworks that were being shot over the local park. By daybreak our focus was on the running. 2 of our group had met some ladies and gone that route for the night, leaving me and Jim Morrison to get ready for the race. About 1 hour before the start, we found an outside coffee stand filled with eager runners, mostly locals. To get back some of our edge, we drank four espressos in a matter of 20 minutes. We also started talking to a few of the seasoned runners about strategy for the run. While this was going on, old Jimbo was lured away by a couple of cuties and soon he drifted away from the scene.

So there I stood, once again alone, and ready to take on this outrageous challenge. In fact, on the train ride up, I told my group that I wasn’t sure about running and that I probably wouldn’t do it. Well so much for that. Because at that moment when I stood drinking my last espresso and chatting with the locals about strategy, I knew that my destiny had already been played out for me. I set down the cup and walked off with my 2 Spanish companions, an uncle and nephew.

They were each dressed in the traditional garb of white shirt and pants with a red sash around the waist and neck. All I had on was a red long-sleeve t-shirt and jeans. I would acquire my red bandana later. When we reached the entrance where the bulls would come charging out in a few moments, the uncle gestured me to keep going down the street, away from the bulls. His name was Jorge and he had made this run 22 times before, with not even a scratch to show. These seasoned locals would run directly in front of the bulls, constantly snapping them on the nose with rolled up newspaper. They loved to tease them this way, it was part of the thrill and it also keep them interested in the whole process of the run year after year.

Jorge told me to keep walking down the road, to get as far ahead of the bulls as possible when they were released. Being a novice, this would give me the best chance of staying alive and still be able to enjoy the thrill. I heard the cannon go off and my heart leaped into my throat. The crowd behind me started to take off and so did I. One slip and the crowd and the bulls would be on top of you. There was no way off this street, each intersection was boarded up 8 feet high with onlookers ready to push you back down into the street. Looking back over my shoulder as I ran towards the arena, I could see the bulls making their way at a very fast pace. In front of me was the narrow entrance to the arena. This was the bottleneck area, where if you got trapped in there with the bulls on your heals, you were doomed. This was the most dangerous place to stop and smell the roses. I made it through the bottleneck and ran into the heart of the arena. Wow, what a thrill! The arena was packed with screaming spectators, cheering you on to watch your ass or probably to not watch your ass. They wanted blood, they wanted disembowelment, and they wanted your ass on a bull’s plate.

Once the runners settled into the heart of the arena floor, the 6 bulls soon followed. The crowd parted and let the bulls pass out the backside of the arena. Cool, we had made it through that scene and damn, what a thrill it was. The show was far from over. For the next forty minutes they released baby bulls for the crowd to dodge. The trick to this part was to watch which way the crowd moved and follow that lead. While dodging the bulls, I met a guy from my travels in Budapest earlier in the summer. We started shooting the shit, not paying attention the crowd movement. Next thing you know there is a bull right on us. He dove one way, I dove the other, just barely missing my ass from being ripped off. The crowd in the stands went wild, you could tell they were a bit disappointed I didn’t get a horn stuck in my ass. After it was over, I hobbled out of the arena with a bloody knee, talking with the guy from Budapest. For the rest of the day I felt like a king, the thrill of the run overwhelmed my senses. The only downside was that the cut on my knee didn’t leave a scar. Know what I mean.

superhero path

you are running down the road and there is no one around –then yell out loud that you never quit, that you never give up, that you will succeed, that you will make it happen, that you will kick some ass –and do it to U2’s “Desire” –because you have desire and you will live the life that you want to live –and you will overcome all obstacles and the glass is half-full –and you were supposed to get laid off –because you did that job for too long and it was time for a new challenge –what are living for? –to be in rat race, to not smell the roses, to be on the same treadmill forever –c’mon–you are here for a short period of time –slap yourself in the face and get on that superhero path and yell to the world that you are making it happen!!

get (sh)it done!

what the hell are you waiting for? your ass is against the wall–you need to wake the shit up and make it happen–if you get to noon and you haven’t done squat–you got a bloody problem–put your finger on the keyboard and push it out–make the calls–check off your daily/weekly list–one by one–progress will occur–bit by bit–step by step–from the 30k ft view–change will be seen. you need to send out those resumes, you need to send out those emails to your contacts, you need to make calls to people you know–you need to follow up–never quit, never give up –it is not in your nature to fail–so why the hell are you doing it now–get some cash flowing some way, some how–consult, contract, give plasma–whatever it takes to get the bread–accomplish at least 1 thing on your list each day–then the ball will start rolling down the hill–as mentioned–if you ain’t sick, then you ain’t got any reason not to enjoy the struggle–without it you would be dead

no need for failure

laid-off, unemployed, kicked in the gut, thrown down –WTF, right? no, not right –this is not failure–this is a wake up call. you were done this way because it was time for a change. you did that job and now it is time for new challenges. wake up and smile because you just got a new life–have a beer, talk a run, have fun with the kids–be grateful that you were shaken from that deep sleep we call daily routine. this will get you to think more, this will get to to do more, this will make you stop and smell the roses. do you see it!! it is not failure, it is success–it is life–it is change that is needed to grow and push harder. it will make that long off day on the beach of retirement–a day to smile, because you were thrown down and you lived a better life because of it….no need for failure

transition table

in case you haven’t noticed–i am going through a transition. i got laid off in this lovely recession after a great 5 year run at an internet company –so i am unemployed and going through a transition. i got this table i have been working on -sanding it, staining it, sanding again, etc.–i started working on it when i was in employment bliss–completely ignorant of the axe coming to chop me, and at that time the table had little significance. but now, after the chop and the shock and the transition period covering my life now–oh–the table is now a symbol of this transition –i nurture it, i put on multiple coats, i give it much more attention than when i was in employment bliss. this table will help me get through the transition and the transition will help me create a better table –thus helping to create a better life in regards to my next move…..so go find your transition table –whether it be an actual table or a an exercise program or a blog..

feeling it

oh, i am starting to feel it. and it is life. life is good–even though i am unemployed, even though my bills are skyrocketing, even though i am getting middle-aged –life is still good. why? because it is bloody life and we only got one of them. you can still drink, you can still eat, you can still laugh, you can still sleep (maybe), you can still shit –it all feels good and i am feeling it –are you?

riding the bike

yeah–went for a ride –getting back on the bike after being knocked down on my ass. but i can get back on, even in this new world –i can find a new place, i can adapt to change, i can make things happen, i can get it done. we are not supposed to glide through life unaffected–we are supposed to be knocked down, we are supposed to get back on the bike–we are supposed to feel the pain–we are supposed to be shocked –what a painful process -but it is a necessity to growing and achieving what you want in life. i am riding the bike, i am learning to be hungry again…i am…

stripped naked

that is what happens when you get laid off –when you have 3 kids and a wife that depend on you –when you cry your eyes out, knowing that the climb to the top will now be harder–that you must start over–that you are one of the unemployed pack–that you must fight to stay alive–to help your family have the best life. you are only a # and you are treated as such –you are completely stripped naked in front of your friends and in front of your neighbors –they now know all your secrets–you are not keeping up with the joneses –you have fallen behind…such is life–such is a naked life….

the pressure

oh the pressure…it is a bitch and it hits every time you have a major decision to make. which path will you take? is it the right one? there is no way to know. you must weigh the options and the problems that could arise from each choice that you make. how can anyone know which way to go? the answer is simple. you don’t know and you never will until you make the decision. so, you must take the facts you got and make that decision…oh the pressure–have a drink and relax a few extra minutes before you put your ass on the line –if it ain’t health related, you’ll live