3 lavender candles
1 rose petal passion candle
1 dozen red roses
1 box of rose petals
1 lavender bubble bath
2 VS gift boxes
1 Chinese takeout menu
1 Amélie soundtrack CD
1 Jazz à St Germain CD
1 massage book
1 beez wax lip balm
2 Mint Assure capsules
1 VS For Him cologne
1 rubber ducky
2 Evian bottles
1 thunder storm
1 wakeup call
1 wishful thinker

I went to Cleveland two weekends in a row. My baby took a week off to visit her folks. I haven’t accumulated enough vacation time yet, so I just went along for the drive. We left early from work on Friday and made the 7-hour drive in 6 hours. I went in and met her parents and her sister. They were all very pleasant, and I was able to crack my shell enough to talk with them.

We went out on Saturday and took in the sights, sounds and tastes of Cleveland. My baby’s sister was our tour guide, and she took us to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, a really cool, low-key Mexican restaurant for lunch, and vintage clothes shopping all around town. We stayed at her sister’s apartment for an hour or so before window-shopping in her neighborhood (Little Italy). We went into a pastry shop, and I treated everyone to some yummy treats. We even bought delicious items for her parents. When we got back to her parents’, we unwound and went to bed. My baby experienced my snoring and said it was perfectly fine.

I woke up around ten o’clock on Sunday morning, and my baby saw me off on my return trip home. I spent the week basically alone. I did see some friends on Tuesday, which was nice, but otherwise, I spent my hours after work reading and watching TV.

The next Friday, I left even earlier from the office. My manager was out, and I had completed all of my work. I made the trip to Ohio in less than 6 hours and was delighted to have a full evening in Cleveland alone with my baby. After being treated to some homemade beef stew and watching the very forgettable “K-9: P.I.,” which her mother had rented (why do studios spend money making films like this?), the two of us went driving. She was surprised I let her drive my car. I’ve only let one other person drive my car (my brother), and that was only once. She adjusted her mirrors and her 6-way power seat, and away we went. As luck would have it, it began pouring down rain. My baby was unphased and pressed on. We went to a coffee house called Cravings, where we ordered two big oatmeal-raisin cookies, hot chocolate and tea. We sat and talked for a while, waiting for the rain to let up. She asked me how I would categorize the different youth subcultures present at the coffee house, and I thought her guess was as good as mine. I really can’t tell the difference anymore, so I just said “new-school, slacker punk.” Whatever. The rain finally died down, so we went back to her parents’.

Saturday was absolutely incredible. We woke up, got ready and headed out. First up was her “childhood tour.” I wanted to see all the landmarks of her past—where she went to school, where she played, and the places that she fondly remembers. She showed me the corner where she got hit by a car, while crossing the street on her bike. She showed me her elementary school playground—the site of her first kiss (and her latest). Then we went to a pond, where she used to frequent and feed the ducks. We walked around it and were happy to be alone. It was off to the beach after that. We headed to the great lake shore and dropped a blanked down under a solitary tree towering over the sandy beach. We were all alone, save for a sparse passerby. The weather was cool. The sun was mild. And the waves were soothing. We lied there for hours. After returning to reality, we left the beach and drove down Lake Road until we found a small bed n’ breakfast type restaurant, where we ate dinner. On the way to a bakery afterwards, a cop pulled us over. Apparently, my baby made an illegal right turn at a red light. Even though I was laughing at her the whole time (telling her this is the first time my car’s been pulled over), she was not amused. Before the cop came to her window to do the usually yadda yadda, I kept telling her how funny it would be if I jumped out of the car and just started running down the sidewalk. What would she do? What would the cop do? Well, I didn’t leave the car, and the cop came and explained the situation. I told the cop I was teaching my baby to drive my car and we were a bit distracted. The cop knew we were from out of town, so she let us go with a warning. (Yeah, chicks dig the car. Even cop chicks.) After buying a carrot cake for her dad’s 77th birthday, we stopped by her parents’ to sing “Happy Birthday,” have cake and get dressed in our evening wear. We quickly left the house and raced around to find a great spot to view the sunset over the lake. It was hit and miss until we took a chance down a road closer to the city. We parked the car and walked out over to the cliffs. We climbed onto some huge rocks, sat down and waited. The sunset was wonderful. Beautiful. Breathtaking. Like my baby. But the day wasn’t over yet. Her sister is a big Swing dancer, and she had organized a major “Swing Exchange” that weekend all over Cleveland. They had five or six Swing events each day and all night. My baby and I went to the 8 o’clock event, where they gave us a free one-hour beginners Swing class before the main event. The building was a massive, old-style dance hall. It had a huge wooden floor and a large bandstand up front. There was a live Swing band/orchestra performing and giving the packed ballroom music to jump, jive and wail to. It was a really cool event. Just watching the band was amazing, but my baby and I took the basic steps we learned from the class and got out onto the dance floor and flailed away. There were so many dancers there—varying in skill, so we didn’t feel out-of-place or self-conscious. Much of the time, we were satisfied with sitting down and watching the masters at work. It was great how into the scene everyone was. They came dressed in vintage clothes and everything. Apparently, Washington DC has a notoriously bad Swing scene, so when we told people we were from DC, you could see the pity in their eyes and the respect draining from their faces—just before they said “That’s great” and turned away. It was funny. Since the two of us were hungry and completely danced out, we left early and went across the street to a cool pub. It was 10 o’clock and the place was empty. We ordered some food and drinks at the bar, stayed there and chatted for another hour. My baby was on the verge of sleep, so we went back to her parents’ and went to bed. Though it was inevitable, I didn’t want to believe it. All days—even the really, really good ones—must end.

We got up fairly early on Sunday and headed home. When we got back, I unloaded the car, and we relaxed for a few hours. I went home and got ready for a new week at work.

Free writing. Free basing. Freebies. Free Winona. Free food. Free fallin’. Free monkeys for the first five callers. I wish I had a monkey. My baby calls me her little monkey. It’s because she saw my baby picture, and I have enormous hands and unusually long arms. I am Mikey the Monkey. Must be why my dad gave me a monkey costume for Halloween when I was a kid and gave Jamie the Incredible Hulk costume. Because he’s so hulking. And I am so monkey-like. I used to hate monkeys. Probably because of the whole Mikey Monkey thing and the whole evolution nonsense. Also because they pick their butts and throw their poop at people. But now I think they’re funny. Monkeys. I just love the word. My little monkey. My knees go weak. I think I’ve fallen really hard. I’m so charmed. Spellbound. Bloodhound. Don’t make a sound. Get to work. Eat your beans. I never liked green beans until I grew up. I like a lot of green vegetables now. Older and wiser, I guess. Older. Older than me. I haven’t had the time to sit down and discover my desires. So I stand and shake them out of my pants leg. They’re like loose change falling behind the sofa cushion. Dimes, nickels and quarters. The pennies can stay hidden. I’ve never cared much for pennies. They’re so dirty looking. Give me silver any day. And give me your gold. I would love to have lots of gold. But not in a ring. She’s 5 ¼. I’m 9 ½. We checked. Silver, baby. Only silver. I was pleased that Clive Owen was in The Bourne Identity. He’s one of my favorite actors. I thought it was funny how his character was driving a BMW. He starred as The Driver in all those BMW films. He’s so cool. Too cool for school. I wish I could go back to high school and start over from there. Knowing what I know now. I would be such a ladies man. I would not be intimidated. I would have the sharpest tongue and the greatest rebuttals to all my foes. I would write the great American novel, but mine would be greater. How I Kicked Life in the Ass and Lived to Tell The Tale. By Mikey the Monkey. I have two hours to kill before leaving work early to go to Ohio. I’m going to Ohio. Oh, really? Oh, hi yo. How ya doin’? Everything’s ruined. I took a break from life, and now I have to go back and pick up the pieces. Do we ever really change? Don’t we just go back to what we’re comfortable with? I have a feeling my heart is going to be broken. Because it usually is. I’m just waiting for that shoe to drop. So I can sing my sad, sad song and sit under my cloud and withdraw in a multi-year silence. Aren’t I overdue for a heartbreak? Things never go right for me. All of this happiness is going to hit a road bump and I’m going to be faux-surprised. Like I didn’t expect it. I’m addicted to emotional pain. It’s what drives me and my creativity. Happiness makes me complacent. Loneliness pushes me to take chances. To explore. To lament. To seek God. Imagine that. Me seeking God. It’s been so long. Riddle me this, Batman. When you begin dating someone new, isn’t it common dating courtesy to not hang out with any of your ex’s? They’re off limits, right? You don’t have dinner with them. You don’t go to movies with them. You just never see them again. Unless you’re single. I’m not jealous. I just don’t think it’s right. And it makes me wonder. Anyway… I understand that it’s hard to reciprocate the exuberance and enthusiasm that I exude. I go all-out and wear my heart on my sleeve. I don’t expect everyone to be that way. But I do expect some things. Like the rug being pulled out from underneath me. I look forward to it, because I’m a sucker for pain. Hurt me. Or love me. I swear, just do one.

I spent a lot of money on Tuesday. Which was bizarre, it being a Cheap Tuesday and all. During lunch, I made a run to Best Buy, where I bought the 24 DVD set. (A quick note about 24: It is the most engulfing and interesting show on television. I didn’t watch it during the season, but thank God my baby taped every episode and has been watching it with me at her place almost every day after work. We haven’t finished the first season yet, but I am so psyched to watch the second season, which begins October 29. That show is very, very good—a Tuesday night staple from now on. Don’t miss an episode!) I also bought the new They Might Be Giants 20th anniversary greatest hits collection, Dial-a-Song. It’s got all the great songs, except for “Everything Right is Wrong Again” and “See the Constellation,” which I’m very upset about. That means I have to get the Best of the Early Years and Apollo 18 albums (the only one I own, other than this new one, is Flood). I’m thinking about seeing the McSweeney’s vs. TMBG performance in D.C. next month, but I’m not too familiar with McSweeney’s writing. After work, my co-worker Barbara followed me to University Mall. She wanted to join our group for Cheap Tuesdays. We stopped first at University Rho, where I ordered a custom all-black varsity jacket. It’s going to be way cool, but was also way expensive. I’ve always wanted one, and now that I have some extra cash, I figured I should secure one for the winter (since I’ve become too slim for all my heavy jackets—including the leather ones). It’s a willing price I’ll pay for losing weight. We went to Brion’s Grill for a few drinks and half-priced burgers. Apparently, Diane and Tracy were there, but we didn’t see them, so Barbara and I sat at our own table. At 7:40, we went downstairs to the theater and sat down to watch The Bourne Identity. We ended up sitting behind the Pratt sisters, and they recognized me and told us to sit with them. I haven’t seen those two in about 8 years. They seemed just as wild and crazy as before, though we didn’t have much time to talk. After the movie (which was soooooo good!), we spotted Diane and Tracy towards the back. The six of us were able to shoot the breeze and catch up a little before Barbara and I left. Maybe we’ll be able to talk more over dinner next week. I hear Minority Report will be playing then. I was sad my baby couldn’t be there. We’d been planning to see The Bourne Identity together for a while now, but just never had the chance. I think she would have fun with those girls (I know she’s fond of Miss Diane—who isn’t?). Anyway, I’m fortunate to be able to spend as much time with my baby as I do, so I shouldn’t be too depressed when I’m not with her. After all, I have other friends to spend time with, too. And I always look forward to the Tuesdays when I get to.

Crap. I just remembered that I have Guitar class starting next Tuesday night for the next 8 weeks. So much for attending Cheap Tuesdays…

I see sadness all around me
I see darkness, where there once was light
But I feel gladness all inside me
I feel happiness for once in my life
Is the sadness all around me
And the darkness that surrounds me
Not simply other’s
But mine as well?