LADY K!

This Saturday she will not yet be older, but it's close enough. Come on up, down or over to the LBC and help us celebrate. We'll be starting off around 6ish at the pike bar and grill for drinks and/or food, after which we'll head back to our house for chillin good vibey times. Here's a map of the area with our home and the bar for reference.

Beaster

I'm in Boston. I like it, but it is cold. We've only been here two days. We seem to have accomplished a lot. We arrived at 6:30 (eastern) in the morning yesterday, slept until 10, went to the aquarium with bro and not-sis-in-law, walked around the north side, had espresso and conoli at an Italian cafe, came back to bro's house, napped until dinner, socialized, went to communist bar, bed, sleep, up, church, God's word read in intimidating Boston accent, He is Risen, went to Harvard, ate with John Harvard, hiked, bought discounted Easter candy/ice cream, ate, drank, am merry. and now...K is reading, I am not-writing a paper, I am blogging, I am hating that it has become a verb "to blog". K probably thinks I am being very successful on my writing because of the many tap-tappy noises coming from the keyboard. Happy Easter!

Lady K

She comes from a great family. I like them. I wish they didn't live in fresno!

The Mississippi Rio West and the Mouse of Light

to move is to be alive, a decision acted upon and thus a recognition of existance. Now that I am one with another, I can justify these yearnings with finacial matters and future ventures, but this is not why I move. I have always had a hard time with the physical "home." (I speak conceptually here.) Perhaps this is why I move, I am seeking this physical "home". The hindus have a sacred sound pronounce "om." It is the infinite, representing Brahman and the entire universe...(my brain made a connection there but I don't feel like explaining it) More likely, though, I think I just get bored. I have always become bored with my surroundings. Hindsight has left me wishing I hadn't grown so bored sometimes (i.e. the halfway to whittier transition). When friends continued the party into whittier, I moved into the hellhole. These "what if's" and "what could have been's" seem such a vicious spiral. I tend to spend very little time indulging them. which leads me to the memories out of which my choices have scripted; The billy porch where we came to know each other; visits from matt; Fountain Valley and a friend named hickey, (whom I just found out has become a father); Long Beach, Billy, Dan and of course my lady. As much as I would have loved to have been apart of the defining moments in much of my friends lives, I can't help but be satisfied with the choices I've made. If there was a word that meant sad/happy I would write it here now to describe this feeling. Perhaps the french have such a word.
my home now, is in my lady, and I pray this never bores me. If you think this a horrible thing to say, forgive me. I have always looked up to my father, related with him and thus, thought myself like him. Then one day he up and divorced his wife. He say's he never really loved her. I can only hope this to be true, because I love my lady like no other. But having grown up in that house, it can be sometimes hard to reconcile.
...so here I am packing yet again, with hopes of meeting one more year of memorable satisfaction.
cheesy? yes, but I've got a few in me, so kiss off!
If your reading this blog and care about these words then I'm sure I feel the same and hope and need more time with you in the future.

Love,
Keith

hello agian

how's everybody doing? I hope the weekend is ending well for all. Are you feeling refreshed, rested, rejuvinated. If monday finds you too soon, just think, another 5 days and we'll be facing freedom again. Here's what I have to look forward to.

Another friend joining me at 27
looking for boxes, packing boxing, packing cars, lifting large items.
wiping dirty asses
poly sci testing
hamlet reading
bhagavad gita reading

I ask no pity on another move. we find ourselves with a bug for change. perhaps this bug could be inched with a bit of traveling, but after a stint of said traveling we find ourselves with nothing left over for more traveling. Solution: pay less rent, do more traveling. added bonus: more money for the "get the hell outta Cali fund!"

So Lady K and Mister K will be moving up the street to a cheaper place on saturday. if there is any desire to lend a hand, we are accepting help from all those not celebrating their naked, slimey emergance from a womb in chico. added bonus: you get to meet my in-laws!

anniversified

2 years! The life span of an ant.

Lady K and I made are way back up to Santa Barbara to relive our 1st. Last year we hiked a hefty mountain and didn't make it.

This time we made it all the way to the top.

The hike was 6 miles, not including the 1 mile detour (we tend to get lost when we hike). With a 3000 ft elevation gain it felt like climbing a 3 mile stairway. It was good.
With our muscles still burning we were off to our favorite SB resturant. Last year I had yummy bacon wrapped steak, topped with Gorgonzola sauce. I was tempted to repeat, repetition being the theme of this anniversary. But alas I stepped out of made another delicious choice, spinach ravioli filled with herb and Gorgonzola cheese topped with sun dried tomato pesto. ohhhhh shit. I don't usually react to food like this. It's reminiscent of the story of J and a quesadilla. Speaking of J we stopped in his home town today for lunch and had the most excellent black bean burger at an irish pub. Again I refer to the story of J and the queso. oh yeah! that good.

cozy cold

Lady K and I have begun wintering up the place with false greens, stringed lights and duraflame, giving us cozy no matter how f-ing cold it is. This apartment may be big and beautiful, but it's a vacuum for cold air. We bought a space heater, but I think our space is too big. Lady K and I have begun using it as a pillow, that seems to work. The apartment came with a wall heater, but the pilot is out. I would light it but I don't have my wings and can't find the cockpit.

small talk

Lady K and I will be attending a party tonight. I dread it for two reasons. It has been titled, "a halloween party." This implies a dress up party. Now, underlying every halloween party is a competition, whether it is outright or not. everybody who walks through the door is judged within the first three seconds. Presentation is key. There are three main approaches to this. There is the classic scary. This is everything from dracula, to modern gore. Scary takes some planning and preperation and often invovles makeup. Then is the sororety sexy, best exemplify by the movie and television industry. (ie"I'm a vampire with cleavage and a short skirt." or "I'm a kitten in lengerie.") Then there is the humorous. You confuse them with your appearance prompting a question. "Who are you?" Now here comes the punchline. It better be good.
One's costume must be at least one of three things. It must be creative. It must be humorous. It must be awesome. of course, it doesn't have to meet these requirements. But you better be sure that if it doesn't meet one or more of these requirements, it doesn't look like you tried to meet one or more of these requirements. Cause then you just look like a faluire. Lady K and I have not spent the last two month's plotting our dress up, and therefore are left with all of these last minute pressures. We will most likely go for the "not looking like we tried" catagory. It always seems to attract the least amount of attention.

I did say, I dread the party for two reason. I am becoming increasingly poor at socializing. The close friends I can do. I'm talking about the "you know me, I know you, but we don't ever really talk" socializing. Then there is the "you don't know me, I know you" or the "you don't know me I don't know you". All of these I have extreme difficulty in coping with. The condition I am most comfortable with is the "you know me, I don't know you." Maybe it's because I feel I have the upperhand (what the hell is that psychology?). When appraoched by people, I am instantly ackward. The worst part is I don't shut down. This seems like it would be best for everyone. Instead, I turn on, I start talking. I make not funny jokes, stick my foot in my mouth, and try to keep the conversation continuous with very poor small talk. All the while the real me is distant and observing. "What the hell is he saying?" I don't know, it's all a bit weird. Just a case of the old man crazy coming out prematurely. Maybe it's the chemo.

Just in case you wanted to know...

Lady K and I went to Santa Barbara this weekend in celebration of our 1st Anniversary. We stayed at a little Inn off State St, nothing special, but it had a spa and a bed. What more do you need? Saturday we hiked, almost made it to the top. The incline was steep and our legs were weak, so alas, feeling accomplished enough for one day we turned our sights towards the car. On the way down she knocked her knee on a nasty stump, and just to make sure I was well and worried, she fainted. And thus she scared the shit out of me. But with a little food and water we were back on our feet and heading down the wrong trail. We had to climb a rock to find it again. We soon found our way home and headed off to the jacuzzi (spell check suggested jackass rather than jacuzzi) before a painful stroll down State street and a delicious dinner at Pascucci's. I recommend the the sirloin steak with the gargonzola sauce. Sunday we walked the pier, rented mopeds and cruised the streets of SB. Good times.

I did not go into work this morning, I'll be going later. Sigur-ros is playing and I am trying to read. I used to think they were called cigerettes and people were just saying it with an accent because the band was from another country and that's how they said it. I thought that was kinda weird... I'm a bit distracted. The gardeners are outside, and the stinch of wet grass is seaping through the open window. It's noisy too. I would close the window but there is a window fan in the way, and that just complicates things. there is a red and green shoebox under our coffee table. my wife is great like that. we also have a picture of a boy on our fridge. she sends money to him every month, and has for years. As for the the festive shoebox, in time it will be filled by my wife with necessities and small toys and sent off to a third world country to make some child happy come christmas. One time when we were "not dating," the time before you're allowed to call it dating, she made me a package. I was flying to see my family for thanksgiving. the package was filled with things to do on the plane; a cd she had received free at some festival, german phrases having to do with travel, conversation starters for the people seated next to me and a note from her. I like her... the gardeners are gone now.