2005-09-12 - 9:54 a.m.

The Long Winters, Cinnamon

It's not quite fall, but the festivities hearlding the change of seasons are underway. One of the first few signs of the impending change is the first Mizzou football home game of the year.

I consider myself a moderate football fan, even less of a Mizzou tigers fan, but still, the electricity and all around fun generated by a home football game that descends upon the town is at worst contagious and at best overwhelming.

As my wrinkles become more prominent and my hair runs away from my forehead, I've learned to take advantage of these moments lest they pass me by and become just another in a long list of regrets. It's not so much about watching a football game as it is tailgaiting and enjoying the company of friends, some of which you only see on days like today.

Lunch was had with Sarah and her mom, who didn't turn out to be the genuine psycho Sarah had warned (and I had secretly hoped) she would be. I was hoping for rants about Cashews and conversations with the silverware and instead just got moderate sarcasm. In which case, that makes me an utter psycho myself. Hmmm. I phoned Ryan, who happened to be in town for the game and after a little convincing (how about a beer?) I picked him up en route.

Let Down, Radiohead

The new Alkaline Trio album in the old reliable 6 disc changer, we revisited the glory days of two punk-ass kids with the town in the palm of their hands. Sitting next to ole Rhymo, I couldn't beleive that years had passed since the last time we shared a stage. You could have told me we had a show at Harpo's that night, and my mind wouldn't have given it a second thought. Funny how such a close bond could be forged through the fires of love/hate/jealousy/drunkeness/ ... all of this tempered and now forged into a mutual respect/good friendship. We even laughed about our first "meeting." Ry drunkingly busting into Kate's room where I was laying in bed eating gummy bears and watching GhostBusters. Oh Kate. The band drama you gave birth to simply by being cute and a helluva talented photgrapher.

So Ry and I swapped stories, arriving at lunch casually late. Making no apologies we upped the ante by ordering beers while everyone else drank sodas. I'm no longer in the habit of boozing it just to get drunk, but it just felt like one of those days... and coupled with the downright terrible week of work I'd had, well, beers were in order. However, it should be noted that this was only the first time (out of almost 2 years of employment) that I actually said out loud: "I hate my job." And of course that was a bit of an overstatement. How can I hate a job that provides me with so much personal freedom and at the same time, so much unquestioned and unmonitored responsibility?

Your Heart is an Empty Room, Death Cab for Cutie

Lunch concluded, Ry and I walked the mall with a little tingle, people-watching and engaging in the occasional bout of tom foolery. It was only a matter of time til our internal compasses pointed directly at downtown Trops. And like the pull of the Earth's magnetic field we were inexorably drawn to this Mecca of frosty adult Slurpees. We settled on the half and half combo of Cherry Bomb and Silver Bullet. Jumping back in the car, we picked up Stephen and proceeded to play our favorite football day game for the next hour or two.

Editors note: The name of the game, as well as the rules, regulations, and outcomes are witheld from print for fear of the backlash from women's rights groups and for that matter, women in general. Needless to say it involves the occasional whistling and "cat calling" that is unavoidable on a day when thousands of co-eds wander the campus in denim jean skirts and tiny tank tops. Yeah, we're dudes alright.

By the time Ry and I actually started tail-gaiting we were both in a fairly happy place. Before long I had to bid adieu to the group and head home for the cold shower preparation that would dismiss the days activites and put me in the right frame of mind to tend bar.

So the point of this entry?

The occasional "Glory Days"-esque jaunt is most definitely accpetable when in the company of good friends whom you don't see nearly enough. Looking back is a good thing, so long as you're not tripping over anything in front of you, or missing any important turns.

Have I always been this old? I talked to my mom this weekend and she reminded me of the first day of kindergarden, when the teacher found me reading the newspaper by myself while the other kids finger painted. There I was, barely 5, reading the front page and then reciting back to the teacher the news of the day. I remember being paraded from teacher to teacher the remainder of the day, asked(forced) to read different papers, or magazines, much to the delight of the adults. And when I chose to write a story on the stock market collapse in first grade when other kids we're trying to wrap their minds around the alphabet, it wasn't long before the tests and psychological exams followed. After years of prodding and poking, I learned to suppress the gift, hide it, dumb it down...

And thus I've always felt older then my peers. A little more empathic, and often times frustrated by what I see as a lack of empathy on the part of others.

Hmmm, that was an interesting segue. In time perhaps I can unlock that portion of my mind and let loose the words that seem eager to be written. But not today.

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