Khaki Man

A couple of times now I have seen something in downtown Dallas over the course of my travels. Something that has intrigued me, and made me wonder. Something that is not, for once, a bird.

It is Khaki Man.

That may or may not be an actual title that he uses. Who can be sure. But khaki he most certainly is. He wears a khaki colored shirt surmounted by a khaki colored jacket. His pants? Khaki. His socks? Visible because of the fact that his pants are also highwaters, khaki. His shoes, alas, are brown, but light brown.

I would have discounted my initial sighting as a fluke, but I have seen him in this ensemble since then. It doesn't appear to be a uniform, just his color preference. Perhaps he dreams of safaris? Perhaps he finds that getting dressed is easier if all articles of clothing are neutral? Who can say. All I know is that he walks with purpose, carrying his khaki messenger bag. And I salute him internally, for no other reason than appreciation for a rebel who revels in monotony of attire.

Random Link: Hmm... I sense a possible business opportunity...

In Honor of Classic Cinema

If all reviewers were this entertaining, the world would be a better place.

What dreams may come

It is once again early in the AM, and I am again awake. I suppose I should congratulate myself on finally achieving a more rational sleep schedule, but instead there is mild annoyance that there is nothing for me to do except crave coffee. But that is not the purpose of this post, this is a post about a dream that is still lingering in my mind. A dream that featured none other than Jesse Bond.

This dream was very entertaining, as it was like watching a show with elements of That 70's Show, The Wonder Years, Dawson's Creek, and Gilmore Girls. However, the narrator's voice and style were Mr. JB. It was blog like in the telling, only about a life and people I'm pretty sure don't exist. Unless you know a tallish, sandy haired girl with a buzzcut decorated with a skunklike stripe named Chute. It occurs to me that there does exist a young man named Bird, but whether he was the same as the one in the dream, who knows.

The setting was an unknown college where JB was living in a dorm. It was told in first person. There were many other supporting characters whose names were too long and odd for me to recall. Where I recall it beginning was with a group of 4 girls who enter the story as they are ministering to all in the dorm on the importance of wearing shower footwear to avoid spreading or catching dreaded athlete's foot, which sparked a friendship. There were references to lovely young ladies. There was some kind of costume party where someone dressed as a tree in full fall color. There was dancing. There was copious swearing. There were firepits and beer. There was background music. Oddly, there were no bicycles.

Perhaps this is divine inspiration for an Emmy winning show? Perhaps not, but it was quality entertainment.

Random Link: This sounds like something I've done in the past.

Of Hobbits and Orangutans, part 2

Tomorrow night we're in for a treat, with the last full lunar eclipse for the next couple of years. So step outside between 7:30-9:30 CST or so, bring some friends, bring some beer, and enjoy the show.

This does make me recall that I never completed the tale started many months ago, of another stargazing event. Well, my friends, sit back and enjoy this second installment.

After dining at the Cosmic Cafe, we made our way to the northern realms of the DFW metroplex. There, I came across a fellow named Nick who I hadn't seen in... almost 10 years? Good lord... anyhow, Nick has been doing pretty well for himself, and hasn't changed much from what I could tell. Still into computers, games, and movies. A bit heavier than he was as a teen, but most of us are. There we shot the breeze in his living room (or is it a computer lab? Not sure) while we waited for the ridiculously late show to start. Alex participated by snoring quietly in a corner. As the time approached for us to head out further north to escape the light pollution and hopefully the clouds that were threatening to deprive our fun, the 3 of us (Kevin and Alex) packed some sleeping bags and took off to Lake Ray Roberts.

Why don't I do this more often? It was beautiful, and even better shared in the company of friends. It might have been nicer if I had taken some Zyrtec before we arrived, because shortly after I felt like I had an unlimited supply of snot and tears. I blame the ragweed. Undaunted, we lay on the grass, talked, snoozed a bit, and watched for shooting stars. We were rewarded.

As the sun rose and diminished our view of the sky, we hopped back into the car and drove to Denton, where we dined on bagels and coffee. And it was good.

Seasons of Love

So after about 50 years, Fidel Castro is out? Wow. Not what I expected to hear when I got up this morning.

Also not what I meant to blog about this AM, either. Lately have been pondering the nature of love quite a bit, and the myriad ways it can express itself, and why. Lately have wondered whether what I considered unconditional love is anything but.

There are a lot of people that I love, family and friends. Have I ever fallen in love? Pretty certain the answer to that is no. Or maybe I have, and I've been to dense to recognize it. Certainly not outside the realm of possibilities with me, but that annoys me even more.

So the questions I pose, how do you express love? How do you know when it's there?

Walking into the Irish sky

Go for a walk with me sometime, preferably out in the woods or country, or at least a nice park or neighborhood. You will notice something. Anytime a bird flies overhead, or something starts twittering in a tree, my gaze will shoot into the sky. I may or may not stop walking, and my conversation may or may not waver.

I'm not a hard core birdwatcher, but damn, I do enjoy it when I do. To be fair, I can get pretty easily distracted by other flora and fauna, but birds fascinate me. It might be the fact that they can fly, who knows for sure. At any rate, the prospect of seeing or hearing something unfamiliar makes me kind of giddy, and Ireland didn't disappoint.

So many birds, everywhere. Some I recognized from stories, some I had seen on nature documentaries in the past, and some were new to me, if not exactly a rarity in their home country. Driving along, one could open a window and hear them singing. I bought a book to help me name them. I even had a conversation with a rook who either found me personally intriguing or thought I had food, who knows.

I will probably never be the kind of person who travels somewhere just to see a new kind of bird, but you can guarantee that part of me will always be paying close attention whenever something darts across a patch of sky.

The Roundabout

This deserves to be mentioned on its own. Stoplights are not popular in rural Ireland from what I can tell. Instead, welcome to the roundabout.

...

I have too many mixed feelings about this, I don't think I can talk about it.