Happy Birthday

to me, happy birthday to me! 35th birthday at that. I guess one of these days I'll start acting completely grown up. But probably not.

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I think I want a tattoo for my birthday. Hmm, next day off is Friday, maybe? Looks like a trip to Gonzales for me. T is not thrilled with the idea, even though he just got a new one, goes from his shoulder to his elbow, big enough to hide the scar from the railroad spike. I've got one, he has 3 and yet he is worried about me turning into a tattoo addict???? I'm getting one just gotta decide when, where and what. (I've got 2 or 3 that I want, trying to decide which one first)

Shadow's eyes

(Wade's post Cipher cafe reminded me of this)


...forward from - Standing in the Shadow...
You have seen me before, in the spotlight given off by the street lamp at the corner or perhaps in the darker corner of some café. Not the menace of some stalker, just some stranger reading the paper or waiting for a bus. Or perhaps it was down in New Orleans, near the French Market on Decatur Street. When the July sun was so hot, it bleached the colors from your sight. The heat in the air coming off the street seemed to scorch away all your familiar landmarks. Gone were the shades and hues that shaped your world. In front of you other pedestrians were simply another obstacle to avoid. I was there, off to the side, standing in the shadow, taken to pause by the stories unfolding before me . . .
Maybe I wasn't just reading the sports page or waiting for the bus, maybe this is where your character stumbles across the pages of this book I'm reading; a bit part in the Great Play on Life. A full dress rehearsal where you go home each night and review how to be a better actor because tomorrow you will be on stage, again. Me, I am the guy in the audience. I'll be here at the Café du Monde, drinking coffee and eating fresh biegnet, applauding some acts and critiquing others, . . . and trying to make sense of the scenes.
When you have had enough of this hustle and bustle, when you step into the shade to catch your breath, with a half smile and a gesture toward my now empty chair, I will walk away. Somewhere, someone is writing a book I want to read . . . but for now, I'll stand over here . . . in the shadow.
the author


another piece from Shadow. I have always enjoyed seeing the world through another's eyes. Especially someone I know, or think I know, well. There is something lonely about this piece but it's a satisfied loneliness. He chose to remain apart, slipping through the cracks in the world. I am, to a point, the same way. A little more social but on my terms. Other than the people I have to deal with at work and T, I haven't spoken to anyone for a few days. I've lived inside my own head, watching the world continue its mad scurrying without allowing myself to be dragged along. Nothing is wrong, I just want to be apart. That's the nice thing about being a shadow. Unremarkable and unnoticed, I slip away