Dennis

I love small indie movies like this. This one does a fantastic job of garnering empathy and exposing depth on a character type that is typically cast aside as an ogre, goon, or background muscle.

Dennis is an introverted body builder who finally works up the courage to ask a girl out and go out on date with her despite guilt trips by his mother.

Obamas Speech at the Nobel Prize Ceremony in Oslo

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The Future Is Here

I failed ...

... my English paper. You think the teacher was too hard on me?

(Click the Full Screen link for better view)

It seems this essay was written while the guy was high, hilarious!

Sick Mashup

Like Kelly said, "It's the ish."

I'm sorry Burger King but I'm not a part of this team.

How it feels ...

A true story by Andrew Thompson

How do you adequately describe something that takes less five seconds to unfold? One event that changes how you view life and leaves you wondering how and why it happened, let alone, surviving, walking away and even playing sports the next day? Its 4:30 AM and I am awake to drive to Malaysia to play at least 18 holes of golf and possibly 36. I am concerned about playing 36 because later that night there is a "relaxed wear" party following the APEC Summit convention. What is "relaxed wear" when Obama is in the area, there are some US Embassy officials around, and at the very least some minor political figures to be at the party. I can figure this out later, for now, I have to find my golf wear, prepare the water bottles, sun screen, towels, passport, malaysian ringitt, etc. Not too mention, my mind is waundering with the fact I need to get fuel because it is illegal to cross the border with less then 3/4 tank full of gas. Nevermind, off to the shower.

Its 5:07 AM and I am in my car to go pick up my friend, Wee Seong. Wee Seong is actually more of an acquaintence, the brother in law of a friend of work, whom we will play golf with later. II have played golf with Wee Seong before; he's a pretty cool cat so small talk should be no problem. His condo is less than 1/8 mile from mine, so he's an easy get. However, I am supposed to be there at 5:15 - I am early and decide to go top up my fuel. I return at 5:18 and true to form he is waiting for me. We both know the importance of hitting the border before the morning traffic and to be at the course at 6:30 to change, relax and be the first to tee off. It has been raining, but not since I have been up. I can tell because the ground is still wet. Great, no landing the ball before the green and running on, you have to hit at the glad and hope the ball sticks. This is immensly harder.

5:30 and we are well on the way to the border, however, I miss a turn and head south instead of north; its not a terribly bad mistake (so I thought) as I am able to take the very next exit and get back on the freeway heading in the right direction. The delay probably cost us about 4 minutes, nothing major when crossing the border this early. It is still dark, roads still a darker shade of black due to the rains about an hour ago. Its 5:40 and I pass a sign that reads "Speeding Kills" - one of the 1000's of reminders posted in Singapore. I remember thinking, that speeding doesn't kill; people driving where they shouldn't be cause most accidents. Its very typical for mopeds ands slow trucks to dominate the outer lanes, criss-crossing where they shouldn't be; there vehicles are not even commissioned to do the speed limit

Its 5:42, and I have to navigate a left bend - keep in mind we are driving in Singapore, where we drive opposite my friends in the US. The roads are still somewhat dark with some road lamps that aren't nearly adequate enough - particularly for what I am about to NOT see. Up ahead I notice a small lorry, this is a grey delivery truck, commissioned to travel 70 KM/hr. I remember thnking that lorry is driving way too slow to be in this lane (the fast lane) and I need to get around him so I move left. As I am going down hill, I am traveling at about 90-100 KM/Hr. There are NO hazard lights or warning triangles to warn that he has stalled out. I am not sure he is moving or not.

Seconds later, there is an explosion, my car lifts three feet into the air and is redirected toward the lorry; brakes, wheel turns, just relax, there is nothing you can do about it. You are on an amusement ride controlled by someone else. I hope these seat belts work, I hope that swivel bolt holds, is someone in that lorry, no more time to think.

Glass is flying the at me, and I am blasted worse than when I was a 125 lb 14 year old hit by a line backer while fielding a punt; head up, unsuspecting of the imminent blow. The airbag has hit me, burning my forehead and cinging my shirt. Blood is coming down by forehead and into my eye socket; its warm but emitting slowly. Chest feels wierd, but at the same time, I feel nothing, everything is numb and I have to look at my body to make sure everything is where it was this morning. My leg and feet have bruises, lacerations and I am resting in glass. My friend is moaning like I have never heard before; he is obviously in serious pain but alive. I ask him if he is alright, focusing is difficult at best. I need to turn off that ringing and turn on my hazards; I turn the key to the off position; good, the ringing has stopped. The dashboard is a mess; the hazard button is no longer attached, it doesn't work. Mirror hanging, wires I have never seen before are exposed, steering wheel is in my lap, glass everywhere. I can no longer see the lorry; the hood and broken windshield are blocking my view.

Trying to make sense of it all. "What did I hit?" I ask. Wee Seong says "the Lorry dropped a brick" - still moaning. We call our friends, but they are already across the border - "we won't make it, we've been in an accident." "yeah go on ahead without us". I am pretty sure he will live now. Someone is running across the street toward us. I try to open my door, its jammed shut. I tell my friend that we need to get out before we are rear ended; he stays there for what seems like 5 minutes. The kid who ran across the street asks if we are ok, and I ask is anyone in the lorry? "No", he says. Later I find out he was the driver.

We managed to get out through the passenger door and I am walking around on the freeway to see what I hit; I am unaware of more danger - I mean what else could possibly happen to me. I find no bricks, no sign of what I hit. The lorry driver is trying to warn others who are honking, flashing lights, I begin to feel worse. Somoeone tells me to get out of the freeway; for some reason I comply but I have no idea why. I go back to my friend, he is having difficulty breathing. The airbag must have gotten him good; he says my head is swollen and bloody; I feel nothing. I take some pics and wait for the police. Then I notice the smoking gun. Its a rim, beat to crap and severe scratches from being slid on the road. I take another look at the lorry. Its right front side is unusually lower than the left; the Lorry had been driving with a flat tires, the tire came off the rim and then the rim came completely off the truck. I think the lorry driver must have been driving a while like this; at any rate, the lorry was definitely not maintained and dropped its rim. The rim had caused my car to lift into the air and redirect my car. There was nothing I could do, it was the same color has the poorly lit street - I never saw it

About 45 minutes later an ambulance shows up; my friend is transported to hospital and I refuse treatment. I feel fine just a bit tense; they clean my wounds and put some bandages on. I have to wait for the police to show and my insurance investigator and the leasing company. Nearly 4 hours later I leave the scene in another leased car. Later I find out that Wee Seong has 3 fractured ribs and has to stay in the hospital for two days. He is currently on two weeks medical leave. The doctors ask me to come in because I probably have internal injuries. No pee in the blood, I can walk around, just don't do any sit ups, I am ok. Besides I have to play ball tomorrow. We have important games to decide playoff seeding. No time to wait inside a hospital. I went 6-8 at the plate in a losing effort. Oh well, at least I brought it after being in a life threatening accident the day before.

Its 3:30 AM on Monday morning: i instinctively get out of bed the nornal way by lifting by upper body with my abs. Bad idea, I suppose I have some cracked ribs or at least heavy bruising. I can't breathe for a few seconds as I stand, and eventually the pain subsides. I pop another 1000 MG of Ibuprofen and back to bed. The next time I remember to get out of bed backwards; it doesn't hurt to bend over, only to stand up straight or use the abs....

I am on the way to the doctor now; although, I don't say I told you so very often, I hope I am right and nothing serious is wrong. I have a flight this weekend to play a tournament in Bangkok....

- Andrew

My Silly Friends

Don't get drunk on Halloween. That's all I have to say about that.

Click on photo for more detail.

Party Pants

P.A!

My shout turns heads. Even in the Golds Gym parking lot where, by virtue of being a part of the gym, people seem required to act cool and aloof. I'm just stoked to see my friend and get a workout in.

We hit the freeweight section and I'm chatty Kathy. The fake tanned fitness contestant is looking at me sideways, probably wondering how this unshaven neanderthal who she has only managed to elicit gurnts or single syllable greetings from for the past 2 years is suddenly speaking in complete sentences. Multiple sentences. About heavy stuff like infinite loops, women, fights, & movies. And who is this poor man's Billy Baldwin responsible for this transformation?

Paul, mutherfukin' Arrington that's who! He wanted to get his legs in shape for ski season so we're meeting at Gold's twice a week. The other 3 days I'm doing Yoga.

So yeah, ArdAtak's back.

Boxes Inside Boxes

I recently had to write a piece of software that calculated the most efficient way to pack boxes (products) inside bigger boxes (boxes). It seems simple enough but as we zoomed in on the scope I realized that much of the spacial engineering that we, as humans, do so effortlessly is very difficult to program into a computer.

I remember how much pride my dad used to take in packing the trunk just right on those family vacations. Which suitcase goes in first? Do you lay it flat or stand it on it's side? Is it better to stack these 2 on top of each other or side by side? What about those skis that had to go in at an angle? What about that bit of left over space on the left that I can't fit anything into? Now imagine you have dozens of parts and dozens of boxes to choose from and you have to figure out how to pack those parts into into the least number of boxes and do it most efficiently by using the smallest boxes possible. Now write a software that does it. Yeah ... not so easy.

This was further evidenced by the fact that when we decided to just buy an off-the-shelf software for the project, we still couldn't find a practical solution. One guy on my team said if I manage to pull this off we can all go into a new line of business.

I built the back end data structure that stored all the product info (Length, Width, Height, Weight, etc.) and also the available boxes (Length, Width, Height, Weight Capacity, etc.). Next, I built a test harness where you could quickly add a bunch of parts to your cart and hit a button to run the Boxing process. It was my first 100% object oriented app. I've been demo'ing the harness for managment, IT, and warehouse peeps around here and everyone loves it.

One warehouse guy came up and gave me a fist bump after the demo. I guess that's why I do what I do. Once every few years you build something that matters to someone. You get to see them smile and you get some appreciation.

Stone Walls

My buddy Colin took these photos in Italy.

Click on photo to see full size version.

... more dreams ...

Our 2 bedroom rental has over 30 people in it.
I only know the 4 I came with.
So it all came to a head.
I called him out and he snapped back.

Admit it Ardi ... you're just as shitty as I am when it comes to letting them go.

I wither.

I never let her go. I'm just not as clingy as you.

Old Man's Tale

My mother told me to never pick up hitchhikers
but the old man seemed harmless and desperate
besides, can you really call it hitchhiking if it's in a boat?

I fiddled with the radio
no reception in this gulf
can I try? he asked meekly
knock yourself out old man
he found a muffled am station
a sad acoustic guitar spilled out the speakers
he smiled, this is a song from my youth
I pondered how many decades old the song was
what does it remind you of? I asked

I was was warrior once, he said
I remember long travels
being in love
fighting men
the pretty girl with blue eyes
long flat roads of my home land
his hands shook as he adjusted the tuner
the sun crept west


where are you headed?
you can drop me off at Quinault Bay

got any kids?
2, how about you?
same, but they left me a long time ago
somwhere up north with their mother

what's takin' you to Quinalt?
my old partner lives there


we rode in silence
the horizon put me in a trance
blue white blue yellow

I help him off the boat
he feels lighter than he looks
he smiles and shakes my hand

I knew your father
he was a good man
I don't ask how
I don't ask why
thanks
tell him Joseph Griff said hi
I will

As I'm idling back to sea I glance back at the land
the old man's gone
the beach is empty

Hoova Represents

I love the soundtrack and editing in this montage.

Watch more videos of Halo 3

Halo Movie

Rumor has it Steven Spielberg is negotiating with Microsoft for the rights to create a Halo movie. It was initially going to be produced by Peter Jackson and Neil Blomkamp. This is what their mini halo movie looked like. I'm curious if Spielberg can do better.

Got Beats?

Celebrating a decade of funk. Where were you 10 years ago?

Me? I was living on Juanita Beach with Jen (no kids) and taking trips to Ibiza (Chris B & Lee) and Cancun (Chris E & Ian). 9pm, Heaven Scent, and R2D2 were the big anthems.

Matty and I played in our first tourney together.

Showbox as we remember it was in it's infancy.

I done told you once already ... Kenny is the man !!!

... and before you judge, just remember, it's the eggrolls, not the extacy.

Happy Birthday Troy

Meeting some friends and family out tonight to celebrate Troy's birthday. Tomorrow we're spreading his ashes. Hopefully if I kick it hard enough tonight I can be nice & numb by then. I miss you bro.

Kenny Powers ...

... is the man!

Haunted By Black & Gold

What is is about the Black & Gold color scheme that tugs at me so strongly? To me it represents, fun in the sun, durability, & water resistance. Here are my Black and Gold belongings:

Nissan xTerra:


Jose Quervo Net:


Northface Ski Coat:


Samsung Rugby Phone:


Rio Cali MP3 Player:


Connair Chopper Clippers:


Head Blade Razor:

Happy Fathers Day

I love you dad.



He leans back from his desk,
rubs the back of his neck,
the stress takes effect.
Grips the bridge of his nose,
squints while he's showin' emotion he normally won't.
At fifty six, he re-evaluates,
possibly regrettin' some decisions that he's made.

Black is turnin' gray,
patches of his age,
reflectin' from the glasses,
a pass of every page.
Passionately day reads, readin' on occasion
Dreamin' of the day when he could do the same thing

He's always wanted to write,
that's all he's wanted in life.
With two daughters, a son, and a remarkable wife.
He's in a bind,
he has to provide.
A family is relyin' on him merely to survive.

His father died at fifty six,
so he's well aware how vital a father figure is.
How big of a responsibility it is,
to be a good husband and care for your kids
Never miss an event, helpin' them with homework.
Discipline to prevent things when they're older.

His only son is only twenty one,
and focus as a poet has only just begun.
Papa isn't dumb, he understands what this means.
His dream is my dream, my dream is his dream.

I close my eyes and I can see
The sacrifices he made for me.
Put it aside for his family
So I'ma keep it alive.

And so he targeted to be the dream guardian.
Guarding it from anything and anyone who's harming it.
But in his heart he knows the hardest thing about it is
givin' up on his dream to be all about his kids.

As he kisses the lips of the Mrs.
for twenty four years, goin' on the twenty fifth.
He thinks to himself, this alone is the wealth
That's greater then what's bought and what's sold on the shelf.

Sometimes a dream is all that we have
we have to continue to dream.
'Cause once it is lost amongst other thoughts
Then what really are we? What are we?

I close my eyes and I can see his dream
The sacrifices he made for me.
Put it aside for his family.
So I'ma keep it alive.

So he sits back at his desk
Crackin' his knuckles and back of his neck
Faxin' a paper displaying his name
On another application explainin' the main
things they should know but the things that they don't
are the things that distinguish him as an adult
and over the phone he can never expose
the roll that he chose, the roll in his home.

And at home he's a leader, a father.
He'll prove it by usin' his son and his daughters.
In their life he'll be playin' the part of
the one who inspires, the one we admire.

His only son is only twenty one
and focus as a poet has only just begun.
Papa isn't dumb, he understands what this means.
His dream is my dream, my dream is his dream.

I close my eyes and I can see
the sacrifices he made for me.
Put it aside for his family.
So I'ma keep it alive.

- Asher Roth

Halo's Render to Film Beta

Bungie has added a new render to film feature to their existing online fileshare system. It's amazing technology. Here are a few clips from some recent games I was in.

OK Coral
Go into room. Kill everyone. Exit Room. Simple Right?



Extermination
They say it's good strategy to stay close to your teammates. Oh Really?



Acrobatic Lazer
So what's a fella supposed to do when strolling in the desert and a warhog tries to run you over?



Kamikaze
We needed 2 kills to win so I turn Keith into a Kamikaze walking bomb as he charges 2 enemies in a bubble shield.



Jack Move
Sometimes the easiest way to get rid of those pesky warthog drivers is to get in the passenger seat and beat them down.

There's a new Sherriff in town

So I'm icing my back on the couch and Max comes up and punches me so hard in the stomach that he knocks the wind out of me. I fall on the floor and after I catch my breath I lay back down on the couch but I'm a little more weary of him. The next time he attacks I'm ready and I instinctively flex my abs, pulling something in the process. I wake up the next day and it's still sore.

I knew he'd kick my ass some day but I figured it would be around 14, not 4 !

I'm in trouble

So I'm driving home from the beach and as I pull into the driveway I see Riley sitting in her little lawn chair and enjoying a solitary snack as she's prone to do sometimes.

She's wearing a summer dress with knee high black boots and has her hair & makeup done from an earlier photo shoot at her dance studio. I could see all the dirty little teenage versions of myself that will be knocking on my door soon and all I had was this simple singular thought as I hit the garage door opener:

I'm going to jail.

Wine Glass Holder for Special Ed Students

Absentminded lushes rejoice: Never again will you have to wander around a dinner party wondering, "Where did I set down my wineglass?" With the handy Wine Glass Holder Necklace, your glass will always be right where you can find it -- suspended in front of your chest.

Just clip the glass's stem to the plastic holder and you'll have both hands free to raid passing hors d'oeuvres trays with a vengeance. But be wary of sudden, erratic movements, as the holder puts your glass in dangerous proximity to your shirt, making dry-cleaning bills a common hazard. To avoid fashion faux pas, you should probably wear this accessory only with ensembles that include a fast-drying burgundy shirt and black pants. The Wine Glass Holder Necklace consists of a piece of plastic that fits around the stem of a wine glass, and a nylon lanyard that goes around your neck.

Hate You Guys

So I decided to go on a hike with some friends this Saturday. Riley's softball game got cancelled and I knew the weather would be too crappy for v-ball so I got up early Saturday morning and headed to the usual meeting spot for all EWA trips ... the Factoria QFC.

I was starting to feel good about myself. Having the discipline to stay off the beach and give my back a break was a good idea. Then I get greeted with the following voice mail from Colin.

Hey Ardi it's Colin. I got your voice mail. Hey man, I'm really glad you're coming but I just wanted you to know that this isn't some fun hike like we normally do. This is a training hike for Rainier. It's pretty gnarly. Just wanted you know that. See you at QFC. Peace.

I called Adam.

Hey dude. I this hike pretty tough? Colin actually went out of his way to call me and warm me about it..

He laughs.

It's not any harder that the hike we did from Kelly's Cabin. Just a lot longer..

We all meet up at QFC and head out. B-Sack decides to cary a 35 Lb pack for better training. I guess they'll be haulin' 60 up Rainier. I don't know how B-Sack made it up there since I was struggling with just a camel back and couple of sandwiches in my pack. After the 1st mile we get our second wind and talk about Halo the rest of the way. The conversation makes it easier.

Anyway, Colin blasts his way to the top in no time with his giant stride and top notch cardio. When I finally make it to the top he asks me how I liked the hike.

Hate you guys.

Everybody laughs.

We eat for 30 minutes and head down since it's getting very cold and wet. Going down was even more work. I was using my legs and making sure no jarring or compression made its way to my spine. It seemed easier than going up but every time we stopped my shaking legs assured me otherwise. Adam and I talk about V-Ball on the way down and once again, the conversation makes things easier.

In the end I'm glad I did it and didn't hurt myself. B said if you tell anyone you did mailbox under 5 hours you deserve some props.

Payin' Dues

I wish injuries were like financial loans and you could pick & choose when you paid them off.


I'd like to put this injury on hold and pay if off in the fall please.

Certainly Sir. Would you be interested in 5 cc's of Cortisone.

I'm not sure. What's the interest rate on that?

High Sir. Very High.

Motivational Poster

Funny Pic I converted into a poster from Memorial Day in San Diego. Starring Matt, Steve, & Ben. Glad I'm not in it.

Click on Photo for full size view.

Another one bites the dust

Colin d'Hondt & Gayle Chonzena are getting married.

Yup, the pretty girl in the Salmon dress and the Viking with the 8 pack are tying the knott. Two of my best friends and closest confidants are getting hitched.

I hope they get married somewhere exotic so me and the crew will have another excuse to travel together.

P.S. Sorry fellas. The hottie in the middle is mine.

My Life Be Like Oooh Aaah

My buddy Chad Lyons, the tallented photographer and proprietor of SnapJacker.com was cruising Alki when he came across Toombstone and I lowering the boom on some poor victims. It was a good day. Biggest tournament ever at Alki. Teams came from Oregon, Washington, and BC. We won a few and lost a few. We played good but good's not good enough aginst the best from the NW if you wanna make the finals.

For the full gallery check out: www.SnapJacker.com

My Best Friend Chief

By Kelly Kortman

It was May of 2001, I was engaged to a nice wholesome PLU grad named Suzanne and living in my condo in Newcastle with a roomate Joey Rodriguez. We were all very good friends, we were all young (or younger) and broke and we one hot summer Sunday in May came to the conclusion that we needed a dog in our lives. We picked up a newspaper and looked through it for lab puppies. It was never our true intention that day to buy a dog, we just wanted to go and look at some labs and maybe play with them and pretend we were interested and then go back to doing what we did best at the time which was to have barbeques and drink..... a lot. We found an ad for lab/golden retriever mix puppies for $125 dollars. It was in Kirkland so we headed out. We arrived at the door and the guy opened the garage and there they were, 8 adorable 6 week old pups in a mix of black, tan and chocolate.

He wasn't a breeder, it just turned out that his female golden retriever got knocked up by the black lab male a few doors down. His goal was simply to find a good home for the puppies, he wasn't in it to make a profit, just wanted to get back the money he spent on shots, dewclaws and puppy chow that he had been shilling out for 6 weeks. We put all the puppies out in the yard and said, "Well if we are going to get a puppy let's get the one that comes to us first." One of the black puppies came darting right for us all giant paws and happiness and excitement. It was love at first sight for all of us. We could not drive down that driveway without leaving with that little guy. As it turned out he was our destiny and as it turned out I was his. We were all so broke at the time that we literally all pitched in for him (at least as it pertained to the purchase price, the rest going forward would of course fall on me.) $41 dollars a piece, that was the deal. We brought him home and I swear to God he was the smartest most intuitive dog that any of us have ever seen. He was housetrained in a week, could sit and stay and give paw in a month, initially learned how to roll over and then forgot, learned how to speak in about 5 minutes. I said, "you want a treat, go woof" And he literally went, "woof". And from then on he could "speak" on command.

Chief travelled everywhere with me, he was my nonstop companion from day 1. Immediately we had a bond that I'm not really sure I've ever had in my entire life. The weeks turned into months, Joey moved back to where he was from down in Santa Cruz, he bought all my furniture off of me with a promise to send payment for it when he got settled. He never did, fine with me, he had no intention of taking Chief, that was all I cared about. I maybe talked to him one more time, I have no idea where he is now, my guess is up to no good. I was a trainee at Morgan Stanley at the time that I got Chief and money was tight to say the least, they pay you just enough that you don't starve to death. Things were going OK with my girlfriend Suzanne, not great and I think we both knew that we were headed towards a break up. She had a Golden Retriever of her own named Eugene who peed all over himself whenever people would come over. He would roll over on his back and piss himself silly. If you were unlucky you would lean over to pet him and he would pee on you also. So that said when we broke up she had no intention of taking Chief with her either. So as we parted ways Chief was left in my sole custody. There were no battles in that regard. I would find out later that Eugene would die of cancer, it was sad to hear that. They spent thousands themselves trying to save him to no avail. It's amazing the things that we will do for our dogs.

August came and I was at my wits end with Morgan Stanley. I hated working there, it was the end of the summer in 2001, I knew that I needed to move on, I knew that I was going off of salary and I knew that I was going to go from starving to death to literally having to shoplift at costco or something. So I up and quit. It wasn't but two weeks later that September 11th occured. Morgan Stanley had their major operations at the World Trade Center. They were toast in more ways then one, the market was closed, their back office operations were destroyed, thousands of financial advisors flooded the street looking for work and I just so happened to, preemptively, land safely into a cushy little job as a financial advisor working in a bank for WaMu Investments. Higher payout, clients walk right in the door with $400k and a dumbfounded look on their face as if to say, "Please invest this for me." My life was changing. Had I waited but two more weeks Lord knows where I would be today, the world works in mysterious ways.

Meanwhile as the towers burned and collapsed I called Suzanne and we commiserated. We decided to spend the day together with Chief. I know that it's hard to remember now but I think that we all had a feeling that day that it was the end, or the beginning of the end or the beginning of something terrifying. F-15's cruised through the Seattle sky looking for rogue airplanes that needed to be shot down, every television everywhere played the collapse of towers one and two over and over and over again. We walked to a beautiful park in Greenlake, it was the most beautiful day that I may ever have seen. For those of us who lived in Seattle on that day and remember that afternoon we know that it was spectacular from a weather standpoint, not a cloud in the sky. Just jets.....patrolling.

Chief ran around the park in all his puppyish glory. Running up to strangers, kissing them, panting, excited and happy and stopping more than one person on that day from crying, if only for a moment. It was on this day that I learned the true meaning of ignorance being bliss. The grass was green, the trees were just ever so slightly turning color, the water echoing the color of the sky was as blue as blue can be. Chief in his prime soaked up the glory of the day, 10,000 years of dog and man commingling has not led us to a point where they have grasped the concept of human tragedy and yet they can lift us up in an instant like nothing else except perhaps God or a best friend or a parent.

Suzanne and I reconciled on September 11th as many of us did with somebody, anybody. Who wanted to be alone after that or who wanted to hold a grudge after that, thousands died that day unexpectedly and I don't think that anybody wanted to continue to dislike anybody needlessly.

My job took me to Bainbridge Island and Poulsbo. Places that I had driven through on my way to the coast or where I would take dates if I wanted to do something really different. Shortly thereafter I simply moved over there, the commute from Newcastle to Bainbridge was ridiculous. I moved out of my condo, rented it out and found a small cabin for rent on 5 acres for 800 bucks a month. It was about 700 square feet but it had everything that I needed. I was about 80k in debt at the time with my credit cards and it was, for me, the perfect price in light of all the uncertainty that swirled around my new job and the post 9-11 stock market.

Everyday that I came home Chief seemed to grow just a little bit more. He grew into a massive and yet slightly holy terror. He ate every tree and plant in the yard of the cabin I rented sending my landlord into an unstoppable piss-fest. Every time that she came to pick up the rent check she would mention that my security deposit was a mere forgone conclusion. I came home one day to find that he had eaten my mountain bike helmet. There was little this dog would not chew on. Suzanne tried her hardest to make this Bainbridge Island, South Seattle thing work out but slowly and surely it began to fail again. She left my life as a leaf leaves a tree in the fall, hardly noticeable, scattered among the debris. I don't question her love for Chief but she had bigger fish to fry. So did I. She moved on, when she left, she left us both, didn't even bother to ask for her $41 dollars back. I always respected her for that.

It was March of 2002. Things were normalizing and I was finally hitting my stride. I was doing huge numbers at work and making the big bucks for the first time in my life. It was very exciting, I was putting in long hours at work and Chief spent a lot of that time neglected sadly but he was the perfect dog. Never peed in the house, rarely ate anything larger than a couch and just the best thing in the world to come home to at the end of a 12 or 14 hour day. How a mangy wolf evolved into a siken haired black lab with a never ending array of love in his heart I have no idea. There is a saying about how a dog is lucky to know it's God while it is still alive. I think there is something to be said for that. If I loved God the way that Chief loved me I would venture to guess that my life might be just about as untroubled as his, tragedy aside.

It was a Saturday afternoon right around both of our birthday's his first and my 34th. I woke up that day, strode to the kitchen to make coffee and he, for some reason, jumped up and put his paws on my shoulder. I remember saying to myself, "You are the most perfect and beautiful dog that I have ever seen in my life." He was 100 pounds, pure black, hair longer than a lab but shorter than a retreiver, intelligent eyes, big head, perfectly amazing in every way. A supermodel of a dog. I loved him more than life itself. As a birthday treat I decided to take him for a jog. We headed down a usually desolate dirt road that leads to a lake (Lake Gazzam). He was on the left side of the road I was on the right, he stopped to take a leak, I continued forth, I saw a car emerge from a driveway, picking up steam, Chief finished his business and ran across the road, I saw it happen before it tragically did and then it, well, happened. The car hit Chief going about 40 miles per hour. Chief flew about 40 feet, the front bumper flew about twenty, I couldn't bear to look. I knelt to the ground and covered my eyes with my forearm and I just stayed there unable to move. I knew he was dead, I was devastated in the way that a parent is devastated at the loss of a child. I sat there silently picturing in my mind what I would find some 13 yards away and then I felt this wet nose on my neck. I looked up and there was Chief. He had ambled back over to me but something wasn't right. He was dragging his front left leg. It was limp and lifeless. I prayed it was merely broken. I made the guy who hit him give me a drive to my house probably about two miles away. He obliged. I transferred Chief from his car to mine, ran into the house to get my keys and told him to hang out so that I could get his information. I ran back out and he was gone. I could have found the driver again cause I knew what driveway that he had come out of but I never bothered, there wasn't much that could be done, it was just as much my fault as his for not having Chief on a leash and I heard that I could have maybe been just as liable to the damage that had been done to his car.

I raced Chief to the Vet. I panicked at every stoplight, I had no idea what the extent of his injuries were, he could have been bleeding internally for all I knew. I arrived at the clinic, parked poorly and gently speed walked him into the front door. They took him immediately and ran a bunch of tests and x-rays. He was perfectly fine, he just wasn't moving his front leg. It wasn't broken at all, the Dr. said that he would, over time, probably be fine, that perhaps his leg just hurt to the point that he was trying not to move it at all. I had high hopes in that moment, I was still in the denial phase of the mourning process. Just as we were getting ready to head home the Dr. said, hey, wait a minute, I want to try one last thing. I literally already had Chief in the back of the truck when he came out with a simple baby pin in his hand. He began to poke Chief's leg up and down with the pin......nothing. No reaction. He then poked him in his good front leg, he flinched, gave a small yelp. He pricked the other leg, continued lack of reaction. He poked all the way up to the shoulder and finally got a reaction but the leg didn't move. He told me the news I didn't want to hear. The leg was paralyzed, dogs legs go back and forward, they do not go side to side, when he got hit his leg got whipsawed in the wrong direction and snapped his nerve in half. He did give me that 1% chance that it was merely temporarily paralyzed due to trauma and could return. But it was a long shot. I asked about quality of life and he assured me that three legged dogs do great. I didn't want to have a dog that couldn't do the things that a dog needs to do, to well...... be a dog. But he continued to insist that despite the possiblity of a shorter life-span that he would be just fine.

I took Chief home and babied him like crazy. Gave him leg massages to try to restimulate the nerves if they were still lying dormant. Gave him treats and table food and baths and whatever else I thought that I could to make him better. Whereever he went though he continued to drag that leg around. Time marched on and lo and behold in a couple of weeks he was feeling really quite well. He was even running around a bit but of course the leg just flopping around. I bought him a special shoe I found online for sled dogs so that he wouldn't continue to abrade his paw as it dragged along the ground. It kinda worked although the shoe fell off a lot. A month went by and still no feeling and no movement. I knew that sooner or later the sore that was developing on his paw would get worse and worse until it became infected and probably killed him so it was, sadly, time for the leg to go.

I consulted with the Dr. and he agreed to do the surgery even though he had only done one before while in medical school. He said that as part of his recurrent training he would discount the surgery down to about $1500 dollars. Normally it was well over $2000. Of course having a novice, dog leg remover kinda made me nervous, I needed all the cost savings I could get as I was still digging out from quite a bit of debt, etc. I brought him in for the surgery. I prayed on the way there that all would go well. I had to go to work that day but went to go and see him afterwards. I walked through the door, through the waiting area and down a hall to a set of "recovery cages" It was one of the saddest things I had ever seen. My once perfectly glorious dog from just a month earlier was reduced to a kind of Franken-dog. He was shaved over a wide area of his body. He was missing an appendage and had what seemed like a thousand stiches and staples. The way that he was sewed back together gave him a little man boob where all of the areas of stiches came together, he was restrained and attached to tubes. He did not look happy but he recognized me immediately and tried to get up as if to say, "Hello, get me the hell out of here, what have they done to me and where is my frickin' hair and um my frickin 'leg." I wanted to cry. But being the strong, silent type in the most serious of situations I kept a level head. I opened the cage door where he was being kept and scratched his ears. He just lay there and looked at me with those big, brown, sad eyes. After about 10 minutes the Dr. came around and told me how the surgery went, that Chief would be staying with them for a couple of days, that I could come around and see him if I wanted to but that he was being taken good care of. All the girls in the clinic had of course fallen in love with him and his personality and disposition. I knew he was in good hands. I walked out of the clinic feeling just about every emotion that you could imagine, sad, despondent, responsible, callous for not getting a sleeping bag out of the car and staying with him. One day I imagine I might have to leave a child in the hospital overnight, I can't imagine the feeling might be much worse.

Alas, the day finally came to take him home. I packed him into the car with all of his bandages and medications, painkillers, antibiotics, etc. We made it back to the house. I layed him on the couch and he slept for what seemed like an eternity. Dogs in kennels bark all night long for whatever reason, probably didn't give him a lot of time to rest. Watching him lying there on the couch all bandaged up was difficult but at least he was home where he belonged.

It was tough for a while there, I was working a ton and would hire kids from the neighborhood to come and keep an eye on him from time to time. The days slowly turned into weeks, the staples came out, the hair slowly began to grow back in, the man boob slowly disappeared into his fur and he learned how to get along on just three legs just fine. Pretty soon he was back to being my full on running partner and whereever he went he was the talk of the town. If I had a nickel for every time I heard the phrase, "Mommy, that dog only has three legs!".

Weeks turned into months, things were getting better and better for me financially. I finally bought my first house. Chief and I moved into it and continued to live life. Chief by this point was just as fast as any other dog, almost to the point where I would say, "Man that fourth leg served to do nothing but slow him down!" Despite the series of fences that I had built to keep Chief from running away he would still find a loophole from time to time to sneak out and roam around the neighborhood. He slowly over time became part of the scenery and had any number of people giving him treats and letting him hang out at their house. There was one family in particular where he would go because there were always a ton of kids playing there and they had a couple of dogs that somehow Chief must have recognized as his "pack". So whenever he would escape my Byzantine array of fences I would find him there, chilling, playing with the kids or the dogs. It did make my job easier when he ran away to know where he would be. I can't recount how many times I recall picking him up to put him in the car, his belly wet from the quick ocean dip he would take on his way over there and of course I was usually wearing a suit and a tie and was either on my way home from work or on my way to work and of course I would get soaked. I always wondered too if he really couldn't jump into the back of the car or if he just knew I would do it so he stopped trying.

I started to take Chief everywhere with me again. Hiking, camping, to the beach where he of course became a phenomenal three legged swimmer. He remained a very powerful dog with super powerful hind legs that perhaps got that way because of the extra work that they were doing. He loved everybody and everybody loved him. He learned to do this thing where he would lay down on that missing shoulder with his butt in the air and his head looking up at you as if to say, "Pet my belly but I'm not really interested in going all the way onto my back for you, it's too hard to get back up." He served as an inspiration not only to me but to many people that he would come into contact with. He was an inspiration to me because he taught me that you should never be held back by whatever handicap it is that you might have. Whether it's a missing leg or what have you you just have to keep moving forward because what other choice do you have? One girl that I would hire to "babysit" him from time to time actually wrote a poem about him for a school project. Later I would hear from her as she entered her twenties that he had the same effect on her as well. It's so easy to feel sorry for ourselves until we find someone or something that has it worse than us while at the same time having a better attitude, better disposition or a better life.

People would marvel at his speed and endurance and disposition. I would marvel at his ability to overcome and the fact that he never took the time to feel sorry for himself. If there is one human trait that I wish didn't exist it's that. Whenever I was having a bad day or wasn't able to close the big deal or whatever the case might be I came home to the most loving animal on the planet who didn't care what my accomplishments were, so long as I loved him back and gave to him what he gave to me, everpresent friendship and companionship and love. He was there for all of the ups and downs of my life. The newfound love that had just walked into my world or yet another relationship coming to an end. He gave them all a chance, he never judged them and where he had taught me so much about so many other things I guess the one thing that I never did learn from him is patience and forgiveness and a better sense of understanding. And yet he was and has been the one constant in my life throughout this last fourth of my life.

More time went by, we moved into an even bigger house. The stock market roiled upwards, everything was going very well. I was taking flying lessons and doing all the things in life I had always dreamed of doing. At the top of the stock market I bought a cabin out in Leavenworth. By this time also, Chief had a little brother come along, Samson. Samson was a white male Lab and the worst trainwreck of a dog that you could ever imagine but of course that is a story for another day. But it would be Chief and Sam and I heading out to the mountains every weekend to go and work on the cabin. It was that fall of 2007 when I was constantly taking Chief in and out of the Defender that I noticed that he was starting to get very apprehensive about jumping out of the truck. I had always put him into the truck but he was always eager to jump out and do whatever it is that dogs do once they are freed from the confines of the back of a vehicle. I of course was clueless at first as to what was going on because of course not only do I see myself as resilient and indestructable but I thought Chief was as well. I guess that I just assumed that he would pass away silently in his sleep at age 15 after having spent the day chasing rabbits around a golden field in an act of futility. But what I didn't realize is that all those years of overusing his back legs that he was slowly wearing down his hip joints or perhaps dealing with the age old Labrador issue of hip displasia. In fact there was one weekend where he couldn't even really move or get up and would cry every time that he tried. That was a very sad weekend. By Sunday I would take him to the emergency vet clinic and of course the minute I got him there he was moving around again just fine. The least expensive thing you will ever do is pay for the dog; the vet bills.... totally another story. I paid 1/1000 for Chief what I've spent over time in vet costs and medications. It's pretty amazing to think about. And I know, being a pretty healthy guy with good insurance that his medical costs have outweighed mine by a mile.

So now we are giving him tramadol for pain, novox for the reduction of joint swelling and I just ordered from Amazon.com some omega three and glucosamine infused dog treats. We'll give this a shot. The thing I notice lately is that his front leg is getting a little shaky. He spends more and more time simply lying around. He doesn't want to get up in the morning, I have to drag him out from under the bed and down the stairs to put him outside so that he can go do his thing. I take him for a walk and he has to rest after a block. I from time to time have to leave him up the street after a brief walk, go and get the car and drive him back to the house because he still weighs 90 or so pounds and I can't really carry him. What makes this really sad is that his mind is still the same, I see the light that is on inside, he is the same dog but with none of his former capabilities. His internal organs are without flaw, he still has great muscle tone, his teeth are gleamingly white, his eyes are bright and alert, everything about him is flawless. He just doesn't have much left in the way of mobility.

I pray that this new round of joint supplements does the trick. I would love to keep him around for a long time to come. I always thought that he would be the ring bearer at my low key beach wedding which is pretty much what I'm down to having at this point in my life. I hope he makes it. There is a fine line between keeping a dog alive for the dogs sake and keeping a dog around for your sake. I'm trying to find balance with that line. My friends say that once the front leg goes that I should have him fitted for some kind of dog dolly or something like that. That to me seems almost more cruel than the alternative. Dogs are not meant to scoot around on dolly's. Ok so maybe the puppy born without back legs or what have you but not a 10 year old Lab with three legs, two bad hips and an arthritic, shaky front leg.

When the day comes and that day will come it's going to be one of the most difficult days of my life. I had a pretty difficult childhood, I lost my father at a young age, I had a mom who kind of struggled with that and went off to find herself leaving me to find a way in this world pretty much on my own. My sister moved down to Florida, I went off to the Army in Hawaii, I came back, my sister was married and off raising a family of her own, I had high school friends, then I had Army friends, then I had airline friends and then I fell into a group of buddies up here in Seattle. I guess my point is that although having been blessed to always have people in my life they have not always been the same people. Chief, crazy as it may sound, has been one of the most consistent things in my world all these years.

Raising a dog is like raising a child. You feed them when they are hungry, you bath them when they are dirty, you love them with all your heart and they love you back. You scold them when they are bad, you forgive them and move on. They love you back with all their heart, they are excited to see you every single day as you return home. They follow you around from room to room as you go about your day, they look at you quizically as you do the crazy things that you, as a human, do. Despite their fear of vacuum cleaners, dogs and kids, I would assume, have a lot in common. They are kids that you raise from babies who pass away at the age of 10 or 15 if you are lucky. It makes you wonder why they have such a short life span. Is it to teach us about mortality and loss? I don't know. If God ordained the Universe and created all the laws that make this world work there has to be a reason for this phenomenon.

"I have sometimes thought of the final cause of dogs having such short lives and I am quite satisfied it is in compassion to the human race; for if we suffer so much in losing a dog after an acquaintance of ten or twelve years, what would it be if they were to live double that time?"

-Sir Walter Scott


I will never forget Chief, I will always love him and I will forever be changed for having had him in my life. I feel that he was my destiny and that all of the things we went through - we went through for a reason. I'm a perfectionist and he taught me how to deal with imperfection. He taught me to find beauty in the simple things. He gave me a reason to come home at night when I would have turned my 12 hour day into a 16 hour day otherwise when I was coming up in my new career. He taught me about the true meaning of unconditional love. He led me to many places that I would have never gone had I never bought him. The guilt of ownership took me on many a hike that I wouldn't have taken otherwise. By simply being there he created a situation that no matter how much I tried to isolate myself at times from the world, I was never truly alone. As I type this right now he is laying at my feet, seemingly content with the world. I wonder what he thinks about. Does he know the end is coming? Does he feel sad about it? Is there something instinctually inside of him that tells him that his hips will most likely continue to worsen and not get better. Is he my guardian angel who had come to earth to keep a closer eye on me, is his job almost done for some reason? I don't know. I do have this feeling though that I will hang on till the bitter end and I believe that he will as well. I just don't want to hang on too long and I don't want him to either. For as long as I live though he will never be forgotten and I do not think that he will ever forget me either and if there is a heaven for dogs I know that he will be up there keeping an eye out for me. If there is a singular heaven for man and dogs alike I know that whomever is waiting for me at the end of my life that he will be amongst them and the first to run towards me, fur flying, tongue wagging, eyes filled with happiness and joy as he leaps into my arms knowing that we will be able to spend eternity fetching sticks from a crystal blue river and of course this time he will be swimming out to get them all four legs moving perfectly in time against the water in an effortless motion.

"My goal in life is to be as good of a person my dog already thinks I am."

-Author Unknown



Editors Note:
My greatest memories of Chief are:

1) When he was a tiny puppy and I took him for an early morning swim in Chelan. Once we were about 40 yards offshore he panicked and tried to use me as a life preserver, scratching the fuck out of my back and arms in the process. Luckily Jen was along on that trip. Othewise, explaining all that damage would have been awkward to say the least.

2) When recently and not in the greatest health, he followed the boys, Kelly, and I along with Sampson up a steep mountain behind Kelly's cabin and then, more impressively, somehow slid and banged his way down. I learned a lot about love and perseverance on that climb.

3) When he followed me into a raging Skykomish River and I barely managed to save him & myself with one hand on a slippery rock and the other around his collar.

This part sounds like someone I know:
What makes this really sad is that his mind is still the same, I see the light that is on inside, he is the same dog but with none of his former capabilities. His internal organs are without flaw, he still has great muscle tone, his teeth are gleamingly white, his eyes are bright and alert, everything about him is flawless. He just doesn't have much left in the way of mobility.

Tweet Your Twitter

Ha ha! Something eerily familiar here.

Skill

Skill - noun
1. Adeptness
2. Ability to recreate a scenario consistently

Not what you expected

Might seem like another machinema but there's a nice surprise at the end. Plus it's for a good cause.

Happy Mothers Day

Brave Heart

ONE

MORE

WEEK

The Alpha Male's Burden

Quotes from one of my new favorite authors, PhilaLawer:

...........................................................................................................

Twenty six is a rotten year. You're not an adult by any stretch, but you're way past college jackass. None of the things you really want to say, think or do are acceptable. Every day's another exercise in suffocating what you'd been for the last decade. For some it works; for others it's futile - the live wire of adrenaline you lived on since Junior High can't be unplugged, boxed and stuffed on a shelf. The current in your head builds, relentless, voracious, demanding to be fed. It pitches tantrums while you sit silent, staring at off-white walls and monitors, the low hum of florescent bulbs hissing through your ears. Adjusting's futile; it's too clinical, antiseptic, mechanized - the photographic negative of everything your body's craving. The mind rolls to where you ought to be... On a speedboat rolling through a jungle river, taking notes for a National Geographic article on Nigerian warlords... Driving cross-country in a beaten up Volvo, warm air in your face, stealing a drag from the cigarette of an impossibly built brunette in the passenger seat... Sipping a Heineken and eating crackers, watching the buildings disappear under the wing of a plane to Anywhere But Here. That Ben Harper tune's on repeat in your head... "I believe there's a better way..." Flight, movement, some sort of juice - blessed stimulation of any kind. Is that too much to ask?


Millions of people everywhere sit in cubicles all day, demons clawing up and sliding down and down the half-pipe walls of their skulls, tortured adrenaline junkies trapped by the same thing that had Harris, Martin and me by the balls - short term cash flow. For most of us, the money comes when you're least able to use it the way it ought to be... Twenty years of cash when the old lady's tits are at her knees and you're too tired to fuck anyway. Florida. Golf. A car with heated seats. Then the Big Sleep. The only cure for the pain of twenty six is pussy. A woman's as necessary as water. You don't have to love her. You don't even have to like her. But you need her there, under you, above you, in front of you, grounding the live wire of adrenaline and testosterone. When you're young, losing your mind in an office and not getting any action, you're an unpinned grenade. There's really no reason to live and you don't give a shit about anything. People say college is the chapter in your life where you build the stories you cringe recalling 20 years later. Twenty six and involuntarily celibate kills college... and nearly kills you.


The male doesn't age as we think. In fact, he doesn't age at all. He assimilates, placates and slows, accepts the reality around him and plays what he's told to play. But just a little bit deeper, a scratch below the mask, he's eighteen-to-thirty forever, and every now and again, in the right combination of circumstances, with the right mix of triggers or enticements, that selfish, single minded monkey will break out and escape the cage. And flowing from his greed, gluttony or vice, or a combination of the three at once, a trail of damage will follow. But he'll never be directly blamed. It'll all be collateral damage, the sort of thing that happens when you lock the animal down too tightly, rob him of natural releases.

- PhilaLawer

American Heroes

I saw a back doctor today. I'm taking 3 weeks off from the beach to rehab my back and I was looking for someone to give me a cortisone injection to expedite the healing process. In the waiting room I find myself talking to a fella about my age. He was clearly in extreme agony. Walking and talking was very hard for him.

Turns out he was a commercial diver. His coworker got caught under a mudslide at 200 feet below surface. With a 3000 psi steel tube jet on one shoulder and his partners hand in the other he struggled for 40 minutes under water. Eventually he saved him. However, his back was screwed. He had twisted vertebrae and muscle tear / separation along his back.

The surprise was that this had happened in the Gulf of Mexico about 6 weeks ago and his first Dr. visit was last Friday here in Washington. He had spent the last 6 weeks in complete agony getting bounced around and dicked every which way by the insurance companies.

It's really sad. In the movies when the hero does something like this we just assume that once the ordeal is over he will get the best care possible from the rest of humanity. It's just a given. He risked life and limb to save another human. Can't you hear the emotional background music? ... But not here in good old US of A.

I spent more time today discussing insurance information and payment details than talking about my back. I easily filled out over 20 forms. Why? Just to have a few milliliters of liquid injected into my back. The whole thing could have took 20 minutes. But it took a hour on the phone and 3 in the Dr. office to make it happen.

Dave, my fellow patient. You're a good man. I hope you get the care you deserve and recover soon.

P.S. The Dr. I saw today DID turn out to be excellent and far more thorough and concerned than just about any I have seen so far.

P.P.S. One bright side note to all this injury drama ... They attached a heart monitor to my hand for the injection. They basically treated it like surgery. Anyway, the machine kept freaking out and sounding this annoying alarm. The nurse said it's because my heart rate is so low the machine thinks I'm dying. I'd even had a cup of coffee at work before I went in. She said that most patients are between 70 and 90. A few drop below 60 and NEVER below 50. I craned my neck around and checked out the machine. 45 bpm. I guess all that cardio at the gym in lieu of the beach is paying off. I'll be slow when I get back and I probably won't be able to jump very high. But it's good to know I can run slowly and not jump high all day long thanks to my conditioning.

Troy Duncan

"Anyone feel like rolling with my boy Troy? He's driving solo."

Garrett was leaning his spiky blond head in through Marty's passenger window. I could smell the gum on his breath and cologne on his collar.

Like most 20 somethings in the 90's we were all a little baked and self-conscious; easily comforted by being around those we knew were as screwed up and neurotic as ourselves. The thought of leaving the friendly confines of Marty's Mustang and jumping in a car with a stranger put an abrupt end to our laughter, all of us considering if we really felt like taking a chance on a new character in our current state.

"Sure, I'll go." I said.

"I may not have your movie-star good looks but damnit I'm confident and charismatic." was probably what I was thinking sub-consciously. I figured I could leave Marty and the boys in his ride and meet this new "Troy" character. After all, he can't be too bad if he's meeting up with us to go to a rave.

I hop in the convertible VW and instantly feel the warm glow of one the oldest souls I've ever come across. Troy's inner peace was palpable and I knew we were already friends before I even had a chance to shake his hand or return his smile.

"We're stopping off at DJ's." Garrett said as he smiled and rubbed Troy's brillo head. "Keep an eye on this guy. Make sure he doesn't get lost."

"OK Snoop" I tease him back for needlessly carrying a gun to a rave.

We start chatting on the drive down, mostly covering topics only boys in their early 20's talk about as well as subjects of a more spiritual nature. Like my father, I can read people in seconds. I knew right away that we were cut from the same cloth. We'd be friends forever.

"Have you ever been truly euphoric?"

"I think so."

"I'm truly euphoric right now."

The evening was epic as all raves were in those days as we danced, explored people, and travelled the cosmos. Man could he dance.

This was my introduction to Troy Duncan. One of the most unique and coolest cats I've ever had the pleasure to call my friend. To say that Troy was "Cool" would be a tragically generic understatement. He had deep, true blue, jazz musician confidence as if he was surfing the wave of life - effortlessly carving turns and limping along to the beat of his own built-in I-Pod.

No matter where he was living, I always felt welcome to crash at his pad. I once even brought along 8 other rowdy boys when he and Luke were living in Chelan and they graciously housed us all with no complaints. Another time Matt and I brought the Jens over and crashed at the Duncan mobile home with Kelly and Dave Bartosh.

I remember sitting at Chelan park, basking in the warm summer sun, watching Troy and Luke run their jetski business, and feeling envious of the joy-filled peaceful life he was living.

I remember sitting in the King County Prison visitors room and watching Troy's mother cry as she pressed her palm against the glass, against his palm on the other side, feeling helpless as I held the food and books the guards would not let me give him.

I remember opening night at his club, SuperHighway, fully decorated with his own paintings and artwork. The proud smile on his face. The paintings looked different in a public venue. No longer the pencil sketches I used to flip through in his loft; They were real.

I remember skiing at Chrystal Mountain, catching flicks at the Egyptian, dancing at the Naft, driving to Chelan, Marty's bachelor party, endless nights lost in infinity. It is in these adventures and roller-coaster rides, as you peel away the husks of life, that a man's true character is revealed. You get to size him up and find out if he's truly the warrior he projects. You find out if he's someone you'd want in the foxhole with you. In the jungle. Across the ring.

Know this: He was made of granite.

He had his dark days. Sometimes we'd spend an entire day together and he'd only say a few words. On days like this I could really see the tortured artist living in his soul. Living, struggling, creating, destroying. I didn't care. Comfortable silence is something only true friends can enjoy.

I ran into him at Mo's a few months before Riley was born. I unloaded about how hard it's been living with a pregnant woman. A recent father himself, he expertly broke down how women's minds work when they're pregnant and offered advice on how to deal with them. Man was he good with the ladies.

"A pregnant woman is liquid because she flows. She carves arcs and curves in the vessel she forms. She is moved by the moon."

Later on, after Max was born, we compared notes on fatherhood over a beer at Mr. Lucky's.

"I’m not going to give you any advice."

"What? I just had my 2nd kid and things are getting crazy around the house. I look to you for some Troyism, and you tell me you got nothin'?"

"You are going to get advice from so many people, so take the advice they give you, nod politely, thank them, think about it, and then make your own decision."

The frequency of my interactions with friends has gone down as fatherhood has claimed larger portions of my time and my friendship with Troy was just another casualty as I went from seeing him every week, to every month, to maybe once every few months, and perhaps only a couple of times a year since 2006.

Troy had a good life. He had his ups and downs like the rest of us. At times he had this Andy Warholesque syndrome which made him brilliant and erratic at the same time. Great art comes from great suffering. Through it all, he managed to touch many lives and make the world a happier place floating on his art and his music.

I remember his words ... "It is what it is" ... "Let it go" ... "Pay attention" ... "be true" ... "Be True" ... "BE TRUE"

...

Around the corner I have a friend,
In this great city that has no end,
Yet the days go by and weeks rush on,
And before I know it, a year is gone.

And I never see my old friends face,
For life is a swift and terrible race,
He knows I like him just as well,
As in the days when I rang his bell.

And he rang mine but we were younger then,
And now we are busy, tired men.
Tired of playing a foolish game.
Tired of trying to make a name.

"Tomorrow" I say "I will call on Troy
and let him know that he's still my boy".
But tomorrow comes and tomorrow goes,
And distance between us grows and grows.

Around the corner, yet miles away,
a call from Luke, "Troy died today."
And that's what we get and deserve in the end.
Around the corner, a vanished friend.

- C Towne