Yea! I was so happy to be back home and on the writing site, but it didn't take a week to get my suspicions up and another week or two to confirm them. I had my member fans reviewing some of my poetry, but not my romantic poems or any pertaining to the convention. With the convention related poems, all I felt I got was ridicule and hissy fits until I removed them.

It took about a week, before I couldn't handle the disgrace of compromising myself and allowing what I posted to be influenced by other members; a dangerous precedent to set. I put them back up after their posting time expired, so I wouldn't be bothered by reviews. I also noticed that all of the members weren't responding when I reviewed one of their romantic poems.

Then it seemed to also affect the private message department as well, so for the most part, I was wasting my time writing both letters and expressing interest in how they were doing. Then I asked them to respond and let me know if I have done something wrong; but they didn't respond to that either.

I still communicated with My Favorite Member, but she only responded to certain messages and not others and I felt carefully corralled to pretty strictly petty items that were of no personal interest to me. With each message I pushed the point about me losing my bearings at the site and also demanding to be in the know and to deal with things honestly. It was then a whole host of members stopped dealing with me about anything; being it reviewing my poems, responding to my reviews of theirs or with receiving their responses to my private messages.

To add insult to injury, there was a poem by another member that alluded to the fact it was I who wanted nothing to do with them, so in the review I stated all I wanted with any member or site staff was a little sincerity and honesty. Then I was directed to another one that basically said, "I no longer care." In the past the site's guru responded if I had cares and concerns and for talking in specific terms of members of the site, I received replies of comforting aloofness. This time I got the point black comment of, "I don't know what you are talking about."

Then a series of poems seemed to hit the site of making fun of my situation or letting me know I am more a butt of a joke. I questioned myself about their possible motivations, and the easiest thing that came to my mind was possibly the sites committee was involved, and now had a hand's off order on me.

My next thought I had was very alarming to me, as I now wondered if the site was using this flirting and caring to teach people poetry to the point they gained confidence, became enthused and even would use these false relationships sucker people into posting higher for this seeming approval.

If that thought was true, then they really screwed up with me as before I posted within my meager means, but made sacrifices elsewhere in my life in order to do it, but why should I starve for an illusion of friendship and support?

Now with teaching poetry, the site started offering lessons online at a price with the various committee members teaching them. I thought this was a great idea, but didn't have the money to participate and after the lessons came on line, the site's more positive interactions I experienced seemed to decline in scope as well, intensity and spirit.

I made the decision that I will only earn through reviewing enough credit to post my works at the lowest level. In part was because how the site changed, the loss of all the interactions with its members, as well as my financial situation dictated me to have to be that way. For me to post higher, I wanted to get a few reassurances about how the site operated, but that inquiry wasn't even answered.

It wasn't I who felt a fool, but I felt they were acting foolishly as I could have still put an allowance of $30.00 a week and occasionally more, not to mention to spend the time reviewing. For the site and its members, that meant a loss of over $1,560.00 a year of money coming in to them. I still got the, "I don't care," attitude.

Another disturbing trend on the website was, the romantic poetry that I always loved to review was not only absent, but seemed to changed to what I consider one night stand poetry, which no matter the form, or language usage always translated to, "I found this guy, left him fuck me, and I got what I wanted from him so I dumped his sorry ass." Then I finally got a response from one of my reviews when I wrote, "I know these poems well, because I am the one that people like you use, then discard like a used sanitary napkin." The writer wasn't happy, and strange enough, this type of poetry subsided.

I wrote a poem that had such a bizarre response in reviews it both cracked me up, and also pissed me off. After another of my more favorite members wrote a sestina, as she called it, I wanted to try my hand at writing one.

Wikipedia has one of the best descriptions. "A sestina is a structured 39 line poem consisting of six six-line stanzas followed by an envoi of three lines. The words that end each line of the first stanzas are used as line endings in each of the following stanzas, rotated in a set pattern. It is a 12th century Provencal form still popular today."

This form is also referred to as a sextina, sestine, sextine or sextain. Also the last word of each line comes from a list of six words that rotate about stanzas in a particular order. In my case I chose: comfort, actor, above, script, love and stage. The last stanza is made up of three lines each line using two of the words at half the syllable count, which was my own introduction to the form.

I enjoyed the challenge which took a very long time to noodle out the lines, while keeping to the meaning I intended. I had many good reviews, but immediately was severely downgraded for rhyming love and above, even receiving one star ratings with an even stronger rebuke and lecture for daring to rhyme love with above.

This immediately flabbergasted me as a sestina is not a rhymed poem, and the fact that in one stanza love and above were next to each other shouldn't matter. I defended the work, and was even more shocked that the response, as in one case by a member of a tough guy from Los Vegas, and I point blank called his bluff, then noticed he took off his (or she did) photograph from the member name. I would later find that photograph under another member's name.

To top it off and even flabbergast me even more, rhyming love and above; created two new members. With every writing site, there is an errant word editor to frustrate the writer in addition to their own mistakes and word processors that have their own quirks, which does a pretty good job itself!

Such as the poor woman who published a cook book with a recipe calling for using ground up black people ... and was accused of being a racist because that is not a typo. I knew what she did, and proved it to everyone at work by typing, "black peper," which was automatically changed to, "black people." I immediateturned my word processor's automatic spell-check off because of it, and it answered many questions I had about word substitutions in my own works, adding to my typos I couldn't figure out how I did.

At the writing sites, by the ardent, caring and frustrated people who don't get anything from the site guru but, "It must be your computer," these editors quickly pick up nicknames since there isn't enough profanity devised to deal with it.

Because, I dared to rhyme love and above, even if it is a coincidental in a non-rhyming poem; the sites editing program's nick-name decided to become a member of the site just to downgrade the poem further, as well a new member who came onboard specifically named along the lines of, "The society against clich'ed rhymes like love and above."

I didn't mind getting needlessly denigrated about it and getting my leg pulled by this perceived err in their mind. It was the extent people, who I believed was The Convention Woman, would go to those lengths to punish me with ratings. I got ticked off and said the problem isn't with the word, "love," but with the, "above part," as such a lack of belief is the reason they will never find true love. I got a few angry shots about that fired at me as well.

Most upsetting to me was the fact that My Favorite Member disappeared from the site, as did the Cowgirl. I tried to privately contact both, but received no response, nor did I receive a response from other members that were tight with her. Once again I contacted the site guru and received a response that members tend to come and go.



Another problem with the site cropped up. It was election time and everyone was for Obama. In fact I was planning to vote for him too, as I loved what he said and the attitude he displayed, yet I decided against voting for him. With Baltimore being about fifty percent black, I dreaded the fact that they will be walking up to me and asking me if I would vote for Obama.

When I was asked this, I felt with the racial pride as it was, the inquiring black people not only required an honest answer, but an explanation as well, "I really wanted to vote for him because I like what he says, but one thing has stopped me from choosing Obama. No one is asking how he might be able to do that and for the lack of answers, I don't like the ones I am coming up with."

I also used the time to let them know my feelings about the president or government fixing the economy. "I believe that the president of the country can't improve or, "fix," a bad economy; but can always do things to make it worse and prolong the agony."

The black people gave me only nothing but respect and thanked me for at least considering him, and a few even made the mistake of asking if I ever would vote for a black person. I busted out laughing, and mumbled with a whisper, "I have already voted for black people ... (and with a hushed fast whisper) ... but many of you don't think they count because I tend to vote conservative."

I continued with, "I know only one party wants to hold on to the notion of black power, but if many black people took a look at their situation and figured out what would be best for government in reference to them, most people's situations would be improved."

There was a bit of shock to both me voting for a black person and also with what I said, but there was a bit of laughter too, as well consideration of what I said. Ironically it was white people that decided to give me a fit about deciding not to vote for Obama.

"Well it's obvious you hate black people" ... or more poignantly ..." Well, why don't you go home and put your white sheet on!"

"Fuck you! Fuck you! Hey, answer me this! Have you ever voted for a black person yourself?" The question remained unanswered, "Well, I have and I believe the direction Obama is going to be taking this country is the wrong one. For a voting issue, the issue of his being black is about the lamest one out there. I vote for who I believe is the best person for the job and if I don't like what they are doing, I don't vote for them again."

"With you people," (I did use it as a pejorative, but only in reference to this new form of intolerant white people), " You are going to use anything you can to get people to vote your way, including shame and peer pressure!"

With the writing site and presidential election poetry it was more of the same, except for the outright cussing and insinuations. There were Obama poems galore and in fact so many of them with many members I suspected of being The Convention Woman, I wondered if the site itself decided to support Obama at all costs. For me it was reviewing as usual and if it was a good poem, it got reviewed by me, but at this time, I was frequently passing the Obama poems up as they didn't strike me as having much poetic value.

The few that I reviewed, got the same high ratings, but when I differed with their view and put out an argument to debate the poem, I was greeted with outright hostility which shocked me as I wasn't hostile to them. More than one member replied, "Well if you don't like reading what I wrote, then don't review me."

There were plenty of surprises as well, "I am liberal Mike! I, am liberal! Don't talk to me about your politics." I also kept track of the republican poems and many were given lower ratings and scathing reviews, which was the same when I wrote one.


I was no fan of McCain, who won the republican nomination, as I felt he was and will continue to be a part of the problem with both Washington, DC and the Republican Party. Yet, he earned my chilled vote because I felt he was the lesser of two evils, and wouldn't be compelled to go as far in the wrong direction as I felt Obama would do. Also McCain would be more likely to change course if it is impressed upon him that he was going in the wrong direction.

To me, it all started with G.W. Bush, but not for the reasons that most people hated him for. I felt he was a good president and did his job; but in all things moral, he applied that separation of church and state in his mind to appear fair. I felt he wouldn't say something that could change the direction the country headed in because they weren't breaking the law, and it was only a moral consideration. With disdain, I also felt that Bush wheeled and dealt too much to get out of governance what he wanted; something that didn't matter to his enemies and bristled anger and disgust with his friends and supporters. He was so much, go along to get along!

Then Sarah Palin came along as a vice presidential choice and it was a shock to me just how much disrespect she received and being a gentleman, I tried to defend her from a common sense standpoint. The biggest shocker to me was just how many women decided to shed their feminist sentiments and jump on board. The writing site was no exception and my theory was with McCain the media and Democrats knew if they tried what they usually did and attack McCain, they would be seen as bullies beating up on a war hero who was tortured.

Once again I contacted the site's guru with my concerns and got the, "That's the way it is, I don't care," attitude. It dawned on me that I was more worried about his profitability more than him, or her. I now viewed someone I respected very much as a complete fool, for letting politics denude the convictions and moral behavior and character of the site.

I decided I had to leave the site for a while, if not permanently; not only for what it became in my mind, but the feeling that my writing would be constantly interfered with. I also didn't want to continue with writing there, because I now had my own ideas about my writing and the direction that I wanted it to go. There were other inklings that told me this would be best for all involved.



My financial situation was the bigger frustration and simply getting worse, every time I started to catch up, it seemed the prices of things went up. I had my excuse, but what amazed me was though not as extreme, my coworkers as well as friends outside of the shop were having difficulties and coming closer to my situation; just my case was a little more extreme and I was back in default with the mortgage, and seemed to wear out my welcome with leniency and working with them for partial payments.

Once again, I had to go to The Boss Man and asked for a profit sharing distribution, because I had a loan on it already. Anything to do with profit sharing, whether a loan or distribution, the opposite would have been a better long term choice in the end, but at the cost of my house.

The Boss Man was infuriated with me, and told me that I must be doing something wrong, so before he signs off on a hardship distribution, I must present all of my financial information for his tutoring and consideration. I had the worst feeling in the world about this and I had already gotten things as lean as I could make them.

I got tired of cable years ago as it became exceedingly expensive, so I moved my TV choice to satellite which was initially about a third the cost, then slowly rose to about half. It was still overall expensive and they were very quick to turn off service so at best, I was paying full price of only about ten days of TV a month, not to mention the additional service charges to turn it back on.

My internet service was though Verizon and DSL in nature, but it was affordable. I noticed that Verizon was installing fiber optics in the area and when they offered their service, the combination phone, TV and internet was the best deal for me.

In the Boss Man's office, he scoffed and said, "You're letting the phone company rip you off. Drop the internet service!"

"No way, I write and need the internet capabilities since I do a lot of research and have friends all over the world."

"Well, I'll tell you right now, the TV is ridiculous so I want you to drop it and pick up satellite service, look here, it is only $25.00 a month. Do it."

I told the boss man, "Look, that charge is only for three months, then it shot up through the roof to twice what I am paying now, and to top it off, they were too quick to turn it off and charged me even more fees to get it back on."

The Boss Man had another major nit, "Look at what you are paying for insurance, it is way too expense and you let them have their way with you. You should have no problems, getting it down to ... which is what I pay." The differences in payments was upsetting to me, and as promised I went to the insurance company to talk to them. I also found out that he made a call to them and insisted they could do better at taking care of me.

The insurance company looked at my policy and made a couple of adjustments to help me out, but put it bluntly about The Boss Man's ideas. "Mike, let's put it this way ... The Boss Man's expectations for us covering you with the price he wants isn't realistic for your situation. Can you afford to pay a $20,000 deductable if something happens? I know you can't, and that is the only reason you could ever get a rate that low, like him."

I settled for what I could get reduced, and put my happy face on and thanked him for helping me out. He agreed to sign the hardship distribution papers, and once again I got the lecture of how I need to be responsible with my money and they are considering dropping the profit sharing loans and hardship distributions.

Again, it didn't matter in the least to The Boss Man, the fact that what financially destroyed me was when they went back on their word, or the fact that they had no qualms about me leading a life that wouldn't be in the least acceptable to them. After another one of his talks, I just wanted to go home and put a gun to my head to end it all. Maybe it would be the best way of telling them this job of mine, just isn't worth it.

I vowed never to ask for a profit sharing loan, hardship distribution or another other help from them at all, even if it meant selling everything I own or like at the poetry convention starving. It wasn't long before I had another, "What the hell?" moment, I didn't bounce one check, but six which didn't make sense to me as I felt I had money in the bank though only a dollar per account.

Then the next week, I paid the balance due and went home to find out that there was now an extended late fee which started it all over again. Needless to say, the next month it happened again, which was something I couldn't understand as I had the accounts on the internet to avoid such occurrences.

I was getting farther behind and had to start selling things to make up the difference. In the end, I sold my wedding bands, plus the recording and sound equipment and a few tools, a little at a time. I had a decent relationship with the pawn broker and felt he was honest, but at best I was getting about a third of what I had paid for it.

What was getting my attention is the closer my fellow employees were getting to my way of being as they two were hit by the economy and hadn't had raises for years, with the primary excuse being, "The companies not making any money, just be grateful for what you do get."

Year after year, it was adding to people's frustration, yet there was reality to it as the company struggled to try to keep up with the health care cost increases, now opting for a modified plan where they increased the health insure deductable, and paying directly into a flex system which was like a credit card, for medical expenses. That did me well as with the personal budget problems, at least allowed me to purchase over the counter medicines and first aid supplies as needed.

Vic and I were doing well working together each resigned that the other wasn't always going to be able to be there as promised. Still Vic was edgy about things and then I got the sneaky suspicion that something was up. He would eventually inform me with the promise of secrecy that he is going to truck driving school to become a long haul truck driver as he had it with Advance and had no desires to continue on in the printing industry.

This only added to his budgetary concerns as truck driving school wasn't cheap, but he had a good wife to back him up. I wished I didn't have promised secrecy, as wanted to put Mike up against a press, bang him into it a few times and shake him about saying, "Mike, are you fucking crazy? Why are you treating Vic like shit every morning and making sarcastic statements? You better get off of your ass and do something to keep him here!"

But on the other hand, I knew exactly what was happing to Vic because it was also happening to me; I had memories of the night shift where Vic and I had triple the efficiency and could turn jobs around fast and to be honest, we made the Quinn's a ton of money, and though fully dedicated and made over time, we really didn't get rewarded for killing ourselves, we simply felt that we gave the day shift more of a slack day. We also couldn't work like gangbusters because of all of the interference.

I did the best I could with my self induced split-shift but in addition of the loss of efficiently as other people would bully themselves into the equipment you were using and often leave their jobs there as they walked off and talk to someone else. With Mike's incessant insertions and changes of orders, efficiency wasn't even worth attempting. Nor was the anger after working three hours, offloading by hand 150 pound cartons themselves, running the out to the cutter and cutting them, when he came in and said, "Well when are you going to start working?"

It is these attitudes that I was silently cheering for Vic to succeed and become that long haul truck driver he now wanted to be; in fact it was in his blood. I was also hoping with Vic leaving, it would get the shifts put back to a normal working day as I was tired about having no time to do things at home or crashing and burning on the weekends to the extent I was.




I was also using Vic's new story for self motivation and once again started thinking about doing more writing, but in a much more serious vein. One of the stations we listened to was 98ROCK which was a childhood icon and symbol for many of us high school individualistic freaks that were newly laden with testosterone.

I went away from listening to them in the 80s and 90s as it seemed their immaturity and penchant for penis talk, got to all ridiculous proportions as they tried to catch up with other radio personalities such as the Greaseman and Howard Stern. How ever the station had toned down with a morning show called, "Kirk, Mark and Lopez," and another person who seemed to have the mix right, Mickey who was on in the evenings.

Mickey was very new to radio, so just his learning to ropes was entertainment and to be honest, when he first came on board, Vic and I gave him just two weeks if he was lucky. While we were listening to the station, many stories cropped up that led me to feel they should write down their stories and publish a book.

First, when I was the teenager, it was our iconic radio station we listened to and in fact, sort of considered the counter culture. But as an adult with my work situation unfolding, and them as a corporation, they seemed to still have that local independent radio station feel to it. The obvious was letting Mickey develop his show through the many debacles that occurred and that sense of trust in him, really allowed him the success he gained as well the entertainment it provided us working stiffs.

But two things stood out in my mind the most, when Lopez, the longstanding newsman, developed lung cancer; he wanted to remain on the air as long as possible and they even turned his house into a remote location to broadcast from as the listeners hung on to every remaining word they could.

Then STASH short of Steve Ash, another longtime DJ and show host, had his accident where he slipped on the steps of his home. Tumbling backwards down them, and actually dying in the process. He was revived and for a while it was touch and go as he had head injury as well. It was nice the station saved his spot for him as well updated the listeners, about his status and recovery.

At the time, the station had a lot of personality and its own stories such as when a Josh Spiegel replaced Lopez and how and how this new newsman was treated as well. Then those two Morning Show hosts left the station for greener pastures and Mickey and Amelia moved into the morning spot and the work in progress continued along with changes in producers.

I also enjoyed the evolution of Mickey's broadcasts and when he was in the evenings, he had a woman named Jen who was a co-host, but more like side-kick. Then something happened that she couldn't live down, she admitted to anal sex. Vic and I suddenly popped our heads out of the four color press and asked, "Did she just say...?"

Unfortunately, that was something she wasn't able to live down and was shortly replaced with a host named Amelia, who already had a long career in radio. As Mickey put it, she was there to run the board, but soon added balance to Mickey's show as she would go along with many of Mickey's bits, but very blunt when she wouldn't.

In her own way, this Tom-girl added her own blend of humor and the show tightened up quite a bit and the shows moving to afternoons coincided with my change from the night-shift to the split-shift.

Amelia really cracked me up, but I loved both the Tom-boy aspect, her straightforwardness as well as the stories she managed to create. I damned near pissed myself at work when a guy called the show and apologized for what he did to her as she was guest bartending at an appearance ... Then added, "But you didn't have to deck me, I was only trying to give you a massage."

"Well, you should have asked first, but I didn't know what you were planning to do and most likely I wouldn't have allowed you to touch me anyway."

Amelia was also expressing problems and frustrations over dating, and wasn't very happy about a situation that she would rather not be part of. But that was also her lament, as she expressed she would have loved to have a nice guy to be with.

While I heard this from women a lot, it was something that I usually felt was very insincere on their part, but with Amelia I felt it was a sincere wish so I immediately bowed my head and said a prayer, "Dear God, please allow Amelia to find a good man who would love and care for her."

It only took a couple of weeks to suspect that something was up, as there were hints she may have found someone, then about a week later, Mickey accidently spilled the beans and mentioned the name, "Hercules."

I looked up at Heaven and said, "Come on God! I would have at least liked to have a drink or two with her first!" It cracked me up that I now would have to consider Amelia to be the answer to my prayers, but once again, the importance of stating more specificity in prayer..

I just liked the mix of personalities and the sort of dysfunctional family persona they had. For the mornings, it was the morning show with Kirk and Mark, then for the afternoons it was Mickey and Amelia, but that too would change when Kirk and Mark left for what they believed were better prospects.

Their Christmas get together was called, "Flapjacks and Forties," where you could buy a forty ounce bottle of beer dirt cheap at 6:00am. I was amazed that the place was packed to capacity and a twenty foot walk to the bathroom took twenty minutes. Best plan ahead!

Kirk was also in a band that played between breaks, and I had just made it to my long awaited urinal when Mark came in and just about pushed me out of the way, saying, "I bet you can't believe how rude us radio hosts are."

I was a bit put off, but saw the humor in this so I replied, "I understand that the show has its time constraints and you have to get to business fast ... Besides with your egos I am amazed that you pee at all." Mark just about painted the wall, the expression on his face was priceless and it must have messed with him as he walked up to me several times and talked.

Dave hill was the new program director at 98ROCK and was to my eyes, Mr. Cool with his long flowing blond hair and his clothes, especially his trench coat. When Kirk and Mark left, Dave Hill moved Mickey and Amelia to cover the mornings, which was a touch and go affair and as Mickey put it, "Please have patience with us, the new morning show is a work in progress."

That was an understatement, as Spiegel was there and I figured Mickey and Amelia will be giving him a better way, but it seemed that Spiegel was used to doing his own thing which would irritate Mickey and have Mickey irritating Josh Spiegel back. Yet, while it was sort of a radio turf war, it seemed to me there was method to the madness. Until Josh blew up on air and said the fateful words, "I quit!" as he stormed out.

Mickey immediately put in an on air call to Dave Hill, and they chatted a minute until Josh walked in and Dave, cut them off. Everything was explained to the listeners the next day and it turned out that Mickey was pushing Spiegel to bring more out of him and to get him into thinking like a team member.

The new Morning Show was also going through a few producers, and Dave brought in his friend from New York, Scott Reardon, who would be known as Scott the Producer. There were many squabbles and expressions of dissention expressed towards Scott, but Scott instead of getting angry, said exactly what Mickey stated, "I am new here and it is going to take a little time to bring the morning show up to snuff and it will require patience and respect." Basically he was saying, "Let me do my job."

I loved this hashing out of their business on air and it made me feel, so not all alone as the poetry had a lot of production to it which was part of the adventure. I liked them enough that I wrote a poem to wish them all well simply titled, "Beer and Bacon," which was the new version of the old morning show's, Flapjacks and Forties.

The Mickey, Amelia and Spiegel show was totally appreciative as was Dave Hill, who now stood behind the show as it progressed. He was now completely bald. The look he had with what he was wearing, made him look like he stepped out of, "Yentl," or, "Fiddler On The Roof." I told Dave to come out and relax a bit.

"No, way! I think it is best, I watch the show."

I felt that was unnecessary and told him he made a good choice with the hosts and it will work out well. He appreciated my comments, but still felt everything was touch and go, and was totally apprehensive over the whole affair.

I met Dave Hill again at the Fells Point Art Festival in September or next year as 98ROCK was sponsoring the entertainment at the beer garden. Dave seemed much happier and we chatted a bit about the station and the shows. I told him 98ROCK has many stories, which should be written down and published in book form as future 98ROCK fans might like to look back and enjoy some of its uniqueness and history. Dave thought this was a wonderful idea and I believe he mentioned the he would look into it.

The personality there was STASH, the person who was doing the afternoon shift at the station and had the accident that resulted in head injury and I was so glad to find him doing perfectly well. I told him of the idea about writing a book of the station and its stories and he too felt it was a great idea.

I got a little more information on his injury and more how it prompted him to make some changes in his life. I also commented about my mother and her brain injury from suffering a cardiac arrest at home, but surviving. Then STASH pointed out a totally creepy aspect to the conversation as the stage was changing up bands and was playing, Pink Floyd's song, "Brain Damage," from the Dark Side of the Moon Album.

I walked away wondering if somehow that wasn't an omen for me to pick up the cause and write the book, but since 98ROCK was part of Hearst Broadcasting, they had the writers on staff who could do a much better job than myself. I took advantage for the band change up to go to the areas of the Fells Point Festival and do some photography of the event.

Apparently the coincidence also had an effect on STASH as I had my radio and heard in delay, "Wow! I was talking to a listener about brain injury and we both realized that the song Brain Damage was playing in the background." That just creped me out even more!

I was also photographing the various bands for my own files, but since 98ROCK was the sponsor agreed to share the photograph files with them. The Niki Barr Band was the final band up on stage and the most performance savvy I had seen; Niki Barr being the singer.

I had the feeling, I had a place for her in a poem, though neither written or even thought out at the time. I saw her look at a left over, almost full plastic cup of beer and immediately ran to get under it; but she was just a little bit quicker and almost didn't count. She kicked it and I ended up covering my camera to protect it, getting covered in the stale warm brew. I laughed as it would have been worth being a smelly sticky mess had I made it underneath a captured her kicking the beer. I regretted not getting that photograph that would have made a good album shot, especially with her music.



I enjoyed spending a little more time with 98ROCK as it was keeping my head from what happened with the writing site and the poetry convention and gave me a new possible direction to take things.

But various deaths would become a fairly status quo for me and the perceivable future. From my Indian cooking days, while not a member of the Moose, I still walked to Towson to Miss Usha's to have my hair cut, and still enjoyed sharing an end of day tea with them.

One time I was about ready to walk in when a somewhat heavyset Indian man walked out and I greeted him and offered to shake his hand, but instead he busted out laughing and kept walking. I thought to myself, Oh, don't tell me that was Miss Usha's husband! If that was him, why did he act like that?

I walked in and Miss Usha said, "Mike, did you meet my husband, he just walked out?"

"I thought that was your husband and introduced myself and offered to shake his hand, but he busted out laughing and kept walking." That generated a smile from Miss Usha and a couple of the other girls doing threading. Miss Usha said that eventually I will meet him and talk. I got my hair cut and also had tea and conversation.

Still I wondered about Usha's husband and something just didn't feel right within, and it was a matter of a couple of weeks, he was out by the pool at their house and died suddenly of a heart attack. The next time I went there it was very sad and I offered Miss Usha my sympathy condolences. I had found out some time before as I believe one of the ladies from Pavin's told me.

The next month, I again had my hair cut and always enjoyed talking with the African American woman who always cut it. She always wanted to know what I was doing next, and I told her I was considering writing my biography and in a sense started laying it out for her.

One the other side of the group of mirrors was another Indian woman who stayed behind at Miss Usha's shop in Parkville until it closed. I was fairly convinced that she was listening in on my conversation with the hair cutter as I could see her head move with some of the content about my past relationships.

I then mentioned cooking the Indian food was quite an adventure and Miss Usha has a place in the book as well. If I had any doubts about the Indian woman listening, they certainly went away after saying that gem. I then talked about how it would even fit in with the relationship theme and told the black woman about the Muslim woman that turned me into a crying boy over what was going on in my marriage.

My hair cutter laughed and liked the story, but I saw the Indian woman become red faced and walk out directly to Miss Usha and say something; I figured that wasn't going to be good. After my hair cut, I got up and wondered if I should hang around for the tea, but Miss Usha and all other the other ladies walked past me and went upstairs, giving me very dirty looks as they left. Miss Usha simply said, "Goodbye, Mike."

I was upset over this and expressed it to my hair cutter, and I believe she went upstairs, but while still positive put the best face on that she could and told me there wasn't going to be a tea. I paid up with the other American lady who was the receptionist and left. Talk about a dressing down, ouch.

I went back there for the next month's haircut, and even brought an Indian snack I made up, and it was a bit earlier them usual, but I went out in the treading room and patiently waited, but Miss Usha seemed less than thrilled. Then a Muslim woman came in wearing a Hijab and she too seemed to give me the look of utter hatred, but she proceeded in to get her hair cut from the same woman I use.

It took only a couple of minutes for the hair cutter to whisper something in Miss Usha's ear, then Miss Usha looked at me, but the woman called thought of as, "Punpkin," walked over to Miss Usha's beckoning.. Now Miss Usha and Pumpkin both glanced at me and Pumpkin came over and quietly said, 'The Muslim woman who came in to have her hair cut says that if she sees you, she will immediately leave and never come back. Can you leave now?"

I got up and took a step, "You have to leave out of the back door." I knew Pumpkin was ashamed of this, but I felt very offended and told Pumpkin, "I know she is a Muslim woman, but you are too and while I try to be as easy going as possible, one a religious basis I feel slighted myself." I also felt slighted because Indian women are supposed to be more respectful of men, and this made me feel like some little boy that did something wrong.

When the door closed and locked behind me, I definitely understood how an African American felt in the fifties and with this happening with Miss Usha, it really hurt me. I told Dave and Ann and Ann suggested that it is another sign for me I stop using Miss Usha and to her it made sense as Miss Usha chiefly deals with Indian and Islamic women, who pay a lot more then I do for haircuts.

I was growing my hair longer and needed fewer haircuts so needing a break from both Miss Usha and spending a lot of money, I went back to the Hair Cuttery to a hair cutter that as decent as she was with Jimmy and I, couldn't satisfy Rita for anything. I did enjoy the sense of revenge with going back to her as Rita's comment was, "So you're using her again? I didn't think she did a good job anyway." There were also inferences I was planning to date her.

I laughed at Rita and replied, "Good! That's the exact reason I am going to her you don't like her."

"It figures."

Still I liked Miss Usha and always considered myself a lifelong customer and out of impulse I went up there some months later, stopped by and said high. It wasn't more than a couple of minutes Miss Usha asked, "How are you doing? Are you getting your hair cut?" She looked at me questionably as it already appeared to be cut.

"No, not this time. I'm doing OK but still hurting financially from the divorce, still writing though. I am growing my hair longer and having it cut less frequently."

"Well, OK. It's nice seeing you, but it is busy here today. Goodbye."

That pretty much told me that the teas were over and it bothered me that I didn't think I had anything to do with screwing them up, but with Usha's husband passing away, she was more worried about how it would look if I was around. Also I know that many Indian people are all about the money and feared she thought I was looking for a hand out.

I had a feeling that Usha's husband suspected that something was going on with him medically and wondered why he approved her in helping me out with the cooking. He definitely struck me as more laid back about things then Miss Usha.

I wondered if something was wrong with me and other Indian people and went back to Pavin's for a meal and Miss Benna still appeared interested in my writings. I told them about what happened in regards to Miss Usha and expressed my lament, but Miss Benna had a way of cheering me up, "Well we consider ourselves as common people so you are always welcome here." That absolutely cracked me up and it reminded me, perhaps that is the best mindset to have in life.



With Christmas approaching, the convention, the writing site and now Miss Usha had me down, it was almost as if some karmatic switch got thrown. The financial problems were still gnawing at me as was losing Vic at work, yet I couldn't blame him.

I really didn't want to be alone for Christmas and I thought, What would be the harm with sharing a holiday dinner with someone? I was thinking something with friendship and intimacy, with the only thoughts about having a good time. If it became romantic, or led to another dinner or time out together, so much the better; but that wasn't the main goal.

There was a neighbor living down on the corner named Marilyn and she lived in an upstairs apartment with her sister and her husband down below. I always talked to both and everything seemed positive. Once I came up with the idea, Marilyn didn't seem to be around when I was, so I taped a Christmas card to her door with the proposal that we share dinner together.

Without receiving a response in a week, I pretty much figured she would decline the dinner though I would have appreciated a simple, yes or no. I was a bit surprised to find that she sent me an email from her work, explaining why a dinner would be unacceptable.

What bothered me was she basically had to include that she considered dating neighbors, much the same as dating coworkers and you just don't do that. She also mentioned that she dated a neighbor and it turned out to be very ugly so she never will do that again.

I told a few people that what I did and needless to say, they wanted to know her response and when I told them, they said, "She considers you a neighbor, I figured you would lived too far away for to be considered a neighbor."

I personally wondered about where she got the idea about dating as I was talking, one dinner. Another thing that bothered me was, the fact that now whenever I talked to her, she would walk away and say, "Now you know that one was inappropriate!" I was left standing there because the conversation was no different than it was before, but certainly now in her mind.

She also walked her dog, which was a female and she was also now very angry with me because Oliver the beagle barked at her dog and she demanded an immediate solution. The best solution is to let them get to know each other so they will be bored and pass each other. She had absolutely no faith in this despite I did this with several other dogs and despite the early snippets at each other, they would start passing with barely a look.

I tried once again to get the Oliver used to hers and they sniffed each other then she barked, then Oliver and she became hysterical and ran her dog away and when she turned back sounding in near tears yelled, "See Mike, I told you it won't work and you, you should have known better. Why do you insist on doing this to me?"

I yelled back, "I hate to tell you when someone else is at your dog's leash, we never have problems like this. It isn't your dog, it's the owner!" In fact when her sister's husband walked the dog, Oliver barked, but there was never a problem outside of that and she usually put the dog out in the small back yard and it totally cracked me up the Oliver was terrified to see her dog and wouldn't walk over.

Yet, if the dog was on a lead by the picnic table, they would sniff, than ignore each other. I ended up grateful that Marilyn and I didn't dine together as I had a feeling nothing would be working out with her, as she just couldn't be a friend after I asked her to join me in a meal. It still made me feel stigmatized, though I knew there wasn't anything I could do to fix things.

I also had asked the neighbor across the street to get together during the holidays, and while she never hand problems talking with me, she said, "No, I have plans to take the girls out to meet with family members for the holidays."

Since I wanted this dinner to be casual, I said having the girls there wouldn't be a problem. Of course one of the girls informed me it would be. They could be a block away, but if they saw me talking to their mom, they would yell, "Stay away from Mom, we know you're in love with her!"

I tried to explain things to her kids, but I think they rather enjoyed what they did, and in a sense I wondered if they had too much a hold on Mom. As much as I cared and the fact I was always planned to include the girls; the lack of interest sort of offended me, yet I was so happy that it didn't influence the day to day exchanges like the inquiries with other women did, so I could say I still experienced friendship.

I did ask a couple of other women. At work I always considered it a blessing as a woman who walked past the shop with her dog, and always took time out to chat as I pet the dog and hence, a wisp of a friendly relationship that had formed.

Ironically the same thing happened with another woman who also walked her dog past the shop. Since my mind was either on work or outside smoking a cigarette and listening to music, it actually took me six months to figure out that these two women were walking the same dog. I started to wonder about that.

They both started to walk the dog together and I was amazed that it never changed the conversations, and both remained nice with me as it did the dog. I really didn't want to be alone so I asked them both if I could come over and we all do something together like watch a movie and I offered to bring dinner. I would come to realize that being rejected by two women would feel more like three as they exchanged this total look of utter horror for each other.

I'm sorry, I figured, What the hell and if anything happened, at least they like plastic! Something with perhaps the two, it would be enjoyable as there wouldn't be as much complaining, because they could tag team. They neither complained or rejected me, but simply said goodbye and continued to walk their dog. I did evaluate things from their perspective and realized I asked with about of finesse you find with the ballet troupe, Les Ballets Grandiva; a comedic ballet act made up of men in tights.



One thing did seem to go well as I made the up the road trek 5:30am to attend the Beer and Bacon of the 98ROCK Morning show. I had a good time, and the early crowd still allowed for walking and room to do photography, but it soon built up to Kirk and Marks crowds.

Once again I managed to find 98ROCK's program director and asked if he started work on writing the book I suggested. I was astounded that he said that they haven't. I then stated my desire to be the person to write the book for them. Dave thought that was a great idea and even invited me to the studios so I can see the operation and talk to the various hosts during their shifts.

I was both totally shocked and honored that a person in Dave Hill's position would grant me such considerations. I then told Scott the Producer and he to not only liked the idea, but also invited me to the studio.

To me this news still made for a great start to the New Year, which was when I told them I would start working on the book.



In the meantime, it was Christmas and I wanted to write a Christmas poem and post it on the site, but none of the site's cherished friends had returned my PM's that expressed a Merry Christmas and holiday greetings. Also My Favorite Member had disappeared along with The Cowgirl, which had my stomach churning that something had really happened and it bothered me greatly that now, any inquiring PM.

I got so aggravated, I threw my chair at the wall and walked downstairs and sat with the dog and cat for most of the day. The family Christmas gathering was cancelled due to the flu or busy people needing rest. I haven't felt so alone since my senior year of high school, but at least in that one, it took the love of my life dying to bring those feelings about.

I could only think about my father's castigations towards those people that turned their pets into an almost human status. I understood that much better now, as for the few brain cells they have, they provide you with nonstop love with few demands and if you feel down, they sense that and pay you little attention.

The neighbor across the street, had her car remain parked in front of her house, and I realized there could have been opportunity not to be alone, provided she had the spirit of accommodation and would value the get together. Other people irritated the hell out of me with the comment about rebound relationships and insinuating that was what I was looking for, or what things would end up as. I saw that as just another sarcasm and demonstration of a lack of faith.

I was in a pretty heavy mood of lament and regret, until I started seriously thinking about things. "Hey, wait a minute!"