Oddish

Geoff did the weirdest thing ever. We put in our garden the other day and there were some onions from last year that decided to do some growing for the spring. Doug pulled them out and they were no more than bulb-sized, with big green fronds sticking out the top.

Geoff said they looked like the Pokemon "Oddish." Which, Yes... they did. How funny of you to notice, thought I.

He adopted them. He walked around with them all day, he played with them. Rode them around in the back of his fisher price car, which he's too big for but that doesn't stop his ass from tryin'.

There is a small one, punier than all the other puny onions, and he called it "Baby Oddish," and decided it was her birthday. It being her birthday, and he being their pokemon master, he planned a big party. He wanted me to bake a cake. He made her a birthday present. He coddled her and held her.

It was "odd-ish." To say the least. So I being the one to always support my friends and family members in any outlandish or psychologically twisted scheme they put together, got right in on the party.

I didn't bake a cake, but I did get him a dish of strawberry ice cream and put gingersnaps in it and sang happy birthday to Baby Oddish. He really liked that. Jessica and Doug pretty much ignored us, Doug less so than Jessica... he was amused, but not as into it as I was.

Am I damaging my son by playing these ridiculously stupid games with him, where I get into the pretending just as much as he does? Is he too old for this? Is this something I should not exactly encourage. Hearken back to Geoff's Imaginary Friend days, where I was into it and supportive... but let him know that culpability for messes and mistakes was squarely on him, not on his "friend" Cory.

Now I've got a pile of dried onion bulbs with green limpy tops on my ghetto livingroom table. I have to throw them out, but I know he'll go apeshit. I'll have to do it when he isn't thinking of Baby Oddish. Too bad I loaned my digicam out to catering man, or I'd be posting a picture of Geoff hugging his friends. Too weird.

Geoff's obsession with pokemon is wearing thin on me. I mean, some of them are just fucked up, case in point, the one called a Jynx. It looks like RuPaul gained 200lbs and still acts like a Diva. It is just too weird for my liking. My favorite though, is Mr. Mime, I gotta scan him in for you. You'll shit your pants if you've never seen him before. Most pokemon are like animals, Ponyta, Growlithe, Arcanine, even Pikachu is a mouse... but Oddish, Jynx, Mr. Mime, Porygon, these are the ones that the creators pulled out of their opium flooded braincells when they needed just a couple more to get to 50 or lose their jobs and be forced to commit suicide! They suck. They are so uncool as far as pokemon go. If pokemon have any cool factor.

Snorlax does. Don't forget that.

Okay. I'm off. I've got more to write about but have to get dinner started, and a cup of tea. I'm sleepy. More later. My next installment of Life written by friends will concern my roommates from back in the day, Laurie and Bonnie. Until then, peace ...

Propane and Propane Accessories....

Jen is on a Nikka Costa kick right now. She comes home from work promptly at 9am, hits the stairs right over my head and bursts through the door, and presses play on the CD player. I don't care for Nikka Costa. I think she's horrid and over rated. And who cares if she's related to friggin Frank Sinatra. Nepotism only has its privileges with Jakob Dylan in my book.

At least most of her musical taste is good. She's also on an ABBA kick, so she's been playing the same two songs over and over. It's funny, makes me think of Linda.

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Again with the rain here. It is pouring out. And it isn't going to stop until maybe tonight or tomorrow at latest report. We need the rain, sure. But it'd be nice if there could be a few minutes where Geoff could run around outside for a while. He has so much energy... that indoors for a full day turns into a lot of pent up Geoff.

He invented a game which we can play while I'm working on websites. It doesn't require a lot of my attention, just enough that I can participate and type at the same time.

I just spent the better part of 3 hours working on cateringman's site, and the better part of it was an hour of pokemon battle. I'm so close to being done that I could scream. But there's just so much I can do with Geoff, so at least this little game he made helps.

He hands me a pokemon card, and tells me we're having the battle. I have to say things like "Lapras! Use your water gun attack!" and he yells "Geodude! Use your punch stone!" and then he jumps around for 30 seconds and I have to then call out the next pokemon strike, for him to counter strike, and then do his sound effects and make all sorts of action happen. It's kind of funny to watch, and I can type and think and do photoshop and he's having a blast.

And he'll patiently wait when I forget it is my turn to yell crap like "Weedle! Use your horn attack!"

When I can't think of anything else to "attack" with, I say "I'm down and out and I'm up and splat," and he rejoices because he won the battle.

Down and out and up and splat is something he and Jessica invented. I have no idea how to really play it, but it is one of two games they play together lately. It usually involves Jessica pissing him off and yelling that, so he has to yell "Aw!!! Now I have to start over!" And he starts whatever he is doing over... and she yells it again, and he freaks... it is a riot until he starts hitting her.

The other one is "Winner, in your face!" which is kind of a race game. She yells "Whoever gets to the [whatever she is standing closest to] first is the winner!" she touches it while he runs over, and then she yells "Winner, in your face!"

He yells it too, she argues that he cheated and she really won, he fights with her. She does it again. It can go on for hours.

I'm usually the target of what to get to first. "Whoever gets to mom first is the winner" and she's standing next to me, so I have both kids tagging me and yelling "Winner, in your face!"

He rarely wins. But at least she'll play with him.

I told her she has to change it so it isn't something she's standing next to. Doug told me "That's no fun. Then she has to work to get there. Defeats the older sibling purpose." Seeing as we're both oldest siblings I see the truth in his statement and her philosophy. But sometimes I feel she should give him more of a chance, so sometimes I pick the goal. When we're out on a hike, "Whoever gets to THIS tree first is the winner!" And I have Geoff standing next to me. He likes to win.

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We have to take the car into the shop today and get the oil changed and some work done to the front end. We were in Maine and had a total full load in the car, and I hit a pothole that I thought broke our front axle. I didn't see it in the dark. Now the car shakes and pulls to the right. So that needs adjusted. I hate the idea of taking Geoff to the dealership, but they could get me in today, and I totally need to get it done.

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We grilled out last night on the Weber. I love grilling, as I've praised the activity before in the past here. It smells good and takes a minute. I marinated some chicken in an Emeril garlic lemon pepper marinade, and it rocked steady. I felt like a pro. It was a good meal. There are left overs.

I really prefer the charcoal grill to a propane grill. For some reason I feel like a propane grill is going to explode in fiery death if I use it, plus I just like the taste of charcoal grilled meat. Hank Hill would hate me. I've heard all his arguments on the propane vs. coal debate and I still am not swayed.

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Last night a friend of mine from the old neighborhood called me. She has been reading the journal for a while and wanted to call me and express her sympathy.

What a nice surprise... what a gift it is to get an out of the blue call from someone. It was great to talk to her, almost two hours catching up on the phone... sometimes that's just one of the best things to do. I totally used to worship and admire her when we were kids, and in high school we kind of grew apart but were still friends. She was so cool when we were growing up. I could write a whole bunch of crap about what we used to do growing up but she'll get all embarrassed, and I want to keep her as my buddy. So I'll refrain.

I will say that she was a wicked good Charlie's Angels player.

We would run around with this other girl Barbara and I'd be Kate Jackson (she was the smart one, so I wanted to be like her...) and pretend to shoot guns at people and save the day. It was a riot. I have this distinct recollection of us running along the top of a humongous snowbank after a blizzard, and Barbara had on a brown corduroy coat. And a long scarf. Nothing greater than the fantasy minds of a chubby blonde girl, a Costa Rican beauty and an Orthodox Jewish girl pretending they are Hollywood's finest.

Funny how you can see things clearly, but totally forget everything else about things, like what year it was... what else was going on in life... I think it must have been 1978 or 79.

Anyway, it was great to catch up with the her. She is one of those people I look back on with such great fondness and adoration. So thanks J... you rule.

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We're still thinking of getting another dog, in case I haven't yet mentioned that. Kinger has become a neurotic mess when we leave him. I went outside with Geoff to get in the car yesterday to go pick up Jessie for a dentist appointment in the middle of the day and opted not to take him. He SCREAMED in the house as we walked away. You'd swear someone was beating his wife in the neighborhood based on the noise this dumb dog makes.

I think it would do him good to have someone else here when he has to be left. Oy. I'd get another rottie in a minute. Gotta get that Rottweiler Carpeting thing going again. But perhaps just a mutt puppy. We shall see.

Alright. Gotta get ready for our errands. Geoff will be happy to do errands. Wanna know what we have to do in addition to the car repair? I need half and half. I forgot to get garlic cloves for the roast I'm making... so It's Market Time! And I have to pick up the roll of film we dropped off the other day. Lots ta dooo lots TA dooooo. Crap it's really 12:30. Oh man. Gotta get going!

Snorlax

He reminded a lot of us of Snorlax. My kids thought it was really funny... and he went right along with the joke, and started to get into Snorlax...

He had sleep apnea, was a big guy, snored a lot. Funny thing about Snorlax though, if you know your Pokemon, is his defense is sleeping. He falls on opponents or yawns at them. He's grumpy. It's the dumbest pokemon ever, but... funny as hell.

He snored like a friggin' motor home trying to drive up the side of a mountain... sputtering, gagging, sawing and spewing. Noisy as hell. I remember Ben shared a room with him once at a conference and I forewarned Ben about the snoring. The next day I said to him "How'd ya sleep?" in a joking and knowing way, and just got the evil eye... the joking, knowing evil eye.

He also looked like Chef from South Park, especially when he work a red t-shirt. He would sing deep and low like Chef, and would lovingly refer to my children (not to their faces but to me) as "my little crackers."

There are so many funny, funny things about him that crack me up. So many funny memories that I've been wallowing in. Stuff I want to write about, stuff I don't ever want to forget.

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Doug got all the belongings from his car.

We went through a lot of his stuff last night. Doug found his journal from rehab, a daily regimen the house residents were required to do. Six months of light, one-page entries with some humor and a few confessions sprinkled through, and it ends with him going off for his first interview at Brandeis with a tone in his writing that expressed he believed he wasn't going to get the job.

Based on his own self-doubt and self-loathing, and the mess he left behind at both the other academic institutions he worked for, perhaps he was right. It was difficult to read.

There was very little insight into what he wanted from his future... but lots of daily inventory of "today was a great day." I am mentioned only once, the day he came to get his guitar, and it is only in passing. He was happier that the weather was good than he was to spend a half hour with me. I was happier than I'd been in months to spend time with him, and floated on cloud 9 about it for days after it happened. He had other thoughts and priorities to keep straight in his day to day head.

He had lists of things in a small journal, apart from the home journal. There was a list of people he wanted to renew relationships with, I knew all of them. The two students from the college he worked with, Chad and Remi, and a girl named Sarah he knew from Philly who went to our college.

There was a full list of every song he could play on the guitar flawlessly from memory. The list made me burst into tears. So many of those songs I sang with him playing. He taped me singing "Crazy Love," so that I could sing harmony to it. I remember the look on his face the first time I sang along with the tape... his jaw dropped. I made him squeal when the song was over. It was flawless. I can see us, sitting in the bathroom in my apartment in Hamilton, MA in 1989 on a hot summer afternoon. Just like it was a week ago. Just like it was a million years ago. The bathroom was dark forest green with a large vanity counter top. The tape recorder sat across from me. He sat on the floor.

There are other items in his stuff, papers he was required to write as part of the rehab. They are interesting reading and shed more light on him where he was at that moment.

One paper listed out the things he was thankful for in the last five months. First on the list was me for getting him his first job in the field he loved -- computer repair. Further on the list was "the Geigers" for giving me the first apartment that I got to live in alone.

Perhaps that was the problem. He was alone for the first time, even though he never was really alone. There was no lock on the door between our apartment and his, and he was often over here. Perceived loneliness or abandonment... boredom. The sense that perhaps he was a pain in the ass when he came over to hang out. Sometimes he was... othertimes it was like college and was a blast to have him over to watch a movie. He spent a lot of time with Chad and Remi upstairs before they moved to the Carolinas, and then after they left, well, we lost him wholly.

Eventually he stopped coming over to see us, and his life with heroin began.

He never was a nuisance, he never was a pain in the ass. I think he was looking to spend more than just an hour or two after work with friends. He was looking for an all day friend, or something to help him forget he didn't have an all day friend. And he found the later. Whatever the case may be, I'm not going to sit here and analyze it any more.

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The funeral is Friday. His sister wanted us to find his dress suit in the stuff we got. She'd bought it for him for his interview at Brandeis.

Along with the guitar, the suit is nowhere to be found, which perplexes her. She wonders what else of his stuff is among the missing and where he could have left it. I am hoping the guitar shows up, there are people who saw him in the past few days who may have some of his things. A friend of his said she was going to make some calls, see if he was anywhere with it with the people they both knew.

I am praying it turns up.

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I got a great email from Chad. In part, he says this:

"There were countless afternoons that he would come upstairs after a crappy day of cleaning mouse cages at Charles River and we would play video games or Magic the Gathering. I couldn't tell you how many movies the 3 of us went to. I don't think I'll ever understand some of the decisions he made. Maybe he just got tired of being a third party and was lonely.

I remember how in one evening he learned how to play "Crash into Me" on the guitar.

I remember the night he set his apartment on fire because he put the rug over the heating duct.

I remember the countless hours put into the "Mighty Trike Homepage" and how he turned a couple of rookies into devious Magic playing fanatics.

I wish I had known him longer. Sometimes I feel as if I was born just a couple years too late.

I will never pass a YMCA without thinking about that man. Or sit through another sci-fi movie without thinking about what he would have liked about it and what he would have made fun of.

He always made me laugh.

And now I have to be sad and think about all the things he'll miss that he would have loved.

He won't get to see Spiderman or the rest of the Star Wars films. I'll never get his opinion on the next up and coming indie music artist. Like you, I have a hard time believing it. I'll still wait for a "ding" on the Internet one night and hope triceratops69 will be the sender. Even little things like that still crack me up.

So, when you have your little get together raise a glass to the guy for me because I don't drink. I wish I could drive up there and be with you guys to share these memories because then I could laugh through my tears with the other people who cared about him.

I have to say my life was a lot easier to take in stride because of his input. His perspective on things was astounding and I will never forget it."

Thank you Chad.

This was very sweet to get, and I plan on giving it to his family. I want to put together a little collection of memory things for his sister and mom, contacting friends to have them write out a little something for a collection. Say one nice thing about him please... but not immediately. I want to give a little time. I want a little distance. More perspective. Less crying.