http://alanjohnstone.com/nucleus/ en-us Nucleus CMS v3.41 © Weblog http://backend.userland.com/rss http://alanjohnstone.com/nucleus//nucleus/nucleus2.gif http://alanjohnstone.com/nucleus/ xml-rss2.php?itemid=3 Now that I can be sure no one is watching, I can have this little place to spill my thoughts.
]]> General xml-rss2.php?itemid=3 Sun, 4 Jul 2010 09:05:39 -0700 xml-rss2.php?itemid=5
In truth, I barely knew him, but his humor and genuine enthusiasm drew me in as much as it did his closest friends. When he walked into a room, everyone stopped thinking about what they were going to do next or reminiscing about the past. His purpose was "now", and the moments had with him were the moments to reflect upon as the best, funniest, happiest times of those who had the privilege to be there.

Chris was a once-in-a-lifetime acquaintance, and he will truly be sorrowfully mourned and missed by many - many - many.

Emotions are sometimes cruel and the cocktail of those and the double shot of major social anxiety make it difficult to say what wants to come out of my mouth. Words come easier for me when followed by periods and commas, and I have time to arrange and rearrange. No eye contact necessary.
So... to those of you I saw and didn't really connect. I love you guys. I miss you too. I hate that this reunion has to come through tragedy.]]> Muse xml-rss2.php?itemid=5 Tue, 8 Dec 2009 08:56:00 -0700 xml-rss2.php?itemid=7

In Tennessee, the best way to alleviate the muggy heat of August is to jump into the nearest body of water. My friend, Steve, and I made plans to do just that in August of 1998. I am admittedly not much of an outdoorsman and had to be pressured a bit to agree to go inner tubing. The idea was intriguing, but fear of the unknown usually cripples me in such situations. After I reluctantly agreed, we piled into the car and headed up the Clarksville Highway towards the Harpeth River. I remember trying hard not to let my apprehension show during the twenty-minute trip, but I’m sure it did.
The plan was to find “The Narrows”, a remote area known for its lazy rapids, and beautiful white limestone bluffs. We twisted and turned down the one-lane dirt road until we spotted a place to park right at the mouth of the rapids. Steve jumped out of the car and immediately started getting our tubes ready for the trip. “Are you sure we can make it all the way around and back home by five?” I asked. “Don’t worry, dude” he replied, “I’ll have you home in plenty of time for your date. The river horseshoes around in about a mile, and’ll bring us back within walking distance of here.” I can’t say I had much faith in Steve’s navigational skills, but I complied anyway. It was only 9:00am, and I was pretty sure we could make it back in time for my first date with Melissa.
We made our way down the hard dirt path to the bank. The rushing waters and majestic rock walls were more friendly and inviting than I had envisioned. We wasted no time and jumped right in.
The river immediately pulled us in and directed us swiftly with the current. I recall being overcome with a sense of breezy relaxation, and decided to give in to the will of the river. I kicked back in my inner tube, closed my eyes, and let the cool waters rush on below me.
Minutes seemed like seconds as I floated and dreamed about the possibilities that could occur that night with the angelic and beautiful Melissa Jenson. My thoughts and dreams swirled on and on with the rhythm of the current. When I finally opened my eyes, I realized that the running river had slowed to a crawl, and then to a complete stop. Steve was, apparently, waking up to the same discovery. The scene in front of us more resembled a swamp than a river. The water had taken on the consistency of chocolate milk and, in the distance, I could see a thin layer of green algae growing on the surface. “ What do we do now?” I asked. “We gotta be close to the hook.” He replied, “ Lets keep moving forward. I’m sure the river will pick up soon anyway.”
Ahead of us, the view was bleak. On the right bank, thick brush and briars twisted to the surface as if attempting to retreat to the shores. On the left was a jagged bluff that jutted up from the water and loomed fifteen feet over our heads. There was no way out of the water. The only choices we had were to move back upstream or downstream. I agreed with Steve, and we opted for the latter.
Trepidation filled my heart as we paddled on through the mucky, stagnant water. I tried to refrain from thinking about what was lurking beneath the surface, just inches from my body. We pushed on until our arms and legs became weary and our heads swooned with concerned anticipation. The landscape didn’t change. Out of frustration, Steve decide to ditch his inner –tube, and swim ahead to see what fate had in store for us. He rolled off his tube expecting to tread in the deep waters but, instead, his feet sunk into the muddy bottom. He stood up and laughed hysterically, exclaiming, “ This water’s only four feet deep!” With this brilliant discovery, we decided to walk the riverbed and push our floats in front of us.
Time seemed to stand still as we forged on. Twenty minutes turned into an hour, an hour turned into two hours, and on and on. I could tell that it was getting close to noon. The sun was directly overhead burning the flesh on the back of my neck and the early pangs of hunger were beginning to develop in my stomach. I can recall feeling my feet softening and succumbing to the nature of the surrounding water. That was about the time I discovered the first leach. It was the first of many for both of us and became a constant source of mental, emotional, and physical drain. At that point, I remember thinking to myself; “This could not get any worse”.
The first clouds didn’t phase us; in fact, we welcomed the relief from the relentless sun. The first bit of rain didn’t bother us much either. We were already wet, and becoming wetter was not only the least of our worries, but impossible. Our concerns began when the skies darkened and we heard the first clap of thunder and saw the first bolt of lightning. Our surroundings had still not changed, and there was still no escape from the water. We had become nothing more than floating lightening rods, and we knew it. For the first time, I could see fear in Steve’s eyes.
The rain became a storm, and then a deluge. I could barely see Steve who was only a couple of feet ahead of me. I remember the sound, like continuous applause, as the racing droplets dented the surface of the liquid surrounding us. Suddenly, through the noise, I could here Steve screaming, “ Over here! Over here!” I rubbed the rain from my eyes, and peered in Steve’s direction. Just ahead on the right shore, was what appeared to be a clearing. We made our way over to the bank and found the clearing was, in fact, a cornfield. With a sigh of relief, we crawled out of the water and lay on the bank in the rain, happy to be out of the river at last.
The skies finally began to clear, and we started on our way through the dead stalks of corn. Sharp broken cornstalks cut into our bare feet like razors. We wandered forward trying to avoid the worst parts of the terrain. We had no idea where we were and no clue which direction we were going. It was getting close to dusk, and we needed to find our way back to civilization soon. I continued to lurch forward and began to feel tears well up in my eyes, not because of the pain, but because of the frustration and the feeling of helplessness brought on by all the events of the day. Just then, a light caught the corner of my eye. Steve saw it too and we both gave a sigh of relief knowing that a road was just ahead.
When we reached the road, an old, familiar friend greeted us. We had somehow stumbled out onto the very winding dirt road that we had traveled in on. As I recall, the one-mile hike back to the car was a slow and arduous one. Our bodies were beaten and our feet were cut and bloodied, but there was a sense of relief in the air between us.
I hadn’t thought about Melissa and our date for several hours. Somehow, self-preservation had consumed my thoughts and allowed little room for anything else. I arrived home at 9:00pm, and made a mad dash to the telephone. I dialed the number and the phone on the other end rang once, then twice then a soft voice broke in from across the line, “Hello?”. My response, “ Hello Mel-?” was all I had time to get out before I heard the “click” from the other end. That was the end of our conversation, as well as our relationship.
I saw Melissa Jenson recently at a party. I didn’t approach her. She had been drinking and was trying very hard to be the life of the party. Her boyfriend cowered behind her looking haggard and mentally beaten. I glanced over at my lovely wife and had to smile. I remember feeling lucky; knowing that fate had been on my side.]]> General xml-rss2.php?itemid=7 Tue, 4 Jul 2006 09:02:00 -0700 xml-rss2.php?itemid=6 ]]> Video Editing xml-rss2.php?itemid=6 Wed, 3 May 2006 07:08:00 -0700 xml-rss2.php?itemid=9 How can this happen? The answer?... It can't.
So what is the persuasion that would cause a person to chuck his left Nike-Shock out onto the shoulder of I-24? What happens when they get where they are going? Do they just cautiously limp into the IHOP? The sign doesn’t say, “No shirt No shoe no Service”, it’s clearly marked as being plural. If guys are simply walking around sans une chaussure, do they occasionally have to purchase only the jettisoned one? Can they even do that? I always assumed you had to buy those things in pairs.
If anyone knows if there is a purpose, please step forward. Could it be a gang-territory sign? Perhaps the work of Juggalo's?...A symbol for “free WI-FI here”? …A cheap advertising campaign for Nike, “Just Do It”? Or, most horribly, could there possibly be a disembodied foot within?
Who knows?]]> Muse xml-rss2.php?itemid=9 Thu, 3 Mar 2005 09:16:00 -0700