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6/25/04 -- 1:53 a.m.

Today reeked of death, both figurative and literal.

M's father was taken to the hospital after passing out at a red light. They were going to release him from the hospital, but he started feeling worse, so they're keeping him in for more tests. I have no doubt that they'll figure it out and he'll be alright, but it gets you to thinking, you know? I can tell he's a good, honorable man -- and that's a lot more important than most things in this world.

A coworker went into the hospital for an emergency appendectomy. They caught it in the very early stages, and she was recovering nicely when I went to see her, but the hospital gives everyone that same fading pallor. I couldn't help but think about how, in her last days, Granny Nell looked just like her mama, and how when my dad was getting his hernia operation, his profile and his drugged behavior matched Granny Nell's (kinda funny, actually). And how he resembles his father in a lot of ways, and how when I skinnier and my dad was fatter, I could see the family cheekbones settling in on me as well. Forty pounds later, I've pretty much taken care of that.

Afterwards, in the hospital parking lot, as I was talking to a friend before we left, we heard this incredible keening coming from up the hill. Someone was getting bad news -- presumably someone had died -- and the grief cut through the trees and you could see the family members scrambling to calm at least one person down. Apparently, the family members were all getting there at the same time, many of them with no idea what was going on. You could see grandmothers clutching their heads as they got the news, confused children being tossed about by tides of emotion from their elders, and rough-looking blue-collar men struggling weakly and in vain to restrain their women's emotions. Sorrow practically cascaded down the hill towards us, and our only real option was to flee after being slapped into silence, my friend to a bathtub installation that was waiting on him, and me to a sandwich and some beers while I talked to pretty much no one.

6/24/04 -- 12:49 a.m.

Conversations that make you realize you're a lil' bit different, and that you're OK with that (#1 in a series):

Me and M, sitting in a booth with some co-workers at a restaurant: "Oh, look, the spelling bee's on! I wish they had the sound on!"

Co-worker: "You're kidding, right?"

Me and M: "No, we're going to watch the replay tonight when we get home."

Co-worker: "You're kidding, right?"

06/15/04 -- 12:41 a.m.

Miscellaneous Stuff:

 

06/02/04 -- 12:41 a.m.

Memorial Day typically offers a singular joy: staying out of my Hellish commute for at least one day of the week. I've had a lot of close calls on the road lately (Including an 18-wheeler nearly flattening me on my way out of Nashville -- I'm sure there's a country song in that. "A trucker smooshed my baby flat, so now I can't eat at the Huddle House when those big rigs are there. Are you out there, Teddy Bear?" That sort of thing.

Anyway, M and I decided to at least get out and do something, so we walked through Clemson's botanical gardens. I've been to the botanical gardens a couple of times in the past -- usually at about two in the morning with a six-pack in hand (don't worry, I left only footsteps). It's a pretty place, with a couple of ponds, lots and lots of acreage of cultivated bushes and such, and walking trails. We spent a few hours out there and had a fine old time.

After that, we went into Clemson and just sat around with some friends, knocking back beers, sweet tea, and various overcooked appetizers. It was so much fun, and made us realize how much we're going to miss the area when we move closer to Greenville. We both have histories in the upstate, but not in Greenville, and we know we're never going to be part of that town. We're only moving there because that's where we work and will probably work at any subsequent jobs (and we know there will be subsequent jobs -- we're way past the days of spending your life under one banner).

So we're just sitting there, taking in the sun, overworking the waitresses with copious and confusing drink orders, and just enjoying the simple pleasure of sitting with friends. M and I are pretty much lightweights now, long past our glory years of college-age binge consumption. But we held our own pretty well, and before long we were leaving the normally Hellish confines of Tiger Town Tavern to the normally Hellish confines of TDs. Ordinarily, anyone with half a brain would stay clear of these typical college bars, but with the students gone, it was alright. Besides, it always gives me a chuckle to sit on the patio of Tiger Town and remember Niel Brooks and Patrick Ritter standing on a tiny stage, about to sing a song that mentioned Jesus, and Niel making absolutely no friends by muttering into the mic, "Jesus ain't never been in this place. Hell, he ain't ever been on this street."

Along the way, we came across many examples of a breed I'd forgotten about: the all-day drinker. Clemson has a lot of these, especially on the weekends. The example I remember is of a girl, who someone in our group knew, waving at a trunk-thumping car full of black guys, yelling, "Whoo-hooo! What are we, black, now?" We quickly made our way to TDs.

Once there, we ran into the same girl, and she was ranting about her boyfriend. "I was in here sitting with a table full of black folks!" she fumed. "We were having a good ol' time! But my boyfriend made me get up! He didn't want me to get accepted! He didn't want me to get accepted!"

So we just nod, smile politely, and watch as her boyfriend cautiously leads her away.

It struck us as odd, because we had just been having a discussion about how segregated the social aspects of Clemson are. Apart from the football players hitting the dance clubs, you don't see many African-Americans in downtown Clemson at night. So it gives you this erroneous impression that Clemson's student makeup is different than it is. It's very weird, and I don't know why it is like that. At the local misfit bar, you get all kinds of folks - misfits are misfits, after all, but in the "popular" clubs, the frat culture holds sway, and it gets more and more disturbing the more you look at it.