I can't stop Yacking!

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Tim Ohlers, the Best of Manhattan Grounds

Is a fantastic musician who plays Wednesday evenings at Manhattan grounds.

He plays folk and jazz, and sometimes a clittle classic rock, but we prefer the jazz, the folk, and the tea.

The Grounds is pretty typical in the way of customers and staff. The owner at Manhattan Grounds is exceptional. She treats her customers very well, works hard to have a nice place.
The staff isn't much to speak of, you'd be lucky to have a good conversation if you can even get them to talk to you, but that's not what they're there for. They're there to make great coffee, hot tea, and be rude enough to you that you know you're not at a bar.

As far as customer base goes . . . strange strange strange! Tweaked, spiked, sweating for rest kind of maniacs. Granted, no stranger than any other coffee house crowd. Maybe i'm just referring to Toledoans and not just the Grounds' customer base. More snobbish than chronic, compulsive, and "right" jazz fans. I'd say i'm one of them, and have have been on a handful of occassions, but I'm just too chill.

Which brings me back to Tim Ohlers. A fine musician and person. One who appreciates gets appreciation. From me, anyway.


On a completely different note: Would anyone have any insight as to why i get along better with older women than young women. Older women think I'm a heartbreak, and that the girls must go crazy over me. The girls would prefer to have nothing to do with me, maybe not me personally, but my at least in my direction. My guess is that most of these women have lived a while and can see quality when it's there, and the other is that it's because there's no possibility of sex, so they can be open with their affection/kindness.

I don't know what it is, but I could go on a date with a 42 yr old this weekend, no problem. May age? I don't even know any women my age.

almost 26 and I can't wait to be older. Then maybe the women my age won't be such dumb bitches.

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Thursday, March 22, 2007

severe progress

I realize that you could just respond, "hey, jackie, you're in toledo.



and you suck."

But I caution you to hesitate while you pause a moment.

But seriously, where are all the quality people here. Where do they hang out?
See, I know there's cool people in toledo, I've met some and am one of them, but I tell you, I just don't meet many.

People who:
are not consumed with consumerism
are awake, or wake up regularly, or semi-annually
appreciate a finely rolled J
are connected to their environment
eat well
go to sleep at night and do things during the day
play hacky-sack
play foosball
have a decent or semi-mainstream music taste
intelligent and can actually hold a conversation
don't dominate a conversation
listen, at least some of the time
appreciate their bodies, and use them
generally pay attention to what they are doing.

Are there more people like this in toledo?

I tell you, most new people I meet, especially women, think immediately that since I'm interested in them that I want to fuck them, or want a relationship. Get over yourself. And the men, wow, what tough guys. Enjoy some humility just every once in a while.

I don't drink, I smoke pot, and i'm no tree-hugger
I play yoga, I play video games
I work out, I go out
I rest when it's time to rest and wake up in the mornings
I listen, and get better at it all the time, really listening
I'm kind to my cat
I clean my apartment
I've grown my hair long, but not ratty
I eat well but I'm not a vegetarian, and thank god for that


Companionship, that is something. That is something.
My cat gives companionship. In so I realize that one really needs it from their own species. I have good friends, none of which share my lifestyle, but still we are able to live and have fun together.
It seems to me that we as humans choose to be so poor, emotionally and spiritually running around in our own fantasies. I know, because I've done it too.

So wake up!

Wake up Toledo people, I won't be here long

Wake up Toledo people, neither will you.

The finger points to the moon . . .

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