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Messages - East Coast Hustle

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Thanks, I like you guys too!

I'm OK. I'm probably, overall, better right now than I've been since I lost the ship job. Life is mostly pretty good. It's just, holy fuck that was a hell of a weekend.

And given the nature of some of the details of the story, I can't really vent about it anywhere else so thank you all for listening when nobody else is allowed to.

This may sounds bad, but I have a certain sympathy for that feeling of wanting to do thing you just can't do with the good people in your life. At times, I have been consumed with these thoughts in a heavily obsessive way.

I think it's important to express those thoughts and realize that they're pretty common. When my son was a baby and would not stop screaming, always colicky, I had violent thoughts, terrible thoughts. Looking back I definitely experienced either some male version of postpartum depression or some sympathetic version of it or something. The short amount of time we each get with the people that matter most is definitely the best thing in life, IMO.

Yeah, I get that feeling too sometimes but I don't think this is that, it's more that this is probably the only chance I'll ever have to completely realize my personal culinary vision AND my vision of what should be made of a place that's more "home" to me than any house I've ever lived in (I was bussing tables at this place when I was 8 - it's deeply embedded in the fabric of my being). And that doing so will require a devotion so maniacal and complete that it would be physically impossible to do it right and still be able to fulfill my familial responsibilities. And I recognize that and I don't believe that any personal ambition of mine outweighs my responsibility to my daughter but it's a very powerful drive nonetheless.

ECH I hope everything turns out okay. And I know it's your life and all but that was a hell of a good story.

Funny thing is, I usually take a little poetic license with these occasional vignettes. Not much, but just enough to make the narrative flow the way I want. I never fabricate, but I might occasionally exaggerate this or downplay that or swap the order in which things happen for artistic effect.

This is just straight recollection. And if I hadn't lived it myself I wouldn't believe it from someone else.

So the guy who was like a 2nd father to me my whole life and taught me how to cook died 3 weeks ago. I kinda had a feeling, even though it took everyone else by surprise, and had been planning on flying out to Maine just after Christmas to visit. But even that was too late.

So 2 weeks ago I flew out for the funeral. I can count on one hand the number of times in my life I've entered a church to attend a function being held there, religious or otherwise. And now, I can count on one finger the number of times I've entered a church at 1030am with a giant red solo cup that is obviously a bloody mary (complete with ridiculous garnish) in my hand. One person said something to me, but I quickly pointed out how disrespectful everyone else was being by NOT showing up to the funeral with a drink in hand. He would have wanted it that way, and every last person there goddamn knew it for a fact and left me alone, except for Doug. Doug, who walked in with me while stubbing the last of a real Cuban Romeo y Julieta out on the palm of his hand, clapped me on the back harder than you'd think an alcoholic architect from Lawn Guyland possibly could and yelled out "FUCKIN' A RIGHT, KID! FUCKIN' A RIGHT!"

The service was great. We all cried in the appropriate spots, Henley came up from Boston reeking of hashish and played a ripping sax solo in the man's honor before sliding in to a heartbreaking rendition of When the Saints go Marching In, and my hair had literally never looked better on any day ever in my entire life.

Oh, and The Devil Herself was there. But we'll politely pretend that's inconsequential, since the current rules say it should be.

The wake started off great. Like the all-time top 5 ever event we knew it was supposed to be. Open bar, catering by a local company that the man helped start back in the day, done in his style but without being copycat bullshit. I had been down there in the morning before the service icing down the raw bar and shucking oysters so that everything was laid out and ready before the town showed up. I saw at least 90% of the people I wanted to see, which is wildly impressive given how long that list was. We got his real goddamn cannon out of storage, got some black powder and wadding from somewhere, and touched that fucker off way too many times. I made extreme velocity potato salad at some point, using the cannon. I think I smoked a cigarette at some point. I know I smoked a few too many joints. I goddamn know I was really fuckin' drunk for the first time in over 3 years. At some point I did shots with The Devil Herself, but we'll politely pretend that's inconsequential. Because it's supposed to be.

Lloyd died DURING the fucking wake.

He wasn't there, and it wasn't unexpected. He was an 88 year old WW2 vet. Ran away at 16 to join the Navy and ended up storming the beach at Normandy on D-Day. He was in hospice care, probably kicking Death in the balls a time or two before he finally gave up the ghost. But here we are at the wake of one of the very icons of the town and another icon of the town dies. Shit timing.

So that puts a tiny bit of a damper on things, but we've all agreed that we're gonna go down to the backshore a little after sundown and light a huge bonfire and continue getting trashed in honor of these two larger than life people that have just left us. Well, most of us have agreed. Joe has had one too many and wants to go home and bang his wife and take a nap in front of the fire and Ronnie is too shitfaced to drive so for the first time anyone can remember he's gonna leave his car in town and catch a ride home with Joe.

Irony is a cruel motherfucker sometimes.

We got down to the beach, burn permit in hand and giant bag of illegal fireworks in the trunk. We could see some flashing lights up the hill aways on the way out of town but paid it no mind.

Then we heard the distinct sound of a helicopter landing, just up the hill where we saw the flashing lights. Then a car full of frantic friends pulled up to the beach taking a headcount, trying to account for everyone that was part of our core group. Seemed like everyone was accounted for, either at the beach or in the car or still at the bar in town. The only people who had left were Joe, his wife, and Ronnie.

Aww, fuck.

Ronnie never made it home. He left most of his skull and brains on a huge tree on the side of State Route 166. Smart enough for once in his life to not drive home drunk, but not smart enough to wear a fucking seatbelt. Joe's wife is alive, but still in the hospital with a broken back and spinal injuries. She might walk again. Joe is fine, physically. He's looking at 10 years for vehicular homicide and he killed his best friend and maybe paralyzed his wife and some of the group that live in town year-round have agreed to take turns keeping a suicide watch on him until the State takes that over at some point, but he's fine.

Ronnie was a good friend. Might have been the funniest guy I ever knew, DEFINITELY responsible for the absolute single funniest moment of my entire life. That's another story but it's a story involving hillbilly strippers, a biker bar, and assaulting a cop with a giant realistic dildo that was found on the side of the road so I'll tell it someday. He tells it better, but you'll have to settle for my version now.

Now nobody's interested in a bonfire. Sober drivers are identified for those who just want to go home. Drunk drivers can't leave town because the road's closed up the hill and the cops are gonna check everyone before they let them through, so a fair number of us go back downtown to the bar. Including The Devil Herself, but, well, you know.

I woke up in the guest bedroom, which was a relief at first. But those weren't my clothes on the floor and that wasn't me I smelled all over myself.

(This is why I don't take it that far these days with the fucking booze. I can't trust myself. Shit like this makes for great stories, but it also makes for broken homes and child support. I'm a fucking asshole for letting this go down. I need to squash this immediately and make sure it stays squashed forever. It's never that easy, of course. And now it's VERY fucking consequential.)

The morbid nature of my business gave me a good excuse to bail, and Jules is my ride-or-die homie so she was happy to come pick me up and take me to breakfast without asking questions.

Well, any questions about that, anyway. She was more than happy to ask me about what's going to happen to the restaurant now that he's dead.


There's no way the family can afford to keep it, and the girls don't want to run it anyway. They're gonna have to sell it, once everything shakes out in probate.

So I got Jules to take me back to Larry's trailer where I was supposed to be staying, and I started sending emails and making discrete inquiries. Chasing money has never mattered much to me but that doesn't mean I don't know how to scare up some capital when the situation calls for it.

I managed to get back to the airport and on a plane back to Cascadia just before the snow got bad enough to delay or cancel flights.

So that's how I find myself sitting here in my underwear this first Friday night in December toasting the recently dead, hoping The Devil stays quiet, and trying to decide if I want to accept the offer to go back to where it all began and play with $2mil of someone else's money and give up probably everything that's good in my life to realize this insane vision I have.

So how was your guys' Thanksgiving?

Techmology and Scientism / Re: I need someone smarter than me to parse this
« on: December 03, 2016, 07:23:14 am »
Thanks for the excellent critique!

Beyond the wall / Re: A New Theory Regarding The Fermi Paradox
« on: December 02, 2016, 08:35:08 am »
Humans would absolutely be the cockroaches of the galaxy, too. :lulz:

Techmology and Scientism / Re: I need someone smarter than me to parse this
« on: December 02, 2016, 08:33:36 am »
This is right up my alley, but I don't have time at the moment to read it. I'll try to get to it tomorrow morning when I'm actually fresh and bushy-tailed and not fucking off on the internets while training an undergrad on the scope.

Awesome! I was really hoping to hear your take on this, I kinda figured it was in your wheelhouse.

Techmology and Scientism / Re: I need someone smarter than me to parse this
« on: December 01, 2016, 07:24:12 pm »
All very valid criticisms, but not really touching on the part of the article I found interesting, which was the bit about the math inferring that there is very likely a single-source origin for consciousness.

Techmology and Scientism / Re: Somehow, not the future I saw coming.
« on: December 01, 2016, 08:55:42 am »
I wonder if the spinach is edible? Article didn't mention one way or another.

Technically yes, but the resulting sharts will actually tear your shorts. It's not a good look.

Aneristic Illusions / Re: Unlimited Brazilian Hilarity Thread
« on: December 01, 2016, 08:50:08 am »
I think I have a crush on Brazil. :lulz:

Techmology and Scientism / I need someone smarter than me to parse this
« on: December 01, 2016, 08:29:33 am »
If I read this correctly, this guy has essentially devised a mathematical model for consciousness that seems to completely by accident have also found God, though it doesn't appear as though he sees it that way.

Gefter: The world is just other conscious agents?

Hoffman: I call it conscious realism: Objective reality is just conscious agents, just points of view. Interestingly, I can take two conscious agents and have them interact, and the mathematical structure of that interaction also satisfies the definition of a conscious agent. This mathematics is telling me something. I can take two minds, and they can generate a new, unified single mind. Hereís a concrete example. We have two hemispheres in our brain. But when you do a split-brain operation, a complete transection of the corpus callosum, you get clear evidence of two separate consciousnesses. Before that slicing happened, it seemed there was a single unified consciousness. So itís not implausible that there is a single conscious agent. And yet itís also the case that there are two conscious agents there, and you can see that when theyíre split. I didnít expect that, the mathematics forced me to recognize this. It suggests that I can take separate observers, put them together and create new observers, and keep doing this ad infinitum. Itís conscious agents all the way down.

The whole article is pretty fascinating and seems, upon first superficial glance, to not be complete mumbo-jumbo bullshit. I'm really curious to hear what some of the people here who are educated in relevant fields have to say about this.

Aneristic Illusions / Re: Unlimited Brazilian Hilarity Thread
« on: November 30, 2016, 06:06:00 pm »
Yeah, that plane crash is a serious punch in the balls. Those guys were a hell of a cinderella story. Word is the national federation is gonna bend some rules and give them 3 years protection from relegation and some favorable exemptions to some of the transfer rules. Heard that several top-tier European clubs are willing to hook them up with some pretty sweet loans and transfer deals as well. Sounds like there's a real groundswell of support in the soccer community. Were the coaches and/or front office personnel on the plane as well or was it mostly just players?

Aneristic Illusions / Re: Protestors Are Assholes
« on: November 17, 2016, 05:50:10 pm »
There's definitely an asshole in this conversation, but I don't think it's got anything to do with protesters.

Beyond the wall / Re: Split from turning purple
« on: November 16, 2016, 07:59:51 pm »
This guy is such a fucking obvious weasel.

He only chose fascism because he thinks it's gonna be the winner. He's not even truly committed to Sparkle Motion.

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