A….

Okay! Ok! I’ll start doing this again.

I’ve taken a break… mostly due to my recent maxillofacial surgery. My lackluster performance in writing regularly ( or at all) is mostly due to the laziness induced by recovery time. I thought, previously, that I would share all my surgery adventures and recovery experiences through this online journal (blog). At the end, I found it a little too personal…. and gee golly I’m just so reserved sometimes. I never want to seem too emotional and introspective… especially electronically… GAgH!

Here are a few highlights though!

1. During my time at the hospital, every time I went to the bathroom I swore I was peeing in Spanish.
2. My Dad accidentally gave me my roommate’s urinal to use.
3. I didn’t swell as much as the doctor’s anticipated.
4. My ICU nurse could have been pulled straight from SCRUBS.
5. I was in surgery for 12 hours and they didn’t have to shave my hair.
6. My roommate in the hospital was an old Hispanic man who came in screaming, “CERVEZA! CERVEZA!”
7. There was a weird guy hooked up to a machine that walked the halls all night long and always made an effort to stare at me.
8. When I sleep, my head pops.
9. I’ve learned that humans, whether you realize it or not, really enjoy the action of chewing. It makes eating a lot more enjoyable and satisfying.
10. In all seriousness, I have a great bunch of family and friends.

Chris Bradley got married yesterday and it was the first wedding ceremony that I really enjoyed. The priest performed a scene from When Harry Met Sally and really had his Jewish impersonation down. The songs were perfect too.

By the way.. Merry Christmas! Here’s my nephew….

Yes we can.

I like to post conversations that my grandmother participates in. She has become a great character in my online writing. Well… she’s much more to me than just a character… she’s a million wonderful things. I appreciate her more than words can express. So here we go…. 

I had just voted in my little dinky polling place. My hands steered my car towards town while my chest swelled with America. Then my grandmother called. Below is the conversation. 

Jeff: Hello!?

Murner: Honey, D’you vote? 

J: Oh yes. Did you?

M: Me and your papa tried voting during lunch but the line was soooo long. We came back later in the afternoon and we didn’t have to wait 15 minutes. 

J: Well…. good.

M: What are you doing?

J: Driving towards downtown. I’m meeting with some friends to watch the results on tv. 

M: Well that sounds fun….. Good luck tonight. 

J: haha… you too Murner. 

M: Okay honey, love you. 

J: Love you too. Bye. 

M: M’bye. 

Good luck. Wow. 

 

Didn’t the sun shine brighter today?

Thicket of Things

Yesterday, I received The Book of Forest and Thicket – Trees, Shrubs, and Wildflowers of Eastern North America by John Eastman and illustrations by Amelia Hansen.

So, this means that I am now beginning my independent study into the forest and thicket. This is in an effort to better enjoy the outdoors and to gain the ability to impress women on the trail.

—-

“Look darling – that’s a sassafras.”

I crush it’s leaves between my fingers

“Smell.”

“Ohhhh ahhhh, it smells like fruit loops! Jeff Prater you’re so amazing and wonderful”

Jeff Prater and woman on the trail trade butterfly kisses

—-

Well, really, its more so I can enjoy the outdoors and be more aware of the environment that I trample in.

Beware! This blog will be littered with plant information soon.

Did you know that a globular mass of leaves and other plant material in a high-hangning grapevine is probably the summer nest of a red squirrel? Cool huh? 

The Great Wallenda

This weekend I visited a huge hole in the ground – the Tullulah Gorge. The most exciting thing to happen at the gorge (minus the thousands of years it took for the Tallulah River to gut through the Tullulah dome rock formation creating the gorge) is the Great Wallenda’s tightrope walk in 1970.

The Great Wallenda came from a long line of German tightrope walkers. His family had an act where they formed human pyramids and rode across wires on bicycles. (Please picture early 20^th century – black and white – daredevil romanticism/adventurism/side showism) The Great Wallenda continued tightrope walking even after numerous tightrope tragedies that claimed many of his family members.  

While he did successfully complete the Tallulah Gorge tightrope walk, he later died attempting a walk in San Jose 9 years later at 73 years old. He claimed he knew he would make each walk successfully after his third step. I don’t know at what step in San Jose became his last.

Its easy to write off tightrope walking as imprudent and risky. GW certainly walked the fine tightrope between idiocy and adventurous living, but at least he was walking. 

I’m just saying…

And 

Thank you.

Murner called me today.

“Honey, you have company?”

“No, hahah it’s 11 am, why what’s up? Everything okay?”

“Well, I cooked green beans and cornbread last night. You want some for lunch today? You have enough gas to get up here?” (Her house is less than a mile away from mine, but yesterday I drove from Simpsonville to my house on “E” due to the gas shortage conspiracy.)

“Sure, I’ll shower and be on my way.”

Murner prepared a very nice box for me. She even added a few things.

Green beans, cornbread, tomato, baked sweet potato, apples, candy bar.

I’ve always had a hard time accepting anything – birthday gifts, candy bars, help with homework, $$$, etc. I contribute it to an awkward pride that I wear on my sleeve, belt and in my socks.

“– we are here to learn to endure the beams of love –“

Anne Lamont from Traveling Mercies 

Thank you. 

The Devil’s tail

This American Life is my favorite part of radio. You can access it here: http://www.thislife.org/Default.aspx

I wish that every time I spoke there was Jazz in the background or a sweet drum and bass making my sentences cooler. That’s radio though, not everyday life. This show is something special.

The episode that aired 9/5/08 – I really enjoyed “Act 2″ and “Act 3″

Act 2 was a story about the “voice”

You know the voice that tells you that you’re perfect and stupid. The little guy that makes excuses for you – “its not you, its them.” It can be our prefect poison and our fighting spirit.

Act 3 was a story about a guy that goes to battle with a demon. The battlefield – his university classroom. He grew up a fundamentalist Christian and began questioning his lifelong beliefs once he started conquering college. Then one day – his professor said that the next class, they would have a guest speaker – a medium that would channel a demon. She would take questions. His story chronicles his paranoia, preparation for battle and the loss of his faith. 

I like this episode so much because its all about inner demons. The way we wrestle with the devil’s tail – the constant fight to get it right. You know, “it.”

Rusul Jalal

This is Rusul. She’s 7 year’s old and here in Greenville from Iraq to receive treatment for injuries she suffered during a US air attack in her hometown – Hasswa. 

On Sept. 13, at Coffee Underground, Dry Ridge productions is having a nearly all day concert for her benefit. Admission is free but donations are strongly encouraged as all the proceeds go to Rusul. For more information about her, I encourage a google search. The organization No More Victims has brought her to Greenville, so their website is a great place to go for more information about her. 

You should come. The lineup is as follows. 

2:00 Austin Webb

2:45 Jim Bell 

3:15 Rachael Gallman 

4:15 Michael King

4:45 The Snacks

5:15 Me

5:45 David Funderburk 

6:15 O Mello Cello Tree

6:45 Andrea Miller 

7:15 Wasted Wine

8:00 Hannah Baker 

8:30 Niel Brooks

9:30 Larry Hoskinson 

If you come during my set, I plan on providing most people in the audience with a kazoo for an interactive song. You can keep it after! Wha!

the Effort in Living

Every time I get sick, I think it just might be the end.

“It’s cancer. It’s probably colon cancer. I’ll be in the papers. Everyone is shocked that I have colon cancer because I’m so young. Or maybe its lung cancer and I’ll blame second hand smoke… always being careful not to blame my dad or LBowes or my friends from high school. “

Last night, I drowned in tussin and conjured up some mint tea. Today, I’m feeling almost cured. There was a point when I told people that every time I woke up I’d yell, “I’VE MADE IT!” I’d always note that I recognized the everyday effort it takes to stay alive. Constantly breathing – Finding food – !LOOKing OUT! for danger.

Confession – it’s not everyday that I yell, “I’VE MADE IT!”

Constantly – I take for granted the effort it takes to stay living. Understandable. No one thinks about that all the time…I wish I could stay more aware of the energy just spent living – I’m certain I’d live more.

jumping out of airplanes, eating tangerines, kissing animals, hugging grandparents

a song

Last night, I had the pleasure in watching David Funderburk, Lynn Holcombe (Clyde vs. Crocodiles) and Noel Thrasher play music. They’re all great and I was equally enamored with all of them… especially their interactive tunes. Anyhow, I wanted to further stress and propel my proposed idea I’ve grasped in creating a selfless blog (where I don’t talk about me but promote others). Not that I succeed in that goal because a blog is inherently all about the writer’s ideas, work experience, social interactions, cultural likings and love life. BUT! Putting reality to the side for more than a moment – Let me go on and on and on about how much I truly envy David Funderburk’s song writing ability. His songs are cleverly prosed, intimately personal, and relatable. Oh, forget the the going on and on… I’ll post lyrics to one of his songs instead. He didn’t play this last night but it is one of my favorites. 

Oh also, Justin Brewer from his spot in the audience sang every song David sang last night, often times belting out too loud with such emotional aspiration that it would have been embarrassing if it hadn’t been funny or Justin. A true fan. 

the song…. La Petite Mort (a little death) 

On Vanderbilt land, I sleep in the dark and wait til the bitter end when I’ll flee from the park, and I doubt that you’d see me til I creep up your path; I sink my teeth with raging love, never wrath. Whore of Babylon above me, you can ride me til the end, and when your done with my love, I’ll eat you in your bed. I’m a wildcat, I’m a wildcat, 10 horns and seven heads. I’ll send you to 7th heaven with a little death. I haunt through the bushes with my skulls and my bones. There’s no hunter here fierce enough to wear my coat. I prey in the moonlight with my jaws open wide, and I howl for Maria. She’s my bird and my bride. She mourns her beloved who’s been crucified like a scarecrow, hanging out on the hillside. She’s a black one, she’s a black one, she’s the only bird left, and her body aint afraid of a little death. Whore of Babylon above me, you can ride me til the end, and when your done with my love, I’ll eat you in your bed. I’m a wildcat, I’m a wildcat, 10 horns and seven heads. I’ll send you to 7th heaven with a little death.