So, There I Was…


Sitting there minding my own business and it came to me like a swift but careful kick to the junk.

I’m lucky.

For one, I have awesome friends. I have friends that take care of me when I don’t even need it and of course, I’m fortunate enough to have friends who would help me move, paint, or destroy loads of sheet rock at a moment’s notice. I even have friends who are much smarter, richer, and cooler than I could ever be. In fact, those fine individuals are some of my most sought after goals in life.

So to speak.

In either case, I wanted to shoot out a “shout out” to the people who have guided, persuaded, and dragged me off the couch to make a better life for myself. It’s not only great to be among great people, but when those same people share their greatness with you without hesistation or resistance, it become something completely different.

So, yeah, I’m lucky all right and without one shamrock to show for it.

M.C. Davis

Sammy Snackbag!

So, the other day as I walked the humid streets of DC, I realized that I haven’t spoken much about little Sammy, who, if I may, is becoming a little doggie mayor of this fine city and to his own cause, he’s slowly realizing this.

So, the other day, as we strolled to the doggie park–sans leash I might add–he quickly took in the scene of other dogs, then without too much thought, he ran into the sea of fur, wagging tails, perky ears, and of course, wet noses smelling crotches and, er,…um, well, you know. At any rate, it’s been a true blessing for the little guy because he has by default taken on a new place like DC, that is in itself very different from Maine, and grown into his own.

Of course, he had no choice and if he did, he most likely would not have decided otherwise.

Oh well, the choices we make.

On another note, work is great! Great crew! Good energy and of course, enough ragging to make Andrew Dice Clay retire from the business. In either case, happy to be there and happy to have a crew of guys (and one gal I might add) that will carry me through the next few years with too many laughs to count.

So, that’s it for now. Been a long week. Started a routine of running into work which is about 3.5 miles. Of course, my  work day begins at 0530, which means I start running into the wee hours of the morning at 0400.

So, if for any reason I disappear from the world due to a misfortune of being, let’s say, robbed and killed at gunpoint for my Ipod at 400am, here is my route:

Corcoran to NH then down 18th until you reach M Street. Follow M until you reach the Rocky Creek Parkway then head towards the Memorial Bridge. Cross the Bridge then head through the trail until you reach the parking lot.

Nah, I’m not paranoid. Just cautious.

M.C. Davis

Those Were The Days

Those Were The Days

Remember the time
you fell, and reminded me
of our space together
and our first
walks inside our
stormy house?
Yes, those were
the days when
love only began
the day
and not ended it.

Remember the time
we broke up
and the rain came every
year to
remind us of what
could have been?
Yes, those were
the days
inside glory that
passed our moment
to another.

Remember the time
you spoke in tongues
and I stood
by and smiled
because I knew you
were in search of
Him? Yes, those were the days
where our connection
firm and without the
frailties of war
or collateral damages.

See, I remember those
days simply
because they
linger inside our
souls, and without
you standing close,
I would find
myself with
no time to
mend those memories
and a second less
without you.

M.C. Davis

It’s Hot Like Cat Shit!

…and since I’ve never felt the heat of cat shit, I can only assume it’s hot and not friendly.

So, DC is quite the city of late: hot, hot, and yep, you guessed it, hot.

The average day lingers around 100 degrees and the pace of leaving the house to the metro is deliberate and non forceful. I was supposed to be in Maine this past weekend to spend time with my man Kyle who’s getting married but you know how it is…when you get your hopes up, there is a dutiful element of a shoe dropping somewhere in the midst. Between my work schedule and the prices of airline tickets, there was just no budging on either end of the financial stick.

So, I stuck it out in the DC heat.

In the meantime, my car was officially broken into a few days ago and to be honest, I’m not too angry about it. Albeit, nothing was destroyed except the window and most of the loose papers inside the vehicle were simply that, loose papers. I suppose the days of leaving the keys in the car overnight or leaving the car running while I grab some chips and a soda from Cumby’s are over.

Yeah, I’d say so.

Thank goodness for insurance and that wonderful thing called a car alarm that I’ll have to invest in soon.

Also, I met a really cool guy this week while walking Mr.  Sammy Snackbag. He was walking his well behaved daughter-dog Cecelia who, by the way, loves Sammy and vice versa. So, a new connection with a dog owner and a cool personality in tow, a new guy in DC couldn’t ask for anything more. He reminds me of how friendship should start: unfiltered, approachable, and full of laughs.

So, I think we’ll kick it for a while to come.

Work has also come into a solid play schedule. I’ve finally made it into my team and on a descent schedule, which means I can have a social life that isn’t dependent on a random order of events that only puts me into a “day-to-day” approach. It’s nice to have a job since most of this time I’ve been sitting at the “new guy desk” chipping away at the novel that will become the death of me,

All in all, pretty quiet week. Bikram was quite different this week since the heat has made the experience on the inside quite controversial in deciding to go to class.  It actually felt cool when I left and it was only later that I found out that outside was 98 degrees with a 103 heat index.

Yeah, I’m crazy. I left the heat to go into more heat, then 90 minutes later, I emerged back into the same heat I left 90 minutes prior.

So, that’s it. DC is still hot and fortunately for me, not hot enough for me to fall out of love with it.

M.C. Davis


Well, last night was a life changing moment for me and for once in my life, I questioned every second of what I was doing with my life, and the complete and total existence of why things just plain happen. And to boot, I did it all in a sweaty-filled room with nothing but my draws on surrounded by other women and men with little clothing. Also, and to make this event even more spectacular, there wasn’t any sexual tension or embarrassment from either gender and every so often, the blower that spewed out the immense hot heat would be turned up by a guy who had a voice that could lull a T-Rex to sleep.

I experienced Bikram Yoga.

At first, this was kind of a scary choice for me to do since my own fitness level, at least from my enjoyment, is fairly fit and ready for the next marathon, or two. So, choosing a yoga class of this nature by far exceeded what I expected from the class and myself.  For some of you out there who just happen to not know what Bikram Yoga is, let me detail my own personal process in the most succinct and concise manner possible.

Drink, listen, breathe, and stretch.

It’s by far the most relaxing event I’ve ever experienced (from a mental and physical connection) but at the same time, it’s the scariest side of yourself that perhaps you’d like to see. There were times where I would lose focus to find that “happy place” that only people read about in grad school or when the instructor would talk, I felt like he was breathing right into my ear slowing etching my moves into his moves and his air movements into my own air movements. I would focus away from the clock–damn clock–and for moments at a time, even though the session was 90 minutes long, time would linger one moment, then shift into upper drive at other moments. It was surreal and pleasant but nerve wrecking and tortuous from anything you’ve ever believed about the condition of the human body and the power of your mind.

And this was only the first day, I have 6 more days to go.

So, I’ve decided to cancel my gym membership to devote the $60 a month to Bikram Yoga. The gym, for all its worth in gold, present a slight cultural challenge that Bikram has an abundance of.

Complete growth.

M.C. Davis

Oh, Yeah! You’re Getting The Hose Too!

So, this week has been a unique one for me. For one, my faucet is becoming like a new member of the family that slowly drives you insane from all the “Back in my day” comments. In this case, the faucet is quietly reminding me of when it was quietly snugged in its cardboard box with all the comforts of home-cooking, fireplace motifs, and of course, a nice warm Styrofoam body to snuggle up to. But like the thunder from above, I dragged it out from its existence, tore its house into pieces, and tapped it inside a sink hole that neither cares for the faucet, or the horse it rode in on.

Out of resistance I’m sure, there’s a small leak that’s coming from one of the faucet legs which has forced into what I have learned to call the Dump The Water Or You’ll Get The Hose Again phase. This is where I have to every night (and even some mornings and afternoons) dump about a gazillion gallons of water down the sink from the IKEA bucket that’s strategically placed under the sink to catch every drop of water that falls from the leaky faucet. Troy came down but to no avail, which has led me further straight down into what I have learned to call the “Swipe The Card Or You’ll Get The Hose Again phase. This is where I hire a plumber who will in most cases, financially rape the hell out of me due to my look of pure desperation and exhaustion. This will in turn cause an even greater need to pay the guy whatever he needs because believe it or not, having a leaky sink doesn’t bode well for an active social life.

For one, you can’t stay out past midnight because everyone knows that slow drip of the water will increase at a rapid rate until you return due to the lofty hands of Mr. Murphy. Two, you can’t have anyone over for a quiet evening without a disclaimer that states that the noise coming from under the sink is nothing really, just some mice playing on the beach. Third, slight stages of paranoia will undoubtedly sneak in creating visions of water flooding from under the sink, swallowing your home, and the surrounding neighborhood. And that’s not even the worse part: you will have to call your insurance company and make up a convincing story.


So, yes, my week has been fun but today, I will meet and greet the plumber who I’m sure has already made arrangements for the financial rape. For this evolution, which I have learned to call theOh Yes, I Know You’re Going To Give Me The Hose Anyway So Just Make It Quick phase where you simply give in to the pressures of being a homeowner and take what you’re given.

I consider this phase the easiest.

So, yes, this week is lovely but after the plumber’s visit today, I’m looking forward to an active social life with all the things that make the world go around…like ice cream, cake, and a few cookies for color.

M.C. Davis

Know Thy Neighbors!

…well, sometimes you don’t have any choice.

This workweek has been quite relaxing and even to the point of being enjoyable, but this weekend, when I met most of the coolest characters on the block, the world I’ve been used to for these odd 31 years seemed to stop in its track. Of course, with a little wine, champage, and other spirits you might be able to find a coolness in any crowd. In either case, meeting my power neighborshas given me renewed hope in a even greater concept…a listserv!

Speaking of neighbors, the work environment, for what it’s worth, has been a fun time as well! The people in the office resemble Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the Fourth of July rolled into one absolute minute of how work is supposed to be. I’m confined to a space of “busy work” until most of my paperwork is cleared but for now, I’m enjoying the freedom and independence to be my own man since I’m sure once the last signature is crafted, I’ll be the busiest mo-fo on the block.

And finally, the days of walking around aimlessly has ended. In certain aspects of the day, I would lose track of what I was doing–even though most of the time it was supposed to be nothing–but in either case, I had to come up with a plan to keep track of the things that I was supposed to be doing vice what I was in fact doing.

So, I bought an organizer! Isn’t that so 1990’s?

Well. to be honest, I bought an organizer a while ago but I am now using it and it’s literally changed my complete way of thinking. So, what the heck? A blackberry is one thing, but having it in black and white staring at you, there is nothing you can do but doing the thing it’s asking you to do.

Like, getting a job.

So, on that note, I’m outta here for now.

M.C. Davis