You broke my will, oh what a thrill

Another post? Sure, why not. I don't have much to relate, however, so you're going to have to bear with me. I suppose you don't want to hear about my cool new running shoes, do you? Or the great deal I got on swordfish the other day at Market Basket? No, you'd rather hear about my daily struggles and the pain and despair that has finally, after years of my fighting it, devoured every last thing that was good in me. Well, let's see if I can accommodate you, leeches of the soul.

There's this girl at work who doesn't seem to like me and I can't figure out why. Why would anyone dislike me? Ok, there are multiple reasons, but she doesn't know about those; she barely knows me. She's the only one in the office who won't acknowledge me. Whenever I say hello, she doesn't respond. Early on, I thought I'd be closer to her than anyone else because on my second day I spent half of it going to various registries of deeds with her. Kind of like on the first episode of a new Real World season, when the producers pair up house mates and have them travel to their new digs together. They always seem to think that, because of their head start, they'll get along better with each other than they do with anyone else in the house. Doesn't seem to happen very much.

Anyway, I'm about sixty four percent sure Laurie doesn't like me and that's fine---I'm only thirty two percent interested in building a relationship with her---but I sure would like to know why. I know you're thinking that the obvious reason is because she has a pretty deep crush on me, like anyone would, male or female, who'd spent a day going to registries with me, but I'm pretty sure she doesn't. She's pregnant for one thing. And, you're going to think I'm bullshitting here, but I am dead serious--- the father of the child is Jim Rice's son. There's a pretty interesting story there, but I want to stay on point. Perhaps I should---and I'm not even sure I haven't---regale you with it in some later post, when I'm really fishing for ideas, but not now.

So, if it's not a deep crush, then what is it?Is she afraid of me, of my inner brilliance, of my pure heart? I think if I was as common as the rest of you, I'd be intimidated and yes, fearful, of me. I'm not too sure, though, if that's what it is. Maybe she overhead me telling anyone who would listen about the hand job she gave me in the car on the way to one of the registries. If that's the case, then she needs to lighten up.

I'm going to go listen to some Teitur, a songwriter from the Faros Islands, who sounds to me like a much less whiny Damien Rice. And he's a better songwriter. With each album he puts out, he becomes more and more eclectic. I love it. By the time he gets to his sixth one, I anticipate he'll sound like James Taylor doing Captain Beefheart by way of Rush. Stay tuned, bitches.

Once we had an easy ride and always felt the same, time was on our side and we had everything to gain

Friday night, Spira, Mara, and I went to see Jennifer Greer play at the Middle East. She played in the dining room, which was nice because me and my companions were effing hungry. I ordered spinach pie for my appetizer and, because it's one of my all time favorite foods, I should have ordered two or three helpings and made that my meal. But, in the interest of variety, I ordered the grilled salmon with couscous. Delicious, but next time I'm just going to stick with the spinach pie. It's in my top three, for crissakes! To designate it an appetizer is irresponsible and counterintuitive. Don't worry, spinach pie, I will learn from my mistake and grant you exalted status from now on.

Jennifer is the boyfriend and band mate of Spira's friend Andy, who I know as well. I'd never seen her play before and I thought they all played well. I was very attracted to her and tried not to make it obvious with Mara right next to me. Am I a pig? No, I am not. People don't stop being attractive once you enter into a relationship. Anyone who tells you different is a flat out liar. It's the decisions you make based on the attraction that can render you a pig. All the same, I had a few dreams that night where I cheated on Mara. They weren't very pleasant.

I abhor cheating, but I can understand how it happens. It's easy, when you have some distance from it, to say you'd never, ever cheat on your mate, and that people who do are sinners of the highest order. I bet a lot of people who have cheated on their mates have said the same thing. But, in the end, we are human beings, which means we are not infallible and are capable of all sorts of things we'd never thought we'd entertain. And, anyhow, there is such a thing as situational ethics.

So, why am I seemingly making an argument for cheating? Am I about to admit something startling? Sorry, but no. I don't plan on cheating on Mara, even though, as I stated above, I believe we're all capable of it. Having said that, it's still a choice, and I'd like to think, if presented with the opportunity, I'd choose not to engage in that illicit act. My rule of thumb is if I find myself thinking about doing it with a certain amount of frequency, it's probably time to end the relationship. Before I do something stupid.

As I was leaving Mara's yesterday, I told her I wanted to have some time to myself today. She didn't take it too well. She asked me if I thought we were spending too much time together and I replied that I did. We'd just spent portions of almost every day that week together and with other things I needed to attend to, I barely had any time to myself, which I need. It wasn't easy telling her I didn't want to see as much of her, but I had to do it. I really like her and seeing her sad hurts me. But....well, I'll finish that thought some other time.
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I watched a ton of Monster Quest on You tube this weekend. Specifically the Bigfoot related episodes. Good stuff. I also got to see Sasquatch: Legend Meets Science, a show I'd been dying to see for a long time. An all Bigfoot weekend.

Going to watch In Bruges tonight. I'll let you know how it was. Ok, I'm out.

Stormy weather, just can't get my poor self together

So I said I'd go into more detail about the show and I will, but not tonight. I've fallen behind in the things I need to do and won't have the time to go on and on about how a bunch of people got drunk and had a good time listening to the most magnetic, handsome, and dangerous performer. Yes, that performer is me, in case you were wondering. Anyway, may as well do this thing now because if I don't, I probably never will. And, quite frankly, there's not that much to sum up. I'll give it the ol' lightning round treatment all the same, though, so I can go off and be merry.

--Before he went on, Foley told me what an incredible vocalist his friend who was going to sing with him on a couple of numbers was. He had just returned from the south where he had performed in a countrified musical adaptation of Romeo and Juliet. Foley gave him the star treatment and I was excited to hear what all the fuss was about. When I did, I was underwhelmed. Heck of a nice guy and not a bad vocalist, per se, but not that great, either. Maybe I was expecting the next Josh Groban.

--Krissy, on the other hand, sang beautifully. Love her voice. We talked, and not for the first time, about playing some songs together. I think our voices would mesh well. I wonder if Josh Groban ever does duets.

-- The bartender at the Abbey was the worst I've ever seen. Not only did he abandon his post frequently---there was talk that he was snorting coke outside--- but he had to be told at least a couple of times during people's sets to shut his mouth. At any given moment, I could have walked around the bar and poured myself a tall one. Too bad I have a pure heart which prevents me from doing such things.

--Most of the people in attendance were friends, which was a great thing, but the only problem with that is it becomes a party and no one's really interested in paying attention to the music being played. I'd say about ten percent of the crowd were actually listening and the rest would only acknowledge the musician at the end of a song, when they were cued to applaud. Am I bitter about this? No. It's just something that happens. I had enough people paying attention to my playing to make me happy, and the important, essential thing, was the that anyone came out at all. A great group of people.

--When I completed my final song, Mara jumped up on the stage and gave me a big kiss. Nice! I was a little let down when the rest of the hot chicks in attendance didn't follow suit. Oh, well. I found out Spira dared Mara to do it. She also should have dared her to give me a hundred bucks. Hey, a brother's got to eat!

--Foley was drunk. Real drunk. Don't see him like that too often. Well, he is Irish, after all. Ouch!

--In the scummy rest room, I saw a xeroxed flier with a familiar face on it. Upon closer inspection, I saw that it was Patrick Moraz, the Swiss pianist who played keyboards on the under rated Yes album, Relayer. He only stuck around for that one record. Man, things must have gone south for that guy if he was playing The Abbey. I bet he wishes he was invited to play on one of Yes' reunion tours. I hope Josh Groban never sees his career plummet like that.

So that was pretty much it. I left out a couple of minor details, like the big time record producer who talked about signing me to his big time label and the knife fight between Luke Warm and Foley's wife, Tamsyn, that almost sent one of them to jail for murder. G'night, bitches!

And who would have thought that I owe it all to Tulsa

Had a great time last night at the show. There were a good amount of people there and most of them friends. Everyone had good sets and the mood was festive.

I'm beat and am going to end this post before it grows legs and takes up too much of my precious and important time. I'll follow up tomorrow with more details about the show and other stuff that's been going on, like the passing of the great George Carlin . I think I'm going to watch Grindhouse tonight if I can stay awake. If not, I'll do some reading and maybe watch the Pixies documentary or a segment of Planet Earth. I have my options and they all involve relaxing. So, with that, I'm out of here. I'll leave you with a nice little Tom Green bit.

A troubled cure for a troubled mind

Had a terrible dream last night. Truth be told, it wasn't really terrible for me, but for someone else. Well, I guess it was terrible for me, too, but I mostly had fun before the guilt set in. Ah, dreams can be complicated and Ido believe I made an oath a few posts back--- one that right after I made it, I couldn't keep--- not to drown you in the vagaries and boring details of my dreams. So, it's essential that I man-up and at least try to be true to my word. Bad timing, though, because this particular dream had a pretty good story arc and would have made a good Lifetime flick.
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Went to see Spira play at the Gulu Gulu in Salem on Friday night. The plan was for me, Luke Warm, and Craig to go down together. Mara had other plans, but they were abruptly canceled, so she made her way over to my place. While waiting for her to show up, I got a call from her asking me to meet her outside. Once there, I couldn't find her. What game is she up to, I asked myself. It was then that I saw her up the street a bit.

I went over to her and saw right away that she stood at the scene of a car accident. Her car was pulled up to the sidewalk and the right side of its front end was crumpled like a ball of foil. About fifteen feet behind her car was the car she hit. Its driver-side door was mangled and rested perpendicular to the car. And on the sidewalk, next to Mara, was the girl who was driving the car. Everyone was alright. What happened was Mara was driving by and the girl opened her door wide to get out of the car and SMASH! Happens all the time in the city.

The girl had never been in an accident before and was pretty shaken up. Didn't help matters that her car had been unregistered for almost a year. The cop was especially kind to her and didn't cite her, at least monetarily, for the offense. Something tells me that if that was me in that position, I wouldn't have gotten off so easily. Sometimes it helps being a frightened, good looking, young lady.

Mara managed to get her car in my driveway and there it remains until she can get it assessed and then towed. We almost didn't go to Salem. Luke Warm was itching to get going---it was already about ten minutes past the time we intended to leave---and Mara thought she was going to be tied up a bit longer with the traffic cop. She told me to go with the guys and she'd just hang out in the house until we returned. That didn't sit well with me; if I were to have done as she suggested, I would have felt pretty lousy about it. So, I told her I'd stay, but I wasn't too thrilled at the prospect. I was looking forward to going out, most especially because I needed to hang out with some friends. And frankly, I needed some time away from Mara. We don't see each other every day, but I confess to feeling a little crowded sometimes. So, a night alone with Mara and away from my friends wasn't quite what the doctor ordered, but I was prepared to do it, because, let's face it, it would have been the right thing to do. The poor woman had just been in a car accident!

Turns out, she finished with the cop in time to go to Salem with the boys. It was great seeing Spira play. The band she plays with, Machine 475, I didn't really like when I first heard them, but have since witnessed a lot of growth and become impressed with their music. The night wasn't all good. Our group had splintered off into two camps: Mara and me and Craig and Luke Warm. Part of the reason for that was because of lack of seating. The other, and more substantial, part was due to something else entirely. I made a decision that night that wasn't easy to make. We'll see if it sticks, and if it does, what the ramifications will be.
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I'm off to rehearse a little for this show tomorrow night. Hope perhaps to see some of you there. Don't expect to, though.

If drinking don't kill me, her memory will

I saw Bibi Anderson (see my post about the career workshop) at Shaws today. I got in line behind her at checkout and almost embarrassed myself the way I gawked at her when I realized who she was. Surely this, in the grand design, must have meaning, I thought. What was I meant to do, though? Strike up a conversation? "Hey, remember me from the workshop? Yeah, I was the guy blanketing you with stares for pretty much the entire time. Has anyone ever told you that you look like a cross between Helen Mirren and Bibi Anderson? Not fifty-fifty, though. I'd say thirty percent Helen Mirren and seventy percent Bibi Anderson. So, anyway, since I know you so well, want to start a life together?"

What actually happened was what you'd expect: nothing. She paid for her groceries and left. I noticed she was wearing the same black frilly dress. Why not? It looked good on her. I discovered, seeing her out in public, that she was a bit more ordinary looking than I originally thought. I guess context accounts for something. Still a looker, though.

I watched Super High Me with Craig and Rich last night. Doug Benson is a very funny man. He's a natural, effortless comic and watching him get high constantly for a month was hilarious. If you like to laugh, which I think at least a few of you do, I suggest you see this film. As far as I'm concerned, ninety percent of comedic entertainment is rubbish, so when I see catch something genuinely funny, like Super High Me, I hold on to it.

Ok, I need to start getting ready for this show on Monday. I'm looking forward to it. I just hope I can piece together a worthy set.

I've never felt magic as crazy as this

When it became apparent in the third quarter of last night's game that the Celtics were going to be champions, I thought about, and not for the first time this season, how dramatically different things were last season. If you had told me then the Celtics would win it all this year, I'd have chalked the prediction up to wishful thinking. Even when it appeared likely we'd draft either Greg Oden or Kevin Durant, two of the highest touted prospects in recent memory, I'd still have thought there'd be no chance the C's could do what I watched them do on the living room TV last night.

Luke Warm and I watched the Celtics play a lot of bad basketball last year. The only highlight I can remember is when Gerald Green won the slam dunk contest at the All Star game. Sure, there were things to enjoy about the season: with so many young kids on the team, there was a kind of parental joy in watching them develop, and even though we weren't awarded the opportunity to draft either Oden or Durant, it was fun for a while there envisioning either one of them in a Celtics uniform.

Missing out on the top picks in the draft was the final nail in the coffin of a horrible season. It portended more sub-par basketball for years to come. And then everything changed with the arrival of Kevin Garnett.

I'm tired and can't maintain much focus. There's more I'd like to say about how gratifying and surreal it was watching my team go all the way this year, but I fear I won't be able to convey my feelings in any tangible way. I'm kind of like KG was last night after the game when all he could was issue primal scream after joyous primal scream. Apart from the screaming, which I have thus far not engaged in, I share his inability to articulate how much it all meant to him. It'll come out incrementally in future posts, I'm sure, but now, now I just want to put my earbuds on and go for a walk.

She looked so fucking good, so sexy and so frail, something's got the bite on me, I'm going straight to hell

So I made it through the career workshop today relatively unscathed. It went more or less as I expected it would: pretty boring but occasionally insightful. I'm presenting below a taste of what I experienced using the artistic device that has grown cliche and tired on television, but in print still has some relevancy: The Interior Monologue. So, without further adieu....


Ok, I'm only like two minutes late and they're already in full swing. Last time I showed up ten minutes late and we still had to wait for stragglers before the the class commenced. This group must have a high population of braniacs. That sucks, because that lot always asks a ton of questions and, consequently, the length of the class extends significantly. I'll be so cross if they fuck this up for me. Since when did I start using the word "cross"? Kind of like it. Let's stick with it for a while. Could be a keeper.

The instructor....Holy shit! This guy looks exactly like Hal Holbrook! Not just a little: exactly. The only conclusion I can make is that it IS Hal Holbrook. I'm starting to get excited; better calm down and let it sink in that Holbrook has entered the private sector. Ok, I feel better. Hal Holbrook---who would have guessed it?


There are some fine looking women here. That table by the window has the two best looking ones sitting at it. The blond one is the type that jocks with baseball caps and sandals would dig. I think she'd just annoy me. The brunette next to her is average in the conventional sense, but I think she's much more attractive than blondie. Long brown hair in a pony tail. She looks like she could be Tobey Macguire's sister. I'll have to ask Hal Holbrook if he's ever seen Toby's family out and about in Hollywood. Maybe she is Toby's sister. Well, we already have one celebrity here, so why not a celebrity's sister?

The blond woman I was looking past in order to check out the hottie table by the window has caught my attention. She is tall and blonde, with strong features. She's probably Norwegian. Man, I can't believe how pretty she is. She probably thinks her nose is too broad at its tip, but I think without it, she'd be one step closer to being as ordinary looking as the blond at the hottie table. She's wearing a frilly, simple black dress and sandals. She appears to be pregnant, but has probably only recently started showing. She looks a little like Helen Mirren, but more like Bibi Anderson.
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"And you should take some time to exercise. That is important. Exercise is key. You don't want to fall into the routine of the couch potato, something that is all too easy to do when you're unemployed."

Hal is talking a lot about exercising. I'm only half......okay, one quarter listening to his presentation, but I've snapped to attention every time I've heard the word "exercise" because it seems a little odd that he would emphasize it so much. I agree with him---exercise is pivotal---but if I wanted to know more about exercising I'd go to the Y.

Bibi Anderson is so beautiful. I can barely stop looking at her. Long neck. Her hair is short, which is flattering, because her neck is so pronounced. And delicate. Like a swan.......Damn! Snap out of it! I'm becoming unglued in such an un-sexy and corny way. Let's focus on Hal.

"When I was on Designing Women back in the eighties...." What the..... Did he just say what I thought he said? Or was I drifting off to sleep? Let's listen more carefully, henceforth.

"Now, we have other resources available all over the greater Boston area. You can take advantage...."

Bibi is too good for me. If I was single, I wouldn't stand a chance with her. Not that I believe she's "better" than me in any way that's important, but she's definitely in a higher bracket. She's a thoroughbred, alright. Brought up with the best of everything, I bet. What would she want with a pauper like me? Why am I even thinking of this? And why do I presuppose to know everything about this woman when I haven't even met her? I'm being the guy I would want to head-butt in the jaw if I met him at a party. And it's not helping matters that I'm too busy gawking at these women when I should be paying at least a little attention to Hal..

"And if you look at page three in the booklet, I'll go over something that will really help you in the future."

I wonder if those guys on the roof across the street are snipers. And as a part B to that thought, I wonder if they're going to start shooting inside this room. Unlikely. They're exposing themselves way too much to be snipers. Of course, they're probably trying to look inconspicuous. Maybe I should get under the table.

I've spotted the braniacs. There are at least five of them; a pretty high number. The two sitting at the table in the front row are serious offenders. They're taking notes feverishly, but I can't figure out why because Hal is talking at a slow clip. Far be it for me to figure out nerds. Let's see if those snipers are locked and loaded.

Damn, the woman at the braniac table looks like Bruce Bowen. That's a shame.
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I wonder why Rich left those ceiling tiles on the floor after they nearly fell on him while he was sitting on the couch. I'm sure he was pissed about the experience, but other than leaving the tiles in place in an effort to "preserve the crime scene", as it were, the only reason I can think of for him doing that was because he was plain lazy. Don't know, don't really care. Purely on principal, I am not picking them up off the floor. Especially in light of the fact that I'll most likely be the one calling Marie about this. The closest I see Rich taking an interest in matters is him declaring that "somebody should call Marie about this". Seeing how Craig's done his fair share of Marie-calling, I'm going to take this one on my shoulders. Hope I can get her off the phone in under twenty minutes. Dubious, that.

I can't detect one blemish on Bibi. She has such interesting features. I wonder what her voice sounds like. She looks tired. Her movements remind me of Mara's roommate's turtle: slow, with a careful regard for everything her eyes touch. Is she ever really animated, or is this the way she always is? Of course she gets animated! She's bored and tired. Like you. Pay attention to Hal. It's not polite to tune out when someone's speaking.

"And you want to make sure you're confident in yourself. Interviewers respond well to confidence. Think of moments in the past when you've been confident in yourself. Now, take those moments...."

That guy who looks like William Hung is drifting off to sleep. His head keeps jerking forward.


He's struggling in vain to stay awake, but Hal's voice has taken on the qualities of a soft, gentle lullaby, and with the accompanying silence, it's almost impossible not to fall asleep. If I wasn't so intrigued with Bibi, et al, I'd be fast asleep right now. Man, Bibi looks like she's going to fall asleep, too. Not the braniacs, though. They're hauling ass with the note-taking. What the fuck are they writing? I'll have to ask Bruce Bowen after class. Nah, I want to get the hell out of here.

Hal is talking about exercising again and I welcome it. I need to go for a run today and I need all the motivation I can get. I may not have heard ninety percent of what you've said today, Hal, but I will be the living embodiment, at least for an hour when I'm out running, of your exercise doctrine. Consider your lecture a success!

Ok, class is over. Thank god! Of course, I've got to fill out this crummy survey before I get to leave. Everyone else is leaving. They were the smart ones: they filled out their surveys while Hal was speaking. There goes Bibi. I guess I'll never get to hear what her voice sounds like.

Done with the survey. Gave you excellent marks all across the board, Hal. Now, go back to Hollywood and get yourself a part in a movie or tv show, or some shit.

Ooh wee, ride me high, tomorrow's the day my bride's gonna come

I was just looking at a letter I received from the Unemployment Agency to see what time on Friday I was scheduled to attend the career counseling counseling seminar they make you attend as a condition of receiving benefits. I discovered that I had to take a class by Friday and not necessarily on Friday. And, I read, I had to schedule a time as soon as possible because the classes fill up quickly. I knew all this--I had to attend a seminar a couple of years ago-- but somehow failed to remember those pertinent details.

I called to sign up and discovered that the only class available this week is tomorrow morning at ten. Fuck! I had to book it, otherwise I'd be in danger of forfeiting my benefits. Now, I'll have to miss some work tomorrow. I'm not thrilled about this new development, but I'm glad I called when I did.
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Mara and I went to Atwoods, a nice, upscale little bar in Cambridge, on Saturday night to see her friend Alistair play. The place was near empty when we got there, which was a little odd considering it was a Saturday night. It was too bad, because Alistair was playing with some serious musicians, one of which was a guitar player in Lori Mckenna's band.

At one point, between songs, a girl walked up to the stage and asked Alistair if he wouldn't mind playing some hip-hop for her and her friends. It was a bizarre request to make. A quartet of guys in their late thirties playing mandolin, acoustic guitar, upright bass, and banjo, pulling off anything close to hip-hop would have been a miracle of the highest order. I tried imagining what it would have sounded like, them whipping out a few Jay Z joints and, as fertile as my imagination is, I just couldn't do it. At first, I thought this girl must have been drunk, but she looked quite sober. I heard she once went to a Celtics game and asked the players if they wouldn't mind making it a baseball game instead.
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I watched Margot At the Wedding last night. Really good film. It was by Noah Baumbach, the guy who wrote and directed The Squid and The Whale. He has such a way with dialog and the acting was top notch. After I'm done with this, I'm going to finish watching Persona, which, so far, is deep and engrossing. Just like me.

If she mourns too long, I'll know something's wrong, and I will leave her be

You must be so incredibly excited to see another post from me so soon after the last one. Well, I'm feeling writer-ish (Don't even bother looking it up, it's a word. I'm being totally honest-ish), which means you're in for something special. And what could that something special be? You're right---an only slightly more creative account of my particularly uneventful and unsexy day- to- day life. But don't fret, this entry may feature dragons and a possible scandalous love triangle involving lifelong friends and a seductress with a hidden agenda. Yeah, maybe you might want to actually do some reading this time instead of all that skimming you usually do. It's okay that you skim; I do it myself when I read your writing.

I just spent some time deleting some space-wasting programs from my computer with the hope that, having done so, the movies I watch on Netflix' Instant Play feature won't pause every ten seconds. Hopefully, it'll work. For your sake, it better. Yeah, I'm addressing you, punk. (Update: My efforts were not rewarded. Still having problems)

I should be getting Persona in the mail today, and if I do, I'll probably watch it this afternoon. That is, if I don't stop by my parents house. Maybe I could watch it with my parents. Singing "Darling Nicky" in three part harmony would be a more likely scenario (don't laugh--we've been tossing the idea around), but you never know.

I'm done with this. Sorry no dragons and love triangles. Maybe next time, but probably not. I have the feeling I just wasted your time, but I don't feel so lousy about it because I have another feeling that if I didn't do it for you, you'd do it just fine on your own.

Not that you care, and not that it bears mentioning , but I'm about to go take a shower while listening to Vashti Bunyan coo gently from my i-pod. And just so you don't start worrying about my mental health, which generally warrants worrying after, I'll have the i-pod connected to speakers and won't be wearing earbuds in the shower (So you know, I get paid a nickel for every "W"I type. I earned a cool thirty cents in that last sentence.)

Watch out where the huskies go, and don't you eat that yellow snow

Damn! What a game last night. Well, at least the second half. Mara, Rich, and I were on our way back from seeing Iron Man and I turned on the radio to check the score. The announcers kept saying the crowd was quiet from all the drama. What drama, though? Were they quiet from cheering so much for their team as they bulldozed the Celtics, or were they quiet because their team was being bulldozed by the Celtics. Much to my displeasure, I soon found out it was the former scenario. The Lakers were schooling the Celtics. They were up by twenty four points. It was nearing the end of the first half. Well, at least I saw a good movie, I thought.

Back at the house, Craig had the game on. In my heart, I knew a comeback was unlikely, even though the Lakers had almost done it to the Celtics when they were down by the same deficit in game two. The problem for the Celtics was they lacked the offensive prowess of the Lakers. It didn't look good.

Mara went home and Craig, Rich, and I went to our respective rooms. I had the game on mute in my room while I sat at my computer. I didn't bother looking over at the screen for a while because I suspected they might be losing in an unprecedented way, like down by fifty points or worse. So, when I finally summoned the nerve to check the score, my jaw dropped. They were only down by two points!

Well, you know the rest, so I won't bother continuing with my run down, short of saying Kreg, Rich, and I resumed our posts in the living room and cheered heartily as the Celtics did the unthinkable and defeated the Lakers and that I wish Luke Warm was there watching it with us. It still hasn't sunk in that the Celtics, the shitty-ass team that sucked so bad last year, but one I loved anyway, is on the verge of WINNING THE CHAMPIONSHIP (like how I used the caps for emphasis? That way you really get where I'm coming from. Only the best for you, dear readers.) Sunday could be the last game of the year, but I kind of hope they lose so they can come back to Boston and win it all there.
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Mark your calendars, music fans. I'll be playing at The Abbey in Cambridge on June 23. It's a Monday night, which means the only people I expect to show up will be the ones who live within five miles of the place. Mondays can be rough. It should be a fun show all the same. My friends Leesa, Foley, and Krissy, will each be playing a set. Really, you should come; I wrote a touching song about you that you won't want to miss.
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I was going to watch Persona tonight, an Ingmar Bergman film I've been meaning to watch for years, but Netflix dragged their asses and didn't ship it out to me quickly enough. If I can, I'll finish watching Yankee Doodle Dandy, a great film starring James Cagney. I never knew what a great song and dance man he was.

There are a handful of movies I want to see in the theater, which is a rare thing for me. Including Iron Man, which I just saw, I want to go see the new Indiana Jones flick, Batman, The Incredible Hulk, the new Shamalan film (can't remember the title), and The Fall, a movie by Tarsim that's supposed to a visual mindfuck. Will I see them all? Stay tuned, bitches.
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Enough out of me. I'm going to stop by Mara's for a bit. It's Father's Day this weekend, so I suppose I should do something for dear ol' dad. I won't see him on Sunday, though, because he and my mother are going out to my sister's in Ashburnham, which, if you've never heard of it, is waaayyyyy the fuck out there. Or at least waaaayyyy the fuck out there from where I am. And that means I'll be staying put. Have you seen the gas prices? Fuck that, son! I love my family, but not that much

She said a good day ain't got no rain, she said a bad day is when I lie in bed and think of things that might have been

Mara came home yesterday and I met her at the Diesel Cafe in Davis. I had just taken a long run and, after coming home and showering quickly, I was pretty hungry. And so was she. We decided to check out the new sushi place in Davis, but when we got there we saw that they were closed. From there, we went looking for a seafood place Mara had gone to a few years ago. We couldn't find it. I was starting to get irritable from lack of food and a ton of walking. Finally, we happened upon it, but it too was closed.

We passed by a little Italian place called Al Fresca and decided we'd go there if Redbones, our next choice, was too packed. It was, so we made the walk back to Al Fresca and ate there. A good place, but they had run out of beer. I hardly ever drink, but when I go out to eat, and especially when it's hot outside, I like to have a beer. Not a major disappointment, but when I heard the news, my already irritable mood became a little more irritable. Once the food came, though, I felt a lot better.

By the time we came back to my place it was almost ten o'clock. Mara went through all of her work-related emails and I worked on some songs. Then we went to bed. I stayed awake and finished The Last Argument of Kings, the final installment in Joe Abercrombie's trilogy. It kept me up until one. I finally drifted off to sleep around two--- my mind was thick with the book's conclusion---and managed to get a few hours of sleep before my air conditioner started making crackling, fire place-like sounds and emitting warm air. It seems like every time Mara stays over, I don't get enough sleep. I should probably dump her.

She's been talking about taking me home to Brooklyn to meet her family and I'm a little trepidatious (by the way, there is a debate over whether that is an actual word. Check it out, if you don't believe me) over the prospect, mostly because it seems as though I'll be walking into a Meet The Parents type situation. And there are other concerns I'll not go into quite yet. It probably wouldn't be that bad, it's just not something I'm looking forward to.

Ok, off to get ready for the Celtics game. The C's almost pulled off the biggest choke in NBA history the other night when they let the Lakers come back from a twenty four point deficit. I hope they won't treat them so lightly this time around. I predict a Lakers victory tonight, mostly because the refs will officiate the game in favor of the home team. We'll see.

If I ventured in the slipstream, between the viaducts of your dream

Luke Warm and I took lunch took together at work today and because I wasn't terribly hungry, I ordered some onion rings. Biggest mistake I've made in the last eleven months. As far as onion rings go, they tasted alright, but I've been suffering in the bowels of my ship for the last several hours because of them. I've had the plaster-in-the-belly feeling and a case of the Mobil Jumps (After highschool, I worked at a restaurant with this crazy fuck chef I used to call The Trolley for some reason. He used to regale us tales of when he was a truck driver. He used to talk about the dreaded Mobil Jumps like war veterans talk about combat. He told us he used to get the shits a lot because of his crappy diet and he'd "jump" from Mobil gas station to Mobil gas station to lighten his load, as it were. Hence, the Mobil Jumps.)

So what did I think would happen as a result of huffing down a plate of greasy, crunchy onion rings? A feeling of wellness for the rest of the day? A burst of sustained energy? Certainly not either of those things, but I did conveniently forget that putting a bunch of deep-fried anything into your system is an act of disrespect to your body, mind, and spirit. Oh, well, what can I say? It sounded like a good idea at the time. Anyway, the long and the short of it is, I'll not be eating onion rings or anything that has been submerged in a fryolator.
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Tonight, I'm going to spend some quality time with someone who I really get along with and respect: me. That's right, I'm going to read, watch a movie, work on songs---whatever I feel like doing. And I'm going to stay up late and wake up when I feel like tomorrow morning. I used to have more nights like this than I'd care to recount, but now they're in short supply. It's going to be fun, I tell you.
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When I came home from work today, I saw a Whole Foods bag hanging from the knob of my back door. Upon closer inspection,I saw that it had my name on it. Suspecting a possible prank or worse, I opened the bag carefully and peered inside . The contents revealed a tuppeware container with banana bread in it. Nice! The other day, I had mentioned to Mara a craving for banana bread that I had. I told her it had been a long time since I had any and felt it was due time that I re-introduced the dessert to my gullet. So what did she do? Well, you know what she did, because you put two and two together, but in case you're not very bright, I'll spell it out for you: She baked me some banana bread and brought it over to my house while I was at work. My girlfriend is a sweet one, she is.
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Here are two words for you that I should have began this post with: The Truth! Yes, Paul Pierce of the Celtics is The Truth and Shaq knew what he was talking about when he gave him that name. Unless you're a complete asshole loser, you watched the riveting Celtics game last night. The Truth was in fine form, coming back to the court and nailing threes like they were going out of style only ten minutes after suffering a knee injury and being carried off the court by his teammates. And KG brought the pain all night. It was a tight game and I suspect it's going to be a great series.

She said leave it to me, everything will be all right

I emerged from the dentist with clean teeth and a lot of work that needs to be done. I won't go into what that entails, but suffice it to say I'll have to hire a cop to work detail, because there'll be some extensive road work going on. Actually, it won't be that bad, just mostly in the wallet. Ah, who needs money, anyway? I do, damnit! I do.

Just finished watching The General, one of Buster Keaton's bigger budget films, and it was quite impressive. I was going to watch another of his films, but I got a hankering to watch something with W.C. Fields. Last night, Mara and I watched Manhattan before bed and when Muriel Hemingway's character mentions watching a W.C. Fields movie, I thought, "Ah, yes, I see myself rocking the Fields in my immediate future." So, will I watch one tonight? Hell, no, I'm going to watch The Son, bitches. And forget tomorrow night----KG and company will be facing off against The Lakers.

Mara's going home to New York this weekend and tomorrow night will be the last time I'll get to see her before she leaves. I was thinking of ways to convince her to watch the game with me without seeming like a bad boyfriend, and resolved that I'd miss the game if need be. However, I'd make sure that it'd be the only game I'd miss. I mean, c'mon, it's the Celtics vs. the Lakers, for crissakes! Mara made it easy for me and suggested we make some dinner and watch the game together when she called earlier. A good plan, me thinks.

Ok, I'm done with you. Go watch JAG, or whatever it is you do when you're not completely engaged in my writing.

K Fucking G!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yeah, it's a commercial, but it gives me the chills every time I see it. KG is is almost solely responsible for the Celtics being in the finals. He'd be better suited combating Achilles or Hercules, but alas, he's stuck with us puny humans. I don't know what's going to happen, but I'm pretty sure he's going to cause some major damage to the Lakers. That is, if his head doesn't explode from being so amped up. Anyway, watch this commercial when you wake up every morning and you'll never have to drink another cup of coffee again.

I was under the calvary cross

Kind of tired right now, even though it's early afternoon. I didn't sleep very well last night. I had a weird bout of Restless Leg Syndrome (Heard of it before? It's a real thing, as weird as it sounds) that hit me around dawn and it was nigh impossible falling asleep for an extended period of time. It was also really warm in Mara's bed, which, for me, isn't conducive to sleeping comfortably. All of that notwithstanding, after talking for about a half hour about a wide variety of engrossing and highbrow topics, we fell asleep for a few more hours. Then we had French toast and fruit. So, yes, I'm kind of tired and I see a nap in my near to immediate future.
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Played up in Portsmouth at the Blue Mermaid last night. Shane was kind enough to invite me up---his band, NSI, was filling in for another band that canceled at the last minute---and I'm glad I accepted, if only because I got to see a bunch of friends I don't always get to see.

Spira, Mara, Kreg, and I drove up together and, for whatever reason, Spira spent much of the ride being critical of me. I tried to hold my tongue because a) I needed to focus on driving and b) I didn't want to be all heated before playing a set. For that reason alone, I quietly resented her for picking that particular time to subject me to a roast. In her defense, she was suffering through a headache and probably would have rather stayed in for the night. Still, though, what the fuck? Anyhow, things went well enough at the Mermaid and Spira was as supportive as she was able to be.
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A check from Unemployment arrived yesterday, and when I saw it, I let out a sigh of relief. It was dubious there for a while whether I'd be eligible to collect. Every little bit helps.
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I took Mara out to dinner Friday night for her birthday. We went to Dali, one of our favorite restaurants in the area. The food is so good! We ordered an assortment of Tapas and feasted like royalty. And it wasn't as pricey as I expected it would be. It was a good night.

Later, back at my house, I put the Celtics game on while lying in bed with Mara. She had just zonked out and slept through their victory. I was surprised she was able to , because I expressed my enthusiasm rather vocally. Celtics vs. Lakers, bitches! It's going to be a great finals. Can't wait.

Before my nap, I'm going to watch the rest of Beowulf. I watched about half of it the other day. What I saw impressed me more than I thought it would. Hope I can say the same about the rest.