Little Bill

Sad reminders of what seems years ago, warm southern sunshine through station wagon windows

Had some tires put on my car yesterday ( I needed them badly) and afterward my dad and I went out for lunch. We went to the China Buffet in Lowell, an establishment that caters to professional eaters, as evidenced by the high ratio of, for lack of a better word, fatties. I knew going in that the words small and portion would not be conjoined during this meal and consequently I would be going on a hard run when I got home.

I did ok, as far as how much I ate, but still, at a place like that, gluttony reigns supreme and you must bow before it when you enter its home. So, in other words, by China Buffet standards, I didn't eat that much, but by everyone else's, I didn't do my body any favors.

As we ate, my dad told me about my Uncle Stan. I reported here a few posts back that his health was failing rapidly but the cause was uncertain. Well, it turns out he has Lou Gerhig's disease, which, after battling cancer, is a devastating blow. They gave him one to five years, but for his sake, because I know this is a brutally painful and incurable disease, I hope he passes without suffering too much. A horrible bit of news.
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Watched The Fall the other night and it was one of the best films I've seen in a long time. It was made over the course of four years and shot in eighteen different countries. A gorgeous, inventive film that features some of the most effortless acting I've ever seen in a little girl, or anyone else for that matter. I won't go into a plot description, but if you needed to be reminded of the power of cinema, watch this film.
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Fucking lyrics! If I could come up with them as quickly as I do with music, I'd be wading in a sea of songs. Alas, writing lyrics takes a bit more time, and considering I enjoy writing in general and consider myself fairly adept at it, it's kind of ironic that I often have trouble with them. Well, there's nothing for it but to do it and cease bitching. I should be encouraged by the fact that I usually end up feeling satisfied with the finished product.
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Ok, I'm off to greener pastures. Ciao, lobos de la noche,

I'm blowing back my trouble to the east, while we sit together sad, like our fathers used to be

Traded in some dvds for some cds at Newbury Comics yesterday. I was looking to pick up a couple of Everly Brothers albums I was having difficulty locating practically everywhere else, and a particular Merle Haggard album. I was also looking to get an old Kraftwerk cd, too. I struck out on all counts. I did, however score on other fronts: I picked up a Fleet Foxes Ep, an old radio broadcast by the Stanley Brothers, The Gun Club's first record, one by Lightnin' Hopkins, and a different Merle Haggard cd than the one I was looking for. All under thirty bucks. Most of the cds were ridiculously cheap and with my trade-ins, I actually got some money back.

Managed to squeeze in a run yesterday, though the rain made an appearance midway through, making the whole affair soggier. It was a good run; the high energy of the Gun Club injected a spring in my step and the rain wasn't entirely unwelcome; it took away some of the uncomfortable mugginess that had been managing to sap me of some of my motivation.

Today's a good day to bunker down and immerse myself in a book. I just picked up Deepak Chopra's Life After Death: The Burden Of Proof, a book I heard about from reading the transcript of a debate between Chopra and Michael Shermer from Skeptic magazine concerning the veracity of the claims Chopra makes in the book. Shermer, who I recall is an atheist or at least an agnostic, made some intriguing points, but Chopra made such an informed, intelligent, and powerfully written rebuttal that I determined I'd pick up his book the next time I was near a book store. I've read a couple of his books in the past and enjoyed them, so I'm fairly confident I'll be pleased with this one. I think I need a book like this right now.

I've had the house to myself for most of this weekend, which hardly ever occurs. Craig's off at the Baseball Hall of Fame and Rich, in a rare turn of events, has been out and about. It's not that different, actually, them being gone --- I didn't all of a sudden take off my clothes and scurry around the house yelping about freedom, but sometimes it does feel nice having te place to yourself.

To return to the subject of reading, I've noticed over the last year or so that my attention span while reading has shrunk considerably . Something I suspected, but didn't pursue, was the notion that the way we navigate the internet has changed the way we approach books. I just came across this article ---- http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200807/google --- that illustrates pretty convincingly that there may be some truth to the notion. Check it out, especially if you've had the same experience that I've had.

Tiny Tim, the tight rope walker, tried to steal the drag queen's daughter

I was going to brave the elements and go for a run, but in the end decided it wouldn't be worth it. I don't like deviating from my routine, mostly because if I do so it's more difficult to get back on track, but going for a run in the pouring rain through the streets of Somerville at peak traffic borders on stupidity. And tomorrow doesn't look to be any better, so I'll have to make the best of this forced inactivity. Maybe I'll do some yoga, instead.

Glad we didn't elect to go camping this weekend. Mike, Luke Warm, and I have been planning a trip to Vermont and, if weather permits, we'll be going soon. I've always wanted to go in the fall, especially to the place we usually go, but it never happened. Until now. It'll probably be a little chilly at night, but that's what blankets are for. I can't wait. Come join us --- the more the merrier!
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Before I left work today, Jeff asked me to stick around for a few minutes so that we could talk. Even though I've been busier there of late, performing different aspects of the job, I wondered if they were going to let me go anyway. Well, now's the time to do it, at the end of the work week, I thought. Another part of me, however, wondered if, rather than being laid off, I'd be offered more hours and a different position. Laurie, the only person there who seemed to dislike me, didn't come to work all week and, according to Deb, my source of gossip, she wasn't going to be coming back. That meant someone would need to do her job, and that someone, I figured, could be me.

So when I sat with Marcy and Jeff in his office, I wasn't sure which way the meeting would go. As it happened, Jeff offered me more hours and a different position. I would be doing more administrative work ---invoicing, emailing clients, scanning documents, etc. --- and would only be doing document research, the work I'd been doing, only if we were really behind.

I accepted the new position and increased hours gladly. Though I was efficient at it, doc. research was starting to be kind of a drag, especially lately, when there wasn't much of it to do. I like being busy, and the work I've gradually switched to over the last couple of weeks is constant.

I left work pleased at the new development. I'd been concerned about the job, whether it would stay part much longer or whether, because of lack of work, I'd be laid off. And, with the knowledge that my unemployment checks won't be forthcoming for too much longer, I realized I would need to get a new job if I couldn't get more hours at this one. I'm breathing a little easier now.
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Okay, I'm off to Mara's. We're going to get some dinner and catch up. I haven't seen her in a while. Ciao!

Look at the sky, look at the river, isn't it good?

Not a bad day, though my wallet is certainly lighter after paying for some repairs to my car. I was busy at work and loved it. When things were ultra slow, the day dragged and it was a chore trying to look busy. Today, I had things to do right up until I left.

Deb's having a jewelry party at her house tonight, and most of the women I work with will be in attendance. She told me she didn't invite me because this was to be a more "girlie affair" than a regular get together. I told her not to worry, but that I may end up crashing the thing. I actually wouldn't mind seeing my coworkers outside of work. I just found out that Ellen, the spitfire suburban Republican, can drink like a sailor on shore leave and, according to Deb, most likely smokes a little ganja. Man, maybe I should crash the get together --- I may be missing out on some shenanigans.
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My Uncle Stan is in rough shape according to my mother. Ever since I can remember, he's always had a cigarette going. Well, he's paid the piper over the last year or two by having a lung removed and losing most of his ability to function. He's in the hospital now as they try to figure out why his health is deteriorating so rapidly. My mother suspects a brain tumor; whatever it is, it doesn't look like something he'll easily bounce back from. I wish him well.

My grandmother is in the hospital, too. Her stay, however, will be brief, and she should be coming home tomorrow. She went because she sometimes gets a flutter in her heart and it scares her. She's doing well, though, and even though she's twenty years older than him, she's a lot more hale than Stan.
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It's a rare occasion when I'll turn on the TV these days. Well, I do use it quite a bit, but only to watch dvds. I tried watching some the other day, and spent most of the ten minutes I had it on flipping the channels trying to find something good. I think it's safe to say that almost every thing on TV is shit. There's a massive amount of "so called" reality programming, that from what I can garner, really, really, really, plays to the lowest common denominator. Fortunately, when I had it on the other day, I caught a WKRP marathon in progress. That balanced things out a bit.

And there's this fucking Jon and Kate Plus Eight show that, for whatever reason, is on whenever I chance to watch a little TV. What pisses me off about it is that it sucks me in. These people annoy me so much, but I find myself devoting an alarming amount of time to it when I see that it's on. I guess I'll just have to buy the dvds; I don't know what else to do. Damn you, Jon and Kate Plus Eight!

And the grass won't pay no mind

What a day. When I got in my car after work, it wouldn't start. I was hoping all I needed was a jump, but when I saw the puddle of engine coolant under my car, I knew it wouldn't be that simple. I called Triple A and braced myself for a long wait.

I went back into the office and asked Jeff if he'd ever gone to garage a little up the block from us and if so, were they reputable. He said everyone in the office had gotten their cars fixed there at one point or another, but mostly because of the location. He then said "C'mon", and we walked over to the garage. He called over the owner(?) and explained my situation to him, adding that I'm an employee of his and should be treated well.

The guy, George was his name, eagerly accompanied me to my car to assess the situation. I was duly impressed by the help I was getting so far. My good fortune remained intact when Triple-A arrived just as we got to my car. It had only been about ten or twelve minutes since I'd called them. The guy got out of his truck, attached his jumper cables to my battery, and it started immediately. He was only there about four minutes.

George asked me to drive the car over to his garage so he could check the battery and the source of the leak. When I arrived, he rapidly put the car on a lift and had one of his guys take a look at it. It only took a few minutes for the mechanic to give his diagnosis: I needed a new battery---the one I had was shit --- and I needed my engine coolant changed because mine was a thick, cruddy mess.

They went to work on the car while I returned a call to Mara. I spoke with her for about twenty minutes and when I got off the phone, it looked like my car was all set. I paid George over two hundred smackers and, as I made my way to my car, asked him if they'd fixed the leak.

"No, there was no leak. We just added new coolant", he said.

I walked over to my car and took a look beneath it. There was a steady drip of coolant --- not an encouraging sign. "That looks like a leak", I said.

"Probably just over-fill. I wanted to get you out of here quick so I didn't clean up the way I usually do", he said.

"I don't know", I said. "I mean, we saw that it had been leaking earlier, so it would stand to reason that that's what it's doing now."

"Do me a favor. Take the car around the block and come back. That should get all the over-fill to dry."

I did what he suggested and wondered why a rag wouldn't do the same trick. It was approaching five o'clock and all I wanted to do was go home. When I returned to the garage, there was still a noticeable leak, so, upon George's urging, I went for another spin around the block. When I got back, same results.

They put the car on the lift for another look and after another thirty minutes, the mechanic determined that coolant was leaking from the reservoir. Really? I would never have guessed!

I'm leaving the car with George when I get to work tomorrow so they can replace the reservoir. I figure by the end of the day, I'll have dropped between three and four hundred bills. And good timing, too, since it's nearing the end of the month and I have an unusually large amount of money I need to pay for bills.

Kind of sucks, but man, this situation could have been a lot shittier. With that in mind, I'm not too devastated over what happened and will not be taking my life this night, which means you'll have to share space with me on this planet for a while longer yet.

Baby, I want to walk you home, there's a shadow in the basement and I'm scared to sleep alone

Recorded some more vocals tonight. I think they're keepers, but it's always good to give several listens before making a final judgment. For me, several usually ends up being in the double digits, and that's because my opinion of what is good and what is not so good varies from listen to listen. Tonight, I may think what I laid down is transcendent and not to be altered, but tomorrow I may be of the utmost certainty that my vocals --- in a word --- suck. Overall, I think I'll be pleased at the final results, even if there are moments that make me cringe.
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I'm pretty sure I'm going to ask Sarah out, it's just a matter of when. I'm playing it by ear a little; she's still a bit of a mystery and, though I've had indications she'd be receptive to a courtship, there have been other indications that point to the contrary. So basically business as usual --- I'm flying blind here, but I'm taking it all in stride. One concern I had, her friendship with and resultant loyalty to Mara, has played out to be not much of a concern at all, at least on Sarah's end. If something does come out of this, though, I would want to be delicate about presenting the situation to Mara. For all I know, she'd be thrilled, but that is a dubious, at best, prospect.

Overall, I wouldn't be devastated if Sarah found the idea of seeing me distasteful; I haven't been pining over her to the detriment of my daily business, or anything, but I do like her quite bit, and I certainly find her attractive --- she has a wolfish glint in her eyes that sets me to stammer if I make eye contact with her when speaking. So, unless I'm given clear signs that she will reject me, it looks like I'll be asking her out at some point.

Somehow through the days I don't give in, I hide the tears that wait within

About twenty minutes ago, I backed into the driveway and saw that the door to my house was wide open. That wasn't alarming; Rich often keeps the door open to let some air into the house. I stayed in the car for a minute or two, gathering up some trash to throw away. While this was going on, I had the thought that the door to the house would be closed when I made it to the house. Why did I think this? Because Rich, despite being an otherwise normal guy, does this type of thing. I won't go into detail here, because, frankly, it would take a couple of posts to really plumb the depths of his frequently odd behavior.

Sure enough, when I got out of the car, I saw that the door was indeed closed. Could it be he didn't see my car in the driveway, even though it was only about five feet away from the door and fairly loud music was emanating from it? I think you can answer that yourself. What really irked me, was that when I attempted to open the door, it was locked. Was that some kind of point he was making? Was he playing a little prank on me? Did he worry that a burglar would take advantage of the unlocked door, make his way into the house, rape and butcher him before he made off with all his valuables, before I got out of my car? This last scenario--- and this should give you an idea of Rich's thought process --- is the most likely, in my opinion. But, that's where I'm ending this topic, because I just don't have it in me today to try and figure out the psychology behind my roommate.
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Spira threw a birthday party for Seany Boy yesterday at his place in JP and, after having some other plans fall through, I decided to attend. I picked Sarah up and we carpooled over. We only got a little lost and made it there in one piece.

It was a nice gathering. I got to meet Sean's friends, all nice people, and Luke Warm and Janelle represented from my side of the street. There was a big spread of food, only some of which I took advantage of, unfortunately. Guess I wasn't that hungry.

I had fun playing with Zico, Janelle's pooch, and at one point he managed to rip apart his plush toy chicken, removing a small clear plastic bag from it. At first it appeared to be a bag of coke, but upon closer inspection, it was apparent that it was only the little plastic button wrapped in gauze that makes the toy squeak. Even still, I jokingly accused Janelle of transporting dope and Sean, after overhearing me, came over to make sure I was kidding because his cousin, who was in attendance, was a DEA agent and probably wouldn't be thrilled at seeing a bag of dope being tossed around by a dog. It would have sucked if Z got busted.

Had a good conversation with a guy (forget his name) from Dublin. I told him I'd like to get over to the "homeland" someday and trace my roots. "Listen", he said, "All you'll have to do is announce your name and you'll be well taken care of. You'll have a lot of drinks bought for you and before you know it, you'll be a bona fide lush." Maybe I'll go to Brussells instead.

After the party, I came home and hung with Craig and discussed the recording we've been doing while listening to some Lee Perry. Later, I stepped outside to see what was going on with the neighborhood block party. Not much at all, it turned out. Lame, just like last year's party.

Know what? It's unavoidable, but I'm not thrilled over the fact that I'm the guy women pass over in favor of my other, better looking friends. It's happened so much in my life, in addition to other types of rejection, that I'm pretty much fed up and don't feel like making much of an effort with women. A defeatist attitude I suppose, but one with merit. One day, even though the odds are slim, I'd like to find myself when I'm in a situation where I'm interested in someone who is equally interested in me. Doesn't seem like a tall order, but holy fuck is it ever! Oh, well, not going to stew over this any longer. Going to listen to some Everly Brothers and maybe watch An American Werewolf In London.

Speaking of movies, I was pretty impressed with Blood Diamond. Leo Dicaprio had the performance of his carreer and should have won an Oscar, but it was enough that he was nominated. Good stuff.

If you needed me, I would come to you, I would swim the seas, for to ease your pain

A productive recording session last night. We focused on vocals --- I felt some of the ones I'd already laid down needed to be done over --- and I was happy with the results. We'll go at it again tomorrow night; I'm looking forward to it.
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I've got two new songs that, once I've added lyrics to them, will be complete. I'm really pleased with how they have turned out so far. I'm hoping to have them recorded, which will give me a solid six song demo to work with.
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My Holy Grail of Bigfoot books, John Green's Sasquatch: Apes Among Us, arrived in the mail today and I'm excited to dive into it. I've already read the preface and I can tell I'm going to love this book.
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Had some crazy dreams last night. One involved a young, reckless woman I was seeing who got me in trouble with a bunch of people, including my friend, Andy. I woke up immediately after having the dream, but I could not recall her visage. It seemed to me she was someone I've known in this life, but, as of this writing, I don't know who she is.

The other dream involved Spira in some capacity I can't recall, and a notable scene involving me resting on a couch in my parent's basement (a central location for many of my dreams) wrapped cozily in a thick blanket. A simple scene, but it stuck with me all day. You can't go home again.
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Went for a run with Spira after work. I ran to her apartment, which was on my normal route, and, after meeting up with her, we walked and ran for at least a couple of miles. When we finished, we sat on a stone wall and talked for awhile.

When we parted company, I ran the mile or so back to my place. It was a good workout and, though I don't know the total distance I ran, it was a lot more than my usual routine. We plan on doing this again, which is fine with me. It's good to have a running partner.
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Listening to a lot of Townes Van Zandt lately. I just got the dual-disc High, Low, and In Between/The Late, Great Townes Van Zandt. I've been paying particular attention to his backing band on those records---man, they're tight! It's unfortunate Townes never really got his due; he was a fantastic songwriter.
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It's getting late and I have things to do. Konichiwa, bitches!

I've been out in front of a dozen dead oceans

Work is going well, except there's not much of it right now. Today, my coworker Deb, whispered to me that she expects them to cut more hours or outright let people go. I won't be surprised if something like that happens---it'll be a shame, because I like the job---but I've been through similar situations before and I don't suspect my world will be shattered if my tenure at the firm comes to an abrupt end. Of course, I would not be the picture of contentment, either.

Craig and I spent most of Sunday recording. We put a good chunk into four of my songs and tonight we'll get back to work. Overall, I've been happy with the proceedings, especially when I consider that we're doing this pretty quickly and there are bound to be resultant blemishes and warts. Sometimes, though, it's hard to be objective. I've alternated between smiling and cringing when I listen back to what I've done so far. I think I've written some good songs, but I'm not always sure I've performed them the right way. That's how we improve, right? By not being easily satisfied?


So, with that, I'm going to prepare myself for another go at recording. I'm excited to hear the finished product. This has been good for my psyche. Reminds me that I'm proficient at something, that I'm not some purposeless lout. Life has a way of suppressing our gifts, but they can never be extinguished.

She has a house and garden, I would like to see what happens

Saw Aleister perform at Sally O'briens in Union Sq. with Mara last night. The show started at six and, consequently, there wasn't much of an audience. Aleister is a great performer in the classic Folk tradition and one of Mara's best friends. Accompanying him on a sweet Tele was his friend, whose name I forget so I'll henceforth refer to him as Kid Cookie.

(Edit: I just saw that I had a couple of calls from my grandmother that I missed. I nearly panicked, thinking of all sorts of unfavorable scenarios for why she called. Why would she call me this late? I sat there hoping she was alright, but feared her health had taken a turn for the worse. I even envisioned calling her back and my father answering, explaining that she had passed away. In the midst of all this thinking, my phone buzzed, alerting me I had a voice mail. I listened to it immediately and, thank God, it was her voice on the other end. Turns out she called to thank me for putting her windows in the other day. Whew!)

Mara and I ate burgers as we watched them play. I got a mushroom swiss with fries and it really hit the spot. Between sets, Aleister joined us and ate the onions Mara had taken off her burger. It wasn't very appetizing watching him dip them in ketchup and eating them like chips.

There was a guy in the bar who looked like a skinny, haggard, weather-beaten Hobbit. I couldn't take my eyes off this mythical creature; Mara told me not to stare on more than one occassion, but I ignored her. If she evers sees a unicorn when I'm with her, I'll implore her not stare. See how she likes it.

After the show, I came back to the house and did some recording with Craig. We came close to finishing a song and I'm thrilled at how it's progressing. We're going to put more time into it tomorrow and I'm really looking forward to it. The goal is to record at least four of my songs, but if Craig is willing to to take the time to do more, I'm not going to object.

Okay, I'm going to play some music and maybe watch Frailty or Michael Clayton.

Well, the wind careens madly through wide windows paneless, fragrances mingle in a room full of shame

Went to my grandmother's house after work today. Ostensibly, the reason for the visit was to give my sister the diaper bag I had retrieved from the police station in Everett, but it had been a while since I'd last seen my grandmother and I looked forward to seeing her.

I installed storm windows in her porch with the help of my sister. My grandmother couldn't help herself and put herself to work, my admonishments to go sit down and relax notwithstanding. She was trying to move these door-sized windows around the porch and my sister and I finally had to put our collective foot down and order her to sit down. She obeyed, but only for a few minutes. Stubborn, that one.
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Craig announced he'll be moving back in with his parents at the end of the year while he attends school. It'll be sad seeing him go. The three of us lived well together.
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I've had some vivid and bizarre dreams lately. I won't even bother delving into them because they won't read well. I do, however, think they were important, which is why I even brought them up.
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Linda Godfrey, author of The Beast of Bray Road and Hunting the American Werewolf, has an online radio show and I've been avidly listening to the archived episodes. The show covers all sorts of high strangeness---Bigfoot, werewolves, ghosts, ufo's, shadow people, etc. Linda and her co-host do a great job with the show and each episode is riveting. I'm hooked, baby!

Speaking of high strangeness, I just caught up with Lost last night. Good stuff. What's the deal with Locke? Don't know-- I'll have to wait until next year to see what happens next. Oh, I can't wait, I tells ya.
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Have more to say, but if I don't finish this now, I won't be able to get to other stuff that begs my attention. Tomorrow, I'll try to pick up where I left off. Aloha.

My autumn's done come

I went to the Everett police station this morning to retrieve my sister's diaper bag. According to Mapquest, the distance from my place to the station was about five miles, with a drive time of about twelve minutes. Well, fuck you, Mapquest! Seriously, fuck you.

It took me about an hour to find the place. I wasn't pleased. It should have been an easy matter: follow Rte 16 for two miles, take a left on Vine st, and two more quick lefts before ending at the police station. I discovered immediately that there are almost no street signs on Rte 16, at least not between Medford and Everett. And if you miss a turn, like I did several times, you have to drive forever before you can loop back around.

I called the police station after making no progress for twenty minutes. I explained to the person I was speaking with the directions I got from Mapquest and he said they were way off, that I needed to go further up 16 and take a left onto a street I forget the name of. That didn't help me much because there were no street signs to guide me.

Eventually, through trial and error, I found the police station and picked up the bag. Everything was in it save my sister's camera. I called her and told her the news. She was relieved to have the bag back---they didn't take her check book ---but she felt violated and sad that she'd never geet to see the pictures she took of her daughter's first day at school.
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I couldn't stay focused on anything I attempted to do last night and jumped from activity to activity without being productive. Don't know what that was all about.

Had a dream last night about hanging out with some old friends in Nashua. We were bar hopping and having a good time. I woke up feeling a little melancholy, knowing those days are behind me.
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A woman, middle eastern looking, walked by me in Davis Sq. with a t-shirt that said " I am not a terrorist". Pretty cool. I only wish I was wearing my shirt that said " Did I say you were one, bitch?". No, that would have been too ornery. I should have worn this one: " Terrorist or not, I'm still going to rob you." And rob her I did.

Don't think of the dangers you could have avoided if only you had stayed

I had two hopes concerning yesterday's wedding: That the ceremony would be brief and that there would be good eats at the reception. Whatever else happened, I'd consider the event a success if my hopes were manifested. They were.

Earlier in the day, I pretty much dicked around until it was absolutely imperative for me to get ready. I won't relive the unnecessary stress I put on myself rushing around multi-tasking and sweating like a pig on a rotisserie. Just know that I somehow got to the church with a few minutes to spare before the ceremony started. I even beat my sister and her family, who barely made it on time. They really need to get their act together.

The rain came down at almost precisely the same moment the ceremony began. I don't really believe in omens, but if I did, I'd say that certainly wasn't a good one. The priest looked like Cliff Claven and talked a lot about Jesus and love. He shared a couple of anecdotes that were meant to be funny, but weren't. At least not to me.

Every time he said something like "Jesus brought you together and Jesus will keep you together", I'd think: " How can you say that with any certainty? You can't even come close to proving that God exists and Jesus is his only son". I only felt a little guilty for having those thoughts. Maybe I've grown cynical over time --- I used to be more accepting of creation myths and religious dogma ---but I'd prefer to think I've just opened my eyes. I haven't just dumbly believed everything that's been presented to me. I know, this coming from a guy who's convinced there is a species or two of giant bipedal apes that exist in North America, but in the case of Bigfoot, there isn't only anecdotal evidence to go on.

My intention with this post is not to make it an essay on my religious beliefs, but I will say that, even though I think most organized religion has only a loose affiliation with the truth, I still believe there is something out there greater than all of us, a guiding force that cannot be pinned down, that is inexpressible. To see otherwise intelligent and seemingly thoughtful people buy into their faith without questioning it even a little bit, is a little disturbing to me, I confess. Know what, though? It looks like a lot of these "sheeple" are better adjusted than I am, leading healthy, fruitful lives. Maybe there's something to organized religion. They could serve better food during mass, though; one wafer and a little wine doesn't cut it. How about some bagel bites?

The ceremony, as I stated above, was brief and afterward we all filed out into the rain to head over to the reception in Andover. Once there, my sister told us she couldn't find the diaper bag she had left in the van when they headed into the church. It had her camera and check book and she was concerned that it was stolen. More on that later.

I sat with my family at a table that was placed as far back as you could get. I didn't care; we were situated so close to the kitchen that we had first dibs on all the food, of which there was a bounty. Scallops and bacon, spinach pie, quesadillas, chicken fingers, meatballs, and bread and cheese. All of these appetizers were delicious and they kept coming and coming. I felt like the Marx Bros. in Night At The Opera when they crashed the banquet on the ship they were stowaways on and stare wide-eyed at all the food being heaped on their plates. I've never been to a wedding with food as delicious and plentiful as this one.

When I saw that my nieces Kiley and Shannon were getting bored, I initiated a game of twenty questions with them and we played round after round until I got bored with their lack of skill (It took them nineteen questions to guess Dieter Dierks! What the fuck?). At one point, my cousin Michelle and her newly-anointed husband Michael made their way over to our table and said hello. It was strange seeing her all grown up. I still think of her as the little girl who used to follow me and her older brother around at the lake in Maine.

Her brother Brian came by a few minutes later. After talking with him for a bit, I discovered we live only a few minutes away from each other. I gave him my number and we made tentative plans to grab a drink some time along with his girlfriend, Hannah, whose uncle, she told me, had a bit part in Fanny and Alexander. I'm curious to know the details of that story. Maybe she could give me the juice on Liv Ullman.

I left the reception around ten and made the treacherous drive home through the brutal rain. I thought about how unlikely it is that I'll ever get married and that made me a little sad. It's still possible, obviously, but the odds are not in my favor, not at my age. Ah, but who wouldn't want to marry me? Don't answer that question.

My sister called me this morning and told me a guy had found her diaper bag on the side of the road in Reading, miles from the church. He dropped it off at the police station near his house in Everett. She asked me if I wouldn't mind picking it up for her. I told her I would and we marveled at why someone would steal a diaper bag from a church parking lot. And they didn't even take her check book or camera. Maybe they just wanted the diapers. Gross!
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I walked over to Rite Aid yesterday to purchase an iron, and on my way there I saw two women having an argument with a guy next to a moving truck. I noticed that the truck had sheared off a sizable branch from a tree on the sidewalk. That was what they were arguing about. He downplayed what happened. "It's just a tree branch", he said.

The women were in tears. "It's a living thing!", one of them sobbed.

You see some interesting things around here, to be sure.
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A word of congratulations to my friend and reader of this blog, Frank, for his recent nuptials. Love the pictures you posted, Frank; the joy in your faces is palpable. Wish you all the best!
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Went to the Greek festival on Central st. with Spira and Seany Boy Friday night. I hadn't eaten anything substantial since breakfast and I was starving. Each of us got a big plate of food and we sat under the big tent on the lawn and pigged out while we listened to an incredible group of musicians belt out some traditional greek music. After we ate, Spira joined the group of dancers in front of the band. It was a treat to watch, especially with all the hot women who were involved. I had tiny crushes on at least four women that night. We stayed longer than we intended to, but the music and the festive vibe made it hard to leave. A good night.

And speaking of good nights, I bid you all one because I'm out of here, bitches.

Three kings with the legions come, and preparations soon were made

Escalay (The Water Wheel), Hamza El Din's epic masterpiece, arrived in the mail the other day and I've been listening to it a lot. For those of you who don't who or what a Hamza El Din is, he is a human from Nubia and plays the oud. The album I just got is considered to be among his best. Feel like I should be drinking some mushroom tea when I listen to him, which, even though I don't ever plan on doing 'shrooms ever again, suggests he's the oud player for me.
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At Bed Bath & Beyond earlier this evening, Spira was fooling around with the little key chains that were on display at the counter while I was waiting for the clerk to print out my cousin's wedding gift wish list. The key chains were neat--- each of them different creatures from the animal kingdom---and if you pushed the button on their back, their eyes flashed in a harsh, silver glow and they called out in a manner representing their species. When I spotted the chimp, I smiled and took note of the synchronicity that had just taken place.

When I was working at Taylor Rental, my coworker Kim came into work one day and showed me her new toy. It was the chimp key chain, the same one I'd see months later at Bed, Bath, and Beyond. I fell in love with it instantly; the combination of the flashing eyes and the piercing cry of "ooh ooh aahh aahh ahhhhhh" made me want desperately to either buy one as soon as I was able, or steal Kim's. I neglected to pursue either option and soon forgot about the chimp .

Upon our arrival at the store this evening, I saw Kim getting into her car a few rows away from mine. I pointed her out to Spira, refererencing her as a conniving bitch, as we headed into the store. Not two minutes later did we see the chimp key chain. Almost eerie, this series of events. A lot of that type of thing has been happening to me lately.
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Spira and I had been debating over which Bed, Bath, & Beyond to go to--- the only one I knew of was in Burlinton, so I headed there. When Spira caught wind of our direction, she said, "Nuh-uh, lets go to the one in Everett, it's closer."

"Yeah, but there'll be a ton of traffic on 16", I replied.

"I'm telling you we'll be there so much quicker if we go to Everett."

"Alright, we'll go there."

"You'll see, we'll be there a lot quicker."

" I know, but I was thinking more about comfort than timing. Burlington would have been a smoother ride."

When we arrived at the store, which most certainly was a lot closer than the one in Burlington, Spira said, "See, I was right: it's much closer!"

I laughed. "I never really disagreed with you on that."

"I want you to tell me I was right and you were wrong."

"Well, I don't know if I'd go that far."

"Concede!", she said in a firm and even tone that brooked no argument.

That cracked me up. "Concede? What are you, a Roman general?"

We laughed at how awesome my line was and how sexy and groovy I was for saying it with such impeccable timing and delivery. She gazed at me with the same awe I imagine primitive man must have reserved for the stars in the sky. And then we got out of the car and saw my old coworker Kim, the conniving bitch.

They sing a song my poor heart never can forget

I've been pretty good, especially lately, about considering what food I allow down my hatch. Last night, though, I decided to loosen the shackles of healthy living and walk over to The White Hen and buy some sparkling water and a bag of mint-flavored Milanos. Somehow I rationalized that I owed it to myself and Pepperidge Farm to enjoy two or three, conceivably four---ok, maybe five if things get out of hand---of their exquisite cookies. I decided it was best not to get in the way of this thought process and went forth to meet my destiny. Should have just got the water.

In all candor, I nearly ate the entire bag of cookies. I knew the day would come when I'd cross the threshold from snacking to gorging, from etiquette to savagery, when it came to these treats. I just didn't think it would happen last night. The only thing that made me feel less lousy about the incident was that I at least left a few in the bag.

A subsequent frank assessment of the situation, however, revealed the effect wouldn't have been all that different if I had gone all the way and committed cookie genocide and left not a trace of their existence: I still committed the sin of excess. To that end, I went for a long, guilt-born power walk to burn off some of the calories and shame, if possible. It was my penance for a foul deed committed. I'm not out of the water yet, though; things look to turn grim later on; I see a quick and brutal end to the aforementioned remaining few cookies. God damn Milanos!

Though I've been weakened by the black arts of Pepperidge Farm---not only the Milanos possess me, but the Goldfish, too--- I am determined to crawl out from under this thing. It won't be easy, will take guts, determination, and a healthy attitude---three things I have in spades---to escape from the prison camp that is Pepperidge Farm, but escape I will.
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I'm not really looking forward to this wedding I'm going to on Saturday. I'm not close with that side of my family (my mother's) and I imagine there's going to be a lot of sizing up beneath the small talk. It's been years since I've seen any of them; I hope it won't be too awkward an experience.

Ah, I'm sure it'll be alright. It will probably be a fun time, culminating with me sleeping with one of the hot bridesmaids later that night. I'll make her breakfast the following morning (fresh fruit, coffee, and scones) and later on, when I drop her off at her car, I'll say: "Look, baby, last night was some magical shit. We painted a physical masterpiece on the canvas that was my bed and the long and the short of it all is I think I've fallen in love with you. You make me want to be a better man.

And she'll reply: "Isn't that last thing you said a line from that Jack Nicholson movie, the one with that blond lady from Mad About You.

"As Good As It Gets?"

"Yeah, that one. Isn't what you said from that movie?"

"No."

And then, after we hug and kiss for awhile, we'll agree to become boyfriend and girlfriend.
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Been munching on some Lee Hazelwood, Lee Scratch Perry, Townes Van Zandt, and the new Sigor Ros these past few days. Good stuff and they all have one thing in common. Know what it is? I'll tell you: they're all from Iceland. Nah, I'm just pulling your leg, but I meant what I said about it being good stuff.
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I'm up to two new songs and of course the only thing they need are lyrics, because I approach writing lyrics with the same enthusiasm I'd extend to a midnight showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. But I'll get 'er done, as Larry the Cable Guy is wont to say, and have a pair of new songs I'm content with under my belt.

I'd taken about a month off from doing any songwriting; didn't even pick up the guitar once. What I did instead was listen to a ton of music, more than usual and all across the map. And by listen, I mean actually sit there and absorb what was coming out of my speakers. I'll go through periods like this at least once a year. Music is still an education for me, and as I've discovered during this last stint of focused listening, there's still a lot to learn.