Stillness is the move

Here they are, the much anticipated, and pined for, year end awards! On a scale of 1 to ten, 2009 was a vomited upon, steaming mound of fecal matter floating idly in a cess pool. Yeah, it stunk, but I'm hoping it will prove to be a blessing in disguise; the presentiment, the seed of positive, healthy changes. Ear to the ground, I'm hearing similar sentiments from more than a few others, at least the part about the year being a foul one. You know, a lot of fine things happened this year, I don't want to forget about that. Perspective, people, is a good muscle to flex.

Enough of my meanderings, let's hand out some awards.

Best BFF (canine)

Baby Boy Z. Poochey Bottoms. Poocherific. Zicolicious. Licious. Super Dog. Whatever the name he happens to be going by, Zico is the only game in town. I defy you to spend five minutes with him and not fall in love with him. You'll want to be BFFs with him, but you can't because I'm his BFF, son! But you can still hang out, the two of you, that will be allowed.

Blockbuster News Item I Can't Get Real Worked Up Over

The whole Tiger Woods scandal. Yawn. I grant you, it's good copy. Just doesn't interest me.

Favorite Album

It arrived at it late, but better late than not at all: Bitte Orca, by The Dirty Projectors. First of all, it's got lovely and intricate female harmonies throughout. My favorite kind. And the musicianship, especially the guitar playing, is top notch. The best thing about the album is the songs. What craftsmanship! I've listened to it about ten times and am still digesting it, still discovering morsels of greatness. The implied influences are all over the map, but taken together make one cohesive, refreshing, and unique collection of songs. I hear Yes, King Sunny Aid, Captain Beefheart, Aliyah, Neil Finn, Paul Simon, Slint. But when I do, it's passes quick, a wisp in the wind.

Favorite Album (Runner Up)

Actor, by St. Vincent. Much of the same qualities I like about Bitte Orca are shown here. I love her voice, I love her songs, I love her musicianship.

Let's make this award a tie. Marnie Stern's latest, which I won't name here because it's would take up a paragraph to do so. She comes off like a cheerleader on speed with a sinister streak who grew up on Van Halen and math rock. Her teaming up with Zach Hill on drums reminds me of Joni Mitchell's pairing with Jaco Pastorious on at least two records. That is a good thing.

The "I'm Not Done With You Yet, You Little Piece Of Shit!" award

2009. Driving through Cambridge earlier, I was going about four miles per hour, maybe less -- through the driving snow -- and slid into the car in front of me. The most gentle tap you could imagine. Seriously. We got out of our cars, inspected the damage, which was nonexistent, and this is what followed.

Me: Looks fine to me. I can't even tell where I hit you.

Him: Well, I'd like to exchange insurance information, just in case.

Me: (wanting to get this over with because we're in the middle of the road at a stop light with people skidding out all around us) Here, I'll write down my license plate # and....

Him: Let me do it, I can read my own writing better. (He goes into his car to get his own pen. Guess mine wouldn't have done the trick. He comes back with a stack of papers -- his whole insurance policy) Can I see you insurance information?

Me: I don't have any, per se. I can tell you the name of the company.

Him: Why don't you have insurance.

Me: I do. I just don't have any documentation with me (A brief aside. Am I the only one who doesn't keep his insurance info - a card or what not -- in his car? Should I have this? Is there a card everyone carries around? )

Him: (shakes his head) Well, how am I going to get your information.

Okay, I'm agitated now. There wasn't even superficial damage to either of our cars, and this guy's making a big deal about this. I finally say, "Look, if you really want to delve deep into this, really flesh this thing out, then I suggest we meet somewhere safer than the middle of a snow covered, busy, road. Otherwise, I'm leaving. You've got enough of my information." He got in his car, turned around and headed the opposite way. I didn't follow him. As I drove away, I saw that he had pulled over into a parking lot. Guess he wanted to explore the matter further. I kept going. Fuck him! I'd still be there now with him, most likely, filling out paperwork, undergoing a thorough psychological profile, and most importantly, having my time wasted. Over less than a scratch .Glad I got hooked up with this anal son of a bitch. Oh, 2009, you do surprise!


Well, this is getting lengthy. Looks like the rest of the awards will have to spill over into another post. Have a happy and safe New Year's Eve, readers. I'm not sure what I'm doing yet. I might just end up spending it by myself. We'll see.

Fall in love and fall apart, things will end before they start

Since I had yesterday off, today was my Monday. Work went well enough. Getting in my car to come home, my door wouldn't close. Seat belt must be in the way, I thought. Nope. My coat? Nope. Oh, so the door's fucked up? Yup. With all the troubles my car has had, I did not expect this one. The drive home was interesting. I'll leave it at that. When I got home, I managed to shut the door. I'll be coming and going through the passenger side for a while until I can figure out what's going on.

The comedy of errors continued when I got home, but I don't want to relive any of it, if you don't mind. Trying not give energy to unpleasant things. It wasn't so bad, but one thing on top of the other.... you know how that can go. And, it's fucking cold, son!

I called my grandmother earlier. Her hearing aid is on the fritz. Here's a sample of our conversation.

Me: The door wouldn't shut

Nana: You've had enough?

Me: No, the door, the door to my car, it wouldn't shut

Nana: You're in your car?

Me: THE DOOOOOORR WOULD NOOOOT SHUUUUTT.

Nana: You shut the door?

Me: No, um, anyway, how are things with you?

Poor woman can't hear or see very well anymore. Yet she's getting around and looks good, better than she did a couple of years ago when I thought she was going to die.

Been meditating and trying to see, in my every day life, how rampant my thoughts are. Verdict: they are rampant. Been reading The Power Of Now, which has been very instructive and a treat to read (thanks, Janellio for letting me borrow it). One thing Tolle states eloquently and succinctly in the book is that time is an illusion. When you think about it, you realize it truly is. The past does not exist, except in memory and the future does not exist except in our fantasies of what we think or hope it will be. So, if you take away the past and the future, you're left with only with the present, which is Now. All we truly have is Now, the rest is illusion.

Concurrently, I'm reading Lynne McTaggart's The Intention Experiment, her follow up to The Field, which delves into the mysteries of quantum physics and the power of intention. Great stuff.

At work today, Tim, one of the Attorneys, told a few of us about a book he was reading about a nineteenth century expedition to Antarctica. I asked him if it was about Shackleton. He said it was fiction, more supernatural, like a Stephen King novel. I knew right away he was talking about Dan Simmon's book The Terror, a book I've been meaning to read for awhile. Tim's copy of the book was a limited edition from Subterranean Press, a small Sci Fi/ Fantasy publisher. I'm dying to ask him about the authors he reads. I always get excited when I meet someone with similar reading tastes, especially when they're of the Fantasy variety.

Even though Tolkien was arguably the greatest and most influential author of the last one hundred years, the genre he virtually created, Fantasy, has never been taken seriously in so-called literary circles. To me, a good story is a good story, no matter how it's labeled. Even some of the genre's authors try to distance themselves from it by calling their work Speculative Fiction. Ridiculous. All fiction is more or less speculative and since it's not "real", it's all fantasy anyway. Geez! I digress. Let's finish this post.

It's true: Dirty Projectors are incredible!

Ok, time to get my Tudors on.

Unchained, nothing stays the same

I could be on the verge of a cold. Last night I got the scratchy throat; it's still here. We'll see what happens. Despite not knowing what I'm doing on New Year's Eve, I'd rather not be sick during it.

I was looking forward to seeing Avatar today with Spira, but that fell through. How it did I won't get into except to say I don't think it had much, or anything to do with me. Kind of sad, the whole experience. And unfair to me, I think. I've moved on from it. Seems she ended up seeing the movie anyway with someone else. Guess our energies don't match up well these days. I'll see the movie with Janelle and whoever wants to join us in a few days. I will be very disappointed if I don't see it in the theater.

Some things don't progress the way you think they might. There's been a bit of that going around lately. Not a bad thing, necessarily, but maybe a little disappointing. To quote Mr. Gump, "That's all I have to say about that."

While Janelle's in New York, me and the Baby Boy Z have christened the abode Man Town. We've been having fun. We've been playing, cuddling, napping, and taking walks. I'm thinking about getting us matching tattoos to commemorate our time together -- maybe something tribal -- but I have a feeling Janelle might not appreciate coming home to find her dog's face has been tattooed.

Going to watch me some Tudors. I love this show so much! Everything about it. So, on that note....

Before this dance is through, I'm going to love you, too

I had a nice Christmas, in case you were wondering. If you were, well I feel positively shameful that it has taken me this long to enlighten you. You can relax now; go heat up your coffee, put on some loose-fitting clothes, sit before your computer and settle in to what is going to be a very satisfying reading experience. Go ahead, I'll wait.

My Christmas:

My day began at my parent's house. I arrived early, around ten, so that I could trouble shoot some issues they were having with their computer. Their main problem was that they couldn't log on to their Yahoo account. That took less than twenty eight seconds to remedy. I helped them with a couple more things and then, because they were interested, I showed them the wonderful and mysterious world of Facebook. Their interest was generated from my mother's conversation with one of her coworkers, who told her how much fun she had playing Farmville on the website. Perusing Facebook with my parents was a tiny bit surreal, like worlds colliding, but mostly it was fun giving them the guided tour, which, as I conducted it, made me realize how cool the site is.

My sister and her family arrived shortly after our Facebooking. Kids everywhere, screaming with Christmas exuberance. My four year old niece, Colleen, was given a camera. She stood in the middle of the room while the rest of us opened presents and ran down a list of the people she wanted to gather before her and pose for a picture. My name was absent from the list. My dad picked up on it and kept asking her "What about Kevin?". To which she replied, in a dismissive tone, "No, just the girls". Considering there were three males on her list, I found her reply to be unacceptable. Funny, my sister's kids have a way of shunning me throughout the early portions of our encounters. Maybe she's poisoning them against me. If she is, it's not working: her kids always end up glued to my side, basking in the light of my pure heart.

My parent's gave me a GPS. I was surprised, but thankful. It may turn out, God forbid, that the GPS will be useless to me if my car shits the bed. I guess I could carry it in my pocket as I walk everywhere. Ah, let's hope this scenario does NOT come to pass.

After my parent's, we headed to my grandmother's house, where there were more children, maybe eight in total. My sister and I watched them all running around and reflected on how most of the adults in the room used to be those little kids, doing the same things in this very house. Won't be much longer, I'm sad to say, that we celebrate holidays there.

I'm not going to lie to you, I ate my fair share of food that day, most of it not necessarily good for me. So what, that's what you do on Christmas. I brought food home, so did Janelle. As far as I can tell, there's no way to get rid of it except to eat it. We've got our work cut out for us.

Overall, it was a good Christmas. Always nourishing being around friends and family.

Yesterday, I went to Spira's for breakfast. Her friends Ava and Hiyanne (sp) ate with us. Eggs, bacon, spinach pie, coconut coffee, more bacon = yum! I caught Ava looking at me at one point and, after telling me she liked my energy,she asked me what sign I was. I gave her three guesses but she couldn't figure out I was Cancer. She thought I had more of an edge than most Cancers. I told her it had more to do with my pure heart. Ok, I didn't tell her that.

Hung out with Mara last night. We watched Doubt, a film we both enjoyed. Want to see incredible acting? No, really, do you? Ok, well, go watch this movie -- now! Meryl Streep, Phillip Seymour Hoffman, or Phil Hoffman, as I call him because we're pretty much best friends -- that's an all-star lineup.

Today, I drove to Burlington and burned through some gift cards. I picked up a Lyn McTaggert book, a new blouse and a pair of dungarees, some groceries. Not all at the same store, you understand. I shelled out about three dollars for the book and clothes after redeeming my gift cards. I like it when that happens.

I also used up a gift card at Newbury Comics and picked up the latest Animal Collective cd, which, after one listen, is very good, and the latest offering by the Dirty Projectors, which is very, very good. I'm positive it will be a favorite of mine for a long, long, long, long time to come. That's a long time, son!

And tomorrow, I'm seeing Avatar at the Omni theater in Reading. I'm pretty excited about this one.

I suppose I need to get rolling with the year end awards before the year ends. Stay tuned, you're going to LOVE it.

All I want for Christmas is you

It is Christmas Eve, though it doesn't feel like it. I spent most of the afternoon watching Dexter, not exactly holiday fare, to be sure, but I enjoyed it. It was a quiet day, overall. I did some yoga, went for a run, took a nap. Simple and nourishing. No sexy adventures. Just a quiet day.

I emailed holiday greetings to some of my contacts at work yesterday. In all but one, I wished the recipient a Merry Christmas. I debated whether I should offer up a "Happy Holidays" greeting instead, lest I offend or alienate anyone, but decided against it. Know why? Because all I'm doing is offering them a Merry Christmas. If someone is offended by my peaceful greeting, then they're overly sensitive, in my estimation. There is such a thing as being too politically correct, and even though most people are so because of good intentions, but I don't need to tell you what the road to Hell is paved with.

The one person I spared the "Merry Christmas" greeting I was pretty sure was Jewish. Judging by her reply, which was laden with references to Christmas and Jesus, I was wrong on that count.

Upon finishing up my yoga session yesterday, I realized it was the perfect time to set up my prank on Janelle, who hadn't come home from work yet. I had decided a few days ago that I was going to fashion some pillows and blankets on our futon in the shape of a body to fool Janelle into thinking someone was napping. I got to work and was proud of the finished product. For all intents and purposes, it looked as if a slight individual, most likely a woman, was side sleeping on our futon.

To sweeten the pot, I broke out a couple of wine glasses, poured a tiny bit of wine in each and left them on the dining room table. The entire time I laughed insanely at the prospect of Janelle coming home, seeing the wine glasses and then the sleeping person, and wondering how it all came to be. Meanwhile, I'd be up in my room, giggling like a school girl. I thought about leaving a condom wrapper on the floor where she could see it, but decided to keep it simple.

She'd been home for a bit before I came downstairs. I realized I had two ways of approaching the prank. I could tell her the sleeper was someone I took home with me. I didn't go too far with that line of thought because I knew whatever story I concocted would crumble before I got two sentences out. There was no way I'd be able to keep a straight face. The other approach was to tell her I had no idea who the individual was, that I came home to the same scene she did. That would mean Rich was the one having the afternoon party.

I ended up fessing up pretty quickly that it was a prank. When Janelle asked me who was sleeping on our futon, I couldn't contain my smile. All I could manage was to tell her the person was with me and that she should follow me into the other room to see who it was. I bent over the "body", shook it, and then pulled off the blankets to reveal the truth. Oh, it was fun seeing Janelle's face.

I tucked in the sleeper again, hoping to get more legs out of the prank with Rich. I have no idea what he thinks. I was in the kitchen with him last night, on the phone. All of a sudden, he interrupted my conversation and said, "Hey, uh, I'm going into work early tomorrow - it's the last day I'll have to go in that early -- and, uh, could you, uh, just, you know, keep that in mind, uh, not that you've been noisy at night, but, you know, just keep that in mind. You don't, you know, have to, uh, tip toe, around or anything, but, uh, you know, I just want to make sure I, uh, you know, uh get enough sleep."

It took what seemed about three minutes for him to get that out. The only reason I can think that he interrupted my conversation to tell me something he knew I already knew was because of the "sleeper" in the other room. Maybe he thought the house was gonna be rocking late into the night, or something. Anyway, the sleeper is still sleeping and, as far as I know, Rich is unaware that it's not a real human under the blanket. If he does think it's a person, one thing is for sure: he or she is a champion sleeper. Or dead.
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I'm going to my parent's house early in the morning before my sister and her family arrive so I can help my parents with their computer. From there, it's off to my grandmother's house. I hope it'll be a good day. I think it will be.

Despite it being a rather shitty holiday season for me, I think it may prove to be one of the more fruitful ones. I believe I'm on the verge of some positive changes, in fact I've already instituted one or two. I feel good, more hopeful than I've been in a while. Clearer. Stronger. Things are getting better.

Merry Christmas, readers.

There I will be, under the peach tree

I was due for something good. It came this weekend, unexpected. I'll savor it, even if it doesn't flower. I think I'd like it to, though. I am due. I'm being vague, yes, but only because I feel it's the right course of action, for now at least. It's enough to know my spirit was warmed, gifted with a glow that hasn't waned yet. I sit and savor.

I'm fixing a hole, where the rain gets in

Silent night, holy night....

I woke up periodically throughout the night, Christmas songs on auto play in head. Until I put some Gesualdo on, I was hearing them all morning while making breakfast, during my morning ablutions, and while I tried meditating on the ways of the universe. Craig had it right: I am a more sensitive listener because I'm a musician. Most everyone at work is able to tune the music out. If you wanted to take the piss out of me, you could suggest that if I actually focused on my work, I wouldn't be having this problem.

Just hear them sleigh bells ringing, ring ting tingling, too...

As far as Christmas spirit goes, I have zero. Nada. Nothing. I feel no connection with the holiday, not this year. Last year wasn't terrific, but there was still a spark. That is not to say I'm in a terrible state -- I'm not in a good one, to be sure, but I'm taking measures to improve my lot. It's just the timing of everything collapsing and the general makeup of my life that prevents me from grabbing that eggnog and caroling 'round the Christmas tree.

It is too bad. Perhaps tragic, that it's come to this. Maybe some day I'll regain the spirit. And regain is the operative word here. It wasn't so long ago that I had a panoply of Christmas spirit. Some of my best, warmest, most cherished memories center around the holiday. It's almost sinister how things turned out. I guess you can chalk it up to the loss of innocence most of us go through the older we get. And you can also chalk it up the absence of a significant other and a family of my own; the gradual dwindling of friendships; being so poor that I can't afford to buy gifts; my car on it's death bed; and the Christmas songs I once adored now more annoying and intrusive than horse flies.

It may be hard to believe, judging by the tone of the above and my last few posts, but I'm really trying to get past this, and by this I'm also referring to other matters that are on par with my car situation, just as shitty but too embarrassing to write about. I don't want to be in this situation, I hate how I arrived at it. I'm trying to grasp hold of anything positive. I feel I'm on the verge of discovery, the likes of which I've tried to grasp over the years but could never quite understand. It took being at the lowest point of my life to understand it better. It has to do with intention, the plasticity of our universe, a transformation away from the muck and the grime into something greater than I've ever imagined. The potential is there.
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Books:

I'm almost through The Brothers Karamazov. Profound is the only way to describe it.

Reading from The Field, a book I put down over the summer when it became too dense. Now, I can't put it down. It may be my salvation.

The Pillars Of The Earth. I'm getting there. Big fuckin' book.

Zen And The Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance. This one I've had kicking around for years, whether in my head or physically. I found a copy at the Good Will in Davis Sq. a couple of years ago. I've used it as a buffer between my a/c and windowsill. It's pretty beat up. Needing something positive, I picked it up the other night. Only got through a chapter or two, but it helped. I like the way it's written. I'll finish it one day.

TV/Film:

Last week I watched Dog Day Afternoon. It was good. Also saw Roman Polanski's debut Knife In The Water. Reminded me a bit of L'Aventura, a film I disliked. This was better, though. I just thought it would be a lot better. Still, I'd watch it again.

I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus underneath the mistletoe last night....

Quiet, you!

Watched a few episodes from Season 3 of Dexter. Everyone has been going ape shit over Season 4's finale. Damn, I wish I was caught up!

But there's The Tudors, a show I'd been curious about, but because of some crappy reviews, avoided. When I saw that the first season was on Netflix's Watch Instantly, I decided to give it a try. Hollah! Love it! It's right up my alley. Looks great (one of my favorite periods of history), well acted (Sam Neil, enough said), political intrigue, action, sex, and tennis. Yes, they were playing tennis back then. Right inside the palace. Wonderful show.

I just received the movie Doubt in the mail. Perhaps I'll get to it today.

I'm tired of being a spokesman for every tired thing

These days have been hard. It's not just my car; I wish it was it was only that. It's been hard, unbearable at times, so much so that at times, just to maintain, I've had to summon all sorts of will to stay focused in the moment, to not let despair have it's way. I feel like I'm about to die almost all of the time, which I can mostly attribute to my car feeling terribly unsafe at the moment (Visions of my tires collapsing, car swerving into other cars, breaking glass, crushing metal, screams, horror, dismemberment!). I am about to die, at least in the metaphoric sense. May have already. Life is change. This could be good. Or bad. We'll see.

What's important is that I at least make an effort to institute some kind of positive change. My life is not what I want it to be. I can make it better. I believe I will. Can you tell I'm working on my affirmations?

I'm rambling, aren't I? Perhaps not, but I feel like I am. I should end this. Before I do, let me tell you how fucked it is listening to Christmas music all day long when I'm going through this nonsense. Oh, really, it's the most wonderful time of year? Thanks for rubbing it in, Slick. What's worse than all that cheer is hearing so much of it. All day, everyday. Even some of my favorite songs I wouldn't want to hear four times a day. During the fourth -- yes, that's right, fourth -- pass of Feliz Navidad today, I said the following to Sharon:

"You know, at Abu Grahib, when the prisoners were being routinely tortured, one thing the guards would do was blast the same crappy music over and over every night. Problem was, the prisoners actually got into a lot of the music. The guards played hard rock, prisoners loved it; they played rap, prisoners loved it, they played oldies, prisoners loved it. What finally got to them was contemporary country. Made them go nuts. I think I know a little something of what that must have been like."

She laughed. " I don't mind if you change the station."

I told her I was trying to be a good soldier and put up with it; there are others in the office who just adore the music, no matter how redundant it gets. I'm not sure I'll make it to Christmas; I may end up judo chopping the radio with my face.

Time for a spiritual renaissance.

Rocking the Paradise

There looks to be a microscopic break in the clouds, I hope it widens. I need it to, I really, really do.

Anyway, here's the link to my new blog. Hope you enjoy it.

It's the most wonderful time of the year

My week was a disaster. After dropping money on my car on Wednesday, my ride to work the following day was marred by the recurrence of the same problem. Yes, my engine light went on again as my car struggled to accelerate. Wonderful.

For the reasons of not wanting to miss anymore work, having lost faith in my mechanic, and the fact that I was nearing Andover, I took my car to Sam's garage. Another day was spent in anxious anticipation, wondering what the damage would be. Sam called me in the afternoon and told me I needed a coil replaced and another spark plug. With labor, it would run me about $250.00. I told him to go ahead and do it.

I picked my car up after work and, guess what? Same fucking problem occurred on my way to work the following day. Oh, good. Took my car to Sam again, this time fucking pissed. He and his mechanic told me the steps that were taken to fix my car, beginning with my mechanic in Somerville were necessary. This time he put fuel injector cleaner in it, and told me that if that didn't work, to get a new car. "I'm telling you this as a friend", he said. So I dropped a ton of my into my car for it to come to that. Unbelievable.

I was already stressed out, especially after talking with my parents the night before. They didn't stress me out, but talking with them brought all my problems to the forefront. I can't remember feeling so helpless, so defeated. Other events occurred that added to my misery, but I don't want to get into them. Basically, I'm fucked in many ways and can't see a way out.

I was so spent on Friday, that I felt like going to bed the minute I came home. Somehow, Mara convinced me to attend this fucked up crafting event in Davis Sq. we were both invited to by separate people. I had a good time and for a few hours forgot about my troubles.

Foley was there, and he was pretty lit. I hung out with him for most of the night. We cheered Leesa on as she played her set and had some beers. It was funny seeing worlds collide. My friends on one side, and Mara's on the other. I don't think Mara likes Foley very much, mostly I think because their only interactions have been when Foley was drunk. It was funny watching them interact. At one point, Foley said to me, "I wasn't sure before, but now I'm positive she's not the one for you." I told him it was a moot, but apt, point since we're not a couple anymore.

I think she finds some of my friends too boisterous. I don't, but that's why they're my friends. She definitely didn't know what to make of Leesa, though they have friends in common. It's okay, some of her friends are a little too square for my tastes. Regardless, it was a fun night. There was crafting, live music, a gangsta rap video about crafting, beer, dancing, and more crafting. This is why I like living in the city.

Maybe later today, I'm going to post a link for the new blog. Hope you enjoy it.

Oh, the weather outside is frightful

Late morning, I walked to the garage to pick up my car. More than once the wind nearly blew me off my feet. I had a tiny umbrella for protection and the weather abused it so much I thought it was a goner. It remained intact.

My car. Among its numerous issues, one of them was getting worse by the day. My engine had taken up the practice of misfiring, at first only up steep hills, then when it rained, and finally all the time. On my way up to Nashua yesterday, my car barely made it up a hill and the engine light went on. And stayed on. At the registry, I called Marcy and told her I'd be heading back to Somerville, provided my car made the trip, and was going to drop it off at the garage I go to. My reasoning was sound: I would drop the car off - by that time it would be late afternoon- and the mechanic could look at it then or in the morning. Either way, my plan was to pick up the car and head to work after the snow had done its thing. And that's what I did. Oh, like I suspected, I needed new spark plugs, plus filters. A cool $350.00. For those of you keeping track, that's $450.00 in less than a week. And I'm not done yet. No, sir. There's always more. Hopefully not for a while. Ah, but I still have affection for the old girl.
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Last night Foley stopped by with some rum and eggnog and helped decorate the tree. I'm pretty sure he was tipsy when he showed up (don't worry, he didn't drive; he live a couple of blocks away). We had fun. Rich even joined in the festivities. He even got to do the thing most dear to him in the whole wide world: weather proof the windows with plastic.

Once we were finished with the tree, two things were apparent to me: 1. Foley was beyond tipsy and 2. Foley wanted him some Janelle. No doubt in my mind about the latter. The signs were there in full bloom. The thing I'm not so sure about is whether he's about to do the ol' full court press when it comes to vying for her affection. Is he over his current crush now that she's made it evident that she's not interested? I don't know. It all remains to be seen. He's in love with love. That much I know. And in this age of disillusionment, that's not necessarily such a bad thing.

The best, and creepiest, part of the evening was discovering Janelle's Santa ornament. I've never seen anything like it. It's rubber, with bendable parts; skinny, bordering on anorexic; face blood red, including the beard and most of its head; and the coup de grace: beady eyes, black as the day is long. I've never seen a more Satanic rendering of anything in my life. Janelle placed it atop the tree. Our star, it is. And fucking evil. I can't stop thinking about the little demon.

The new blog is set up. Putting the final touches on the first entry. Maybe a day or two longer. I know, I know: you're absolutely dying to lay your eyes on it. Patience, dear readers, patience.

On that note, going to watch another episode of a show I'm not sure I like very much, but one I can't seem to stop watching: Californication. Mara had it right when she said watching the show was like eating candy. True dat.

Movies on the horizon:

1. Knife In the Water

2. Barry Lydon

3. Let The Right One In

4. Land Of Silence And Darkness

5. Dog Day Afternoon

6. Point Blank

7. College

8. La Vie En Rose

9. Point Blank

10. Half Nelson

And these are just the ones on Netflix Watch Instantly. I better start watching some movies or....or I don't know what will happen. Probably nothing.
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I'm just a station on your way, I know I'm not your lover

Today flew by. I had plenty to do and didn't stop working until quitting time. I was so busy that I never got around to changing the radio station from the Christmas music we've been hearing non stop since Thanksgiving to ....well, anything would have sufficed. Sharon and I have both expressed our desire to hear substantially less Christmas music, but haven't pressed the issue because we know Therese really enjoys listening to it. And, for the record, I don't mind it so much, except that we hear the same songs at least three times a day. I don't know about you, but hearing anything fifteen times a week can get a bit redundant. But when it's the likes of The Chipmunks spreading the holiday cheer, it's downright agonizing. One thing is for sure: this will not go on much longer. We'll be listening to The River soon enough. Bring on The Spin Doctors!

My dad saw the dog again and called its owners. He got in touch with someone who turned out to be a friend of the theirs. He was told they've been flooded with calls from all over town, which may explain why they never called me back. Apparently, this dog hasn't been easy to catch. Seems he likes his independence. And why not? According to the woman my father spoke to, the dog is being fed twice a day by a family that lives a few streets away from my parents. Not only that, but the pooch has been courting a dog on another street. The only shitty aspect to his life is the fact that he chose to run away from home in November. Should have waited until Spring. But still, he's living the dream.

I've been lucking out with movies lately, particularly ones that have been beautifully shot. I've already expressed my admiration for The Gospel According To Saint Matthew. Last night I watched about half of Kobayashi's Kwaidan and was highly impressed. The film is a collection of centuries-old Japanese ghost stories and, man are they something to watch. Everything was shot on sets, which gives everything a dream-like feel. It's like the film was shot inside a painting. Kobayashi is my new favorite director. Samurai Rebellion was incredible and now this. Tonight, I watch the rest. I am about to embark on a Kobayashi film festival. Come join me.

Another film I saw was the Czech director, Jan Svankmajer's Alice, a bizarre take on Alice In Wonderland. It's filmed mostly with stop-motion animation and is pretty damn surreal. Worth checking out if you're looking for something different.

I finally finished watching Six Feet Under. What a ride it was! Sad, saying goodbye. Moving on, I watched a few episodes of Californication, a show that has been recommended to me by several people. As far as I can tell, the show is pretty much about David Duchovney's character, a washed up writer, fucking every single woman he comes in contact with, barring his daughter and ex -wife, though that's a sure bet down the road. It's just him fucking. Constantly. He's sitting in traffic. A hot blond pulls up beside him and throws a piece of paper with her name and phone number into his lap. Next scene: he's fucking her. I don't mind fucking, in fact I'd like to be doing more of it, but c'mon now, the show has to be about something more than that! Ah, but I give it too little credit. There is nuance, and the writing is crisp, and I am finding, with subsequent episodes, that there is more substance than I initially thought there would be.

Breaking news: I have a new blog in the works. I've called it Subterranean Hills and it will be a landing spot for stories, lyrics, poems, rants, you name it. Once I complete the first entry, I will post a link. Are you excited? Me, too.

Cigarettes, ice cream, figurines of the Virgin Mary

The weekend didn't begin well. On Friday, I noticed steam wafting up from my the hood of my car. I was in Nashua at the time and wondered if I'd make it back to Andover. I did, and took my car to Sam's for him to diagnose the problem. I figured I'd run out of transmission fluid or something like that. Nope, turns out I had not one, but two, leaks. The first was an oil leak, which he fixed for about a hundred dollars. The second was a transmission fluid leak, which he did not fix, thankfully, because it was a four hundred dollar job. "It's a slow leak", he said, "but you need to attend to it down the road." Well down the road, I thought. I'm not exactly raking in the bucks.

I watched The Gospel According To Saint Matthew later that night. Been wanting to see it for a couple of years. Who wouldn't want to see an Italian-Neo realist-homosexual-atheist-Marxist's take on Jesus? Despite what you may think, given that pedigree, Pasolini imbued the film with more passion, truth, and transcendence than most other films I've seen depicting Jesus. The cinematography is breathtaking! The soundtrack features Mozart and Beethoven and the spiritual "Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child" is peppered throughout the film. It's uncertain who sang it, sounded a little like Nina Simone, but whoever it was, pulled it off beautifully. If you have Netflix, you can see this movie on Watch Instantly.

Yesterday was ok, but frustrating on the whole. I got my car inspected earlier in the day, and from there I ventured down to Union Square to visit Spira and Janelle, who were exhibiting their wares, in the local craft fair. Took me about a half hour to get there. A shit load of traffic and a ton of lights were the culprits. The trip, ordinarily, should have taken about ten minutes.

Somehow, in the heart of Union Square, I managed to find a parking spot. About twenty feet away, there were tables and booths set up. Ah, this must be where the fair is, I thought. I took a look around -- no Spira and Janelle. Then I spied a sign stating more vendors were downstairs in The Precinct. Once downstairs, I snaked my way through the various rooms filled with people and still no sign of my friends. I asked a vendor if there was another craft fair going on. "No, this is it", he replied.

I called Janelle. She informed me she was on the other side of Union Square. I walked over and met up with her, Spira, and Foley, who had arrived there in a similar manner that I did. I hung out for a while and got back to my car before the meter ran out. It only took me twenty minutes to get home.

Got together with Mara later on. A frustrating experience that I don't want to get into. And, upon my arrival home, a couple of other frustrating experiences, one of which involved having no Internet.

You make the best of things, though. I've been trying to be more proactive in my life and, soon, I hope, my experiences will be more fruitful, carry more weight. Ahead, I see significant changes in the works. The old regime is crumbling, time to make way for the new.

I'm taking the time for a number of things, that weren't important yesterday

I still feel like I'm on the brink of a cold. If I am, it sure is taking its time about it. Achy flesh, fatigue, scratchy throat: I've had each of these symptoms, but at various intervals and barely felt. Hmmm.... maybe I just need to start taking vitamins.

I wept for about an hour straight last night while watching Six Feet Under. I already revealed plot points on Facebook and won't do so again here, lest I reveal too much to the uninitiated. Let's just say it was a sad, sad episode. I thought about it all day today. That, my friends, is what Art should do. I'm near the end of the series. I'll miss the show dearly.


Speaking of Facebook, what an odd thing it is to see people from different areas of your life appear in the same thread. What a melting pot. I love it! Here's a question: which website has had more of an impact: YouTube or Facebook. Too easy - don't even know why I posed the question - the answer, hands down, is Facebook. Maybe some of you feel differently. If so, share your thoughts. I'd love to hear them.

As concerns Baby Boy Z, Janelle and I dote over him in such a fashion you'd either think we were mad or hilarious or both if you witnessed it. Janelle started it and I followed suit. I'll expand on this in a future post. It deserves one of its own, I think.

Bought some chicken hearts at the market the other day. I asked Doug what to do with them. He suggested I add some salt and pepper and grill the little devils. Eat 'em like popcorn, he told me. I think I will.

On that note, I'm off to watch another episode -- might be the last one, not sure --and will probably weep some more.

Goodies for the table with a fable on the label

On my way to the Nashua registry I stopped, as I often do, to get some groceries at the Market Basket in Andover. I used to get off the highway and hit the one in Chelmsford, but this one is even more on the way. Because I needed a good amount of groceries, I was in the store longer than I intended, despite my efforts to be speedy. This meant I would be arriving in Nashua about fifteen minutes later than usual. Not a big deal --they never make me account for every minute I'm away from the office -- but, even though I don't plan on stopping this behavior, I don't want to take advantage too much.

I got on 495. Up ahead, the exit for Rte 3 was blocked. I drove past it, got off the highway in Chelmsford, picked up 495 in the opposite direction and attempted to pick up Rte 3 from there. That exit was blocked, too. I was forced to take the Lowell Connector and got off by the Cross Point building. I called work to let them know about the trouble I was having. Marcy checked online and discovered an accident had occurred near where I was. That was evident, judging by all the helicopters, police cars, and ambulances that were afoot.

While the situation was a grave one, I now had an alibi, if pressed, about the lost time. Didn't make me feel much better, though; my thoughts were with whoever was involved in the accident. I still don't know what happened. I managed to get onto Rte 3 from Drum Hill in Chelmsford. By the time I arrived in Nashua, I'd been on the road over an hour.
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Yesterday, I could barely hear out of my left ear. Been happening off and on over the last several months. Usually, as the day progresses, my hearing returns to normal, but not yesterday. In fact, my other ear started to clog up. By the end of the day, my head felt numb and like it weighed sixty pounds.

Still, I had a good time playing guitar with Craig last night. We played some Beatles songs, a sampling from Jesus Christ Superstar, and other stuff. We should do it more often.

My hearing is fine today; my head unclogged. Ahhh. That notwithstanding, I wasn't sure whether I was coming down with something. Beginning yesterday, I've felt like I've been on the brink of a cold. I'd been around enough sick people since Thanksgiving for it to be likely. Before leaving work today, I felt tired and achy, but I'm proud to report that after some yoga and a delicious salad for dinner, I feel hale and ready to fuck some shit up, son!

Off to watch some Six Feet Under (I'm in the final stretch), watch a little Celtics action, play some music, read some Sherlock Holmes. I better get started.