It's the true loves that make me want to cry, it's the true loves that make me want to say goodbye

The new year approaches as this one turns to dust, as everything within the scope of perception must, so let's get crackin' on these awards which, by all accounts, meaning my own, have been transcendent.

Favorite album

I heard a lot of great ones this year, but Rufus Wainwright's All Days Are Nights was my favorite. It was a total surprise when I came upon this album at the store. I hadn't realized he had a new one out, which is odd because he's one of the few artists whose actions, musically speaking, I pay close attention to. I grabbed the CD in rapid, almost nervous, fashion, as if it would flee from my grip the instant I made contact, never to return. I almost said "Keep the change" to the cashier as I checked out, so eager I was to listen to what I was confident was going to be in heavy rotation the next month or so.

Stripped down to just piano and vocals, All Days Are Nights is a beautiful, oft mournful and intimate, album. When people hear my music, they often compare it to Nick Drake or Elliot Smith, but hardly anyone ever mentions Rufus as being a likely influence of mine. Well, he's a big one and, ever since his debut, which blew my mind quite thoroughly, thank you very much, I've been a devotee. He has the best sense of melody since Harry Nilsson or Paul McCartney. He is the most accomplished songwriter of his generation. "True Loves", from the new album, is one of the best songs I've ever heard, but I only say that because it's playing right now. Almost every song of his is the best song I ever heard. Ok, Sonnet 43 is playing now, and I have to say it's one of the best songs I've ever heard. Seriously, and I'm not afraid to admit this, tears have formed over how sublime this song is.

Runners up:

Maddy Prior and June Tabor - Silly Sisters. I love this album so much. These two titans of English folk are wondrous apart, but together.....Oh, my! "The Grey Funnel Line" is as sublime as any song by Rufus.

Dick Gaughan - Live In Edinburgh. I had never heard of him before until Mara gave me this CD. An incredible performance, full of passion, great singing, and guitar playing. I hear he was a Communist, which makes sense given the scattering of worker songs throughout. I may just convert - he really sold it. "Now Westlin Winds" , is beautifully rendered.

Fairport Convention - Full House. As you can see, I've been listening to a lot of from Great Britain (Mr. Gaughan is a Scot). You know why? Because I like it, that's why! Full House is the first Fairport album after Sandy Denny's departure, which is the equivalent of Robert Plant leaving Led Zeppelin (In fact Sandy was the only guest vocalist the band ever had on their albums). As a result, the album is more muscular and punchy. Dave Swarbrick sings more, along with Richard Thompson, and everyone brings the ruckus. As much as I love Sandy Denny's vocals, this is probably my favorite album by them. I think I sang along to "Sir Patrick Spense" around two hundred times over the last month or two.

Richard & Linda Thompson - Ok, one more trip to England. I've been listening to just about everything they released for awhile now and I can't believe it's taken me this long to dive into their output.

Sufjan Stevens - The Age of AdZ. He really stepped up his game with this one. Symphonic, electronic, organic, and epic, this is a fine piece of work.

Deer Hoof - It took me a few years to come back around to them, but come around I did. I hear Can, Captain Beefheart, The Ramones, Frank Zappa, The Beach Boys, in their music. Mostly, though, I hear Deerhoof, and, what can I say, I love 'em.

Bob Dylan - Desire. This could be my favorite Dylan record. I love everything about it, from the reverb -soaked drums to the short story-length lyrics. I love his singing on this - his duets with Emmylou Harris are as good as you're going to hear.

Here's the deal: I could keep going with this runners up list, so I'm going to call it quits and go watch John From Cincinnati. It's possible I may catch up on some 30 Rock, too. See you next time for some more awards. Yippppeeeeee!!

Best Show

You must remember this, a kiss is still a kiss

I woke up around two thirty this morning to the dim sight of Baby Boy Z hovering over me, staring intently. Surprisingly, I wasn't startled. I muttered a half-formed question concerning why he was being a weirdo. He bent close, licked my face, and lay back down to sleep. Oh, Pooch Edward, you so craz-aaay!

Alright, let's dole out some awards since it's that time of year. I was thinking of what to call said awards and concluded after giving it minimal thought that they'll be called The Spideys. Lame, huh? You bet, but I couldn't think of anything better, which tells you all you need to know about me.

Let's begin.


The "Summertime And The Living Is (Not So) Easy" award

While everyone else was vacationing in the Hamptons or frolicking on the beach somewhere, I was a regular at my dentist's office this summer. I haven't figured out how many appointments I had, but there were a lot. Bridge work, fillings, root canals, you name it: I had the full dental experience.

"Best Movie Experience" award

I saw a lot of great films this year, but the best was Kobayashi's Human Condition trilogy. This sprawling account of a pacifist's experience as a soldier in World War II era Japan floored me. It stuck with me long after I took the disc out of the player. You want epic? This is epic, son. This nine hour film is easily one of the best I've ever seen. On, and every Kobayashi film I saw this year absolutely rocked my world. So there.

Runners up:

My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done - Herzog at his best. Looooovveed this movie.

The White Ribbon - A quiet, beautifully filmed, account of evil bubbling to the surface in a small village. Haunting.

Army of Shadows - Melville's gripping tale of the French Resistance in Nazi-occupied France. I didn't expect I'd like it as much as I did, but it was rad. That's right, I said rad.

Inception - I'll be honest with you, I saw this movie three times over the summer and I'm still not completely sure how I feel about it. That's the point, I guess. It's layered beyond measure and begs for repeat viewings. Oh, and DeCaprio rocks in this.

Come And See - Very intense, poetic, brutal, anti war film. Most war films glorify war to some degree, but this one does not. No, sir, it does. We follow a young boy through Russia as he witnesses the carnage of the Nazi's (Again with the Nazi's. Guess I was into Nazi films this year)

"Worst Movie Experience"

The Blind Side. Holy shit, did I hate this movie. I kept hearing how amazing it was. I gave it a chance and could barely sit through it. I ended up fast forwarding a bunch near the end. I've seen way better made-for-TV movies. And Sandra Bullock won an Oscar for her role in this? Look, I'm not a big fan of award shows (except mine, of course) because it's all subjective. Who's to say what's best? With that said, I think it's a travesty that she won an Oscar. Her role was so awkward and annoying. An Oscar? Really? I think she's a fine actress, but c'mon. Anyway, The Blindside sucked.

Summertime And The Living Is (Not So) Easy, Part II" award

In the middle of July, I was inflicted with a stomach bug that really, really stunk. I was out of commission for days and needed a week to recuperate. I never get sick in the summer. Well, I put an end to that trend, didn't I?

"Did Dexter Jump The Shark?" award

This season of Dexter was pretty good. It didn't stink, but it wasn't nearly as gripping as past seasons. After watching the finale, I was left feeling a bit unsatisfied. Oh, well, there's always next season.

"Best Sports Event" award

This one is a tie between the Celtics performance in the playoffs (sadly, they fell to the Lakers in a gripping game seven of the finals) and the World Cup. For a period, I'd come home every night to a Celtics game or a soccer match. It was great, I tell ya! And those vuvuzelas? Love them! Janelle and I were nearly ostracized from our circle of friends for finding them appealing, but we stuck to our guns.

Runner up: The Bruins playoff run. They blew a three game lead to the Flyers, which was as close to an unpardonable sin as you're going to get, but they still had some fine games. Ah, there's always this year.

Ok, I'm done for now. Stay tuned for some more awards in my next post.

Looking for a lover to court and spark

Had a long weekend, but it wasn't as relaxing as I would have preferred. Sunday, the blizzard that, according to the local meteorologists, was going to rip our souls limb from limb, asserted itself mid afternoon. I was dressed down, fooling around on the new computer with Pooch Edward Bottoms by my side. I looked out the window - it was becoming nasty outside. I took comfort in the knowledge that I was in for the day. The feeling didn't last long.

I received back to back texts from Spira and Mara alerting me to the city's parking ban, which stated that all vehicles needed to be parked on the side of the street that had odd numbered houses. After a burst of panic, I realized my car was positioned in a safe place and I had nothing to worry about. But then I remembered that Aviv and Janelle, living it up in Israel, had left their cars behind. If I didn't move them, they were going to be ticketed and then towed. There was nothing for it but to get dressed and move their cars.

Not an easy task. First of all, it was late afternoon by this point and everyone had moved their cars already. Finding spots for two cars was not going to be a cake walk. And then I discovered that their cars were standards. I hadn't driven stick since my early twenties; what better time to get a refresher course than in the middle of a blizzard, driving around city streets searching for parking.

I cleaned off Aviv's car and searched for parking while I stalled out a couple of times and got beeped at by panicky motorists also ostensibly looking for spots. Spira had told me I could park at the school by my house, but the gates were closed. I finally found a spot about a half mile away. I quickly parked and jogged back to the house. Time was of the essence. They were about to start ticketing and the roads, already slick, were rapidly becoming worse.

I cleaned off Janelle's car and drove around for the second time. I wasn't thrilled at the position I was in, but there was nothing else I could do. I finally found a spot after driving around for what seemed like forever. I walked back to the house with a feeling of relief that was outweighed by the stress of what I had just gone through.

Monday. In the morning, I took Pooch Edward for a walk to the cars to see how they fared. Each was buried, like every other car, by the force of the blizzard. During the walk, I lost a new pair of gloves that my boss had gotten me. You win some and you lose some. For example, I was given a nice Christmas present by the city on Christmas Eve: a shiny new $100.00 parking ticket for parking near a fire hydrant that everyone parks by. In keeping with the holidays (I got a parking ticket on Thanksgiving, too ), I'm hoping to round out the trilogy and get a whopping ticket on New Years Eve. Here's hoping. Anyway, I digress.

Later in the day on Monday, I shoveled out my car and cleaned it off. Then I took a walk with shovel and snow brush and did the same to Janelle's and Aviv's cars. I had the foresight earlier, while I was cleaning my car, to back it up a bit so that it occupied two spaces. My plan was to move Aviv's car behind mine after I moved it back into its spot. See, he doesn't have a permit, so his car needs to be moved every forty eight hours or he'll get a ticket. So, I moved his car behind mine, but I'll have to move it again. I think it's fair to say they owe me big for all this.

When I finished with the parking, I went inside and prepared my dinner. I put Pooch Edward out in the yard. When I went to retrieve him, he was standing in the driveway, pissing on Janelle's junk car. Hmm... must have left the gate open, I thought.

Same scenario tonight. I'm making dinner, Z's out in the yard. All of a sudden I hear him barking, which is something he loves to do when he's out in the yard. Hate to say it, but he becomes a bit of a prick, terrorizing passers by. Anyway, I hear him barking and when I look out the window, I see that he's barking at a girl walking by and he's eye level with her. It took me a minute to realize that he was standing on a snow bank that reached the height of the fence. Needless to say, he scared the shit out of this poor girl. He looked ready to pounce on her before I banged on the window and got his attention. I went out in the yard and got him. So that's how he got out yesterday. Not his fault and kind of funny. Guess I have some more shoveling ahead of me.
--
My neighbor, Steve, who is deeply obsessed with snow removal, was in his element throughout the course of the storm and it's aftermath. By my count, he was outside either shoveling or using the snow blower almost the entire night Sunday and all day yesterday. I am not exaggerating. All fricken' day! Not my idea of a fun time, but to each his own.

And with that, I'm done with this post. It's the end of the year and you know what that means: my annual year end awards. I was going to start the proceedings here, but it'll have to wait to my next post. Now you have something to look forward to.

Tiny hoofies bend, oh bend bonny

My long, protracted battle with my computer saw its end last week. Most certainly, the victor was not me. No, my computer, or rather the enemy host that infected it, finally made it so that my ability to use it became virtually impossible. I'll spare you the details of the insidious ways in which it accomplished this. I fought tooth and nail to the end, spent a lot of time being surgeon, but I couldn't stem the tide.

Janelle and Aviv left for Israel the other day. In her absence, Janelle graciously offered me the use of her computer. Up until yesterday, Christmas day, I took her up on her offer. I had partly expected and hoped that the gods of Christmas, who we've diluted into the image of Santa Claus, but in this instance I'm referring to my parents, would assess my hardship and take appropriate, logical, measures. In other words, come to my rescue.

They did, thank goodness, and I when I came home last night, I immediately set about dismantling the old, ravaged, computer, and installed the new one. My parents saved the day, something they've done for me in countless ways my entire life. I am grateful.

I'm loving the new computer, with its ease of use and much bigger monitor. I downloaded iTunes and have been ripping CD's onto it. Listening to Deerhoof as I type.

Christmas was fulfilling. I did the bulk of my shopping on Thursday and felt satisfied that I picked out thoughtful, appropriate, gifts. When I showed up at my parent's house in the morning, it was with confidence that my relatives would appreciate their gifts. They did. Score one for the K Man!

The gift that went over the best was the toy cell phone I got for my five year old niece, Colleen. I knew my sister and brother in law were getting cell phones for her older sisters and I didn't want her to feel left out. Plus, Colleen is a chatterbox, so I figured she'd get some use out of a phone.

From my parent's house, we went to my grandmother's , where we met up with my aunt and uncle and cousins. Sitting in the living room, I reminisced about past Christmases I had spent there (All of them, in fact. Since I was born, a Christmas has not gone by that I didn't spend there). Lots of kids around; for a while it was just adults, but then there was a boom of children. I'm not complaining; they're fun to be around.

Today the snow will hit. A big storm, I hear. I'm glad I don't have to work tomorrow. It's just me and Pooch Edward Bottoms. Which reminds me, I should go see what he's up to. Don't want him to get lonely. I'll be watching Red Beard at some point. Late last night I watched the Harry Nilsson biography on the computer. It was awesome, as I expected it would be. One of the best songwriters that ever lived. And his voice? If I could sing half as good as him, I'd be in good shape.

Ok, bye.

Well, I hope that someday buddy, we have peace in our lives, together or apart, alone, or with our wives

Christmas fast approaches. Are you ready, those of you who partake? Have you bought and wrapped all of the gifts you'll be handing out? Are you counting down the days to Saturday with ease and comfort, satisfied the grunt work is behind you and all you need focus on are the good times you hope you'll have? As for me, procrastination is in my blood as much as anything else. I expect I'll be shopping right up until Christmas. Maybe not, though. There are still a few days left and it's conceivable I might overachieve and have all my shopping done with a couple of days to spare. We'll see.
--

Years ago, I worked at a tool wholesaler warehouse in Lowell in a dilapidated building. This place occupied the lower depths of existence. I stayed there too long, but I came out the other end of my experience there with some pretty good stories. Almost every person I worked with was memorable, for better or worse. The job was shitty overall, but the host of characters I was exposed to made it worth it. As time goes by, with my work experience having become more ordered and civilized, I look back upon those days more fondly than I ever thought I would.

Here's one story among many. It will give you an indication of what I was dealing with at this job. One day, my boss Thom came over to me and told me John, my coworker, wasn't coming in to work. He looked distressed, so I asked him if everything was alright.

"I just got off the phone with John's father. John was in a terrible car accident this morning and is fighting for his life as we speak."

I studied Thom's face. He was a notorious liar and was not above lying about something as awful as this. Still, he looked sincere. I found it hard to believe that he would joke around about something like this. But then again, maybe he would. I asked him if he was joking with me.

"I'm as serious as a heart attack!", he said. "Do you think I'd joke about something like this?"

"I do. Just two weeks ago, you told a sales rep that Nick died in a car accident (Nick was at lunch when the rep came by. I was there when Thom told her, in all seriousness, that Nick crashed into a Hostess truck. Nick was overweight and the joke, as poor as it was, would have been evident if Thom hadn't affected such a grave countenance. The rep, a kind woman in her thirties, had been friendly with Nick and was visibly shaken by the news. I waited for Thom to tell her the truth. He never did. She left, muttering something about wishing she'd known so she could have attended the funeral).

"Oh, I was just fucking around; she knew it was a joke."

"No she didn't."

Thom got in my face and said loudly, "I'm being serious. John's probably not going to make it." His eyes welled up with tears, but I was still uncertain whether he was being truthful. I was about eighty percent sure he was lying. Aside from Thom's incriminating history of pulling morbid pranks, it seemed odd to me that while John was fighting for his life, his father decides he better call his son's boss and let him know what was going on. I questioned Thom about this and he became furious.

"Look, you can believe what you want, but this boy is in bad shape and I'm worried about him. Don't ask me again if I'm lying!"

If Thom was lying, he was certainly putting his all into the ruse. For the next hour or so, I began to believe that Thom had told the truth about John. I was still doubtful, but I had done what I could to get Thom to break and he never budged. I began to worry over my fallen coworker. I thought about the fragility of life.

It was deep in this reverie when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw John appear. My feelings were conflicted. On the one hand, I felt great relief that my friend was in good health and on the other I wanted to strangle Thom. I let him know how pissed off I was at him, how twisted he must be to think that his practical joke was even slightly humorous. He laughed in the face of my outrage and suggested I lighten up a bit. It was then that I knew for sure that this kind, grandfatherly, figure, was a sociopath.

The end.

Ok, I'm off to work on some music and at some point I'll watch one of the segments from The Power of Myth. If you ever get a chance to, watch this fine series of interviews with Joseph Campbell conducted by Bill Moyers. If nothing else, it'll make you feel a wee bit smarter.

I'm the one, natural one

I don't watch the weather reports, but from what I was told by numerous people and from what I could see with my own eyes, the devastating snow storm we were supposed to be buried by, missed us. For most of the day, not a flake of snow was evident. Around one thirty, it started snowing, but only a little, as if it were an after thought. By the time I drove to the Registry of Deeds in Lawrence, which was around two thirty, the ground was covered and it looked like something substantial was in the works.

The drive was slow, but manageable. When I got back to work, the snow had abated. Marcy told me we were only supposed to get a dusting. Well, it's almost eight and the snow is coming down hard, son! I'm glad my commute home was prior to the mess that's out there now. Granted, it's not a blizzard, but what I see out there is not what was advertised. At least to me. Again, I don't watch the weather, so this could be exactly what was forecast for all I know.

I went for a run after work. I like running on snow, so it was a good run, despite the last few miles taking place in snow that was asserting itself mightily. After supper, I walked over to the laundromat through the wind and, you guessed it, snow. For the record, I dislike winter more and more every year. It's not so much the snow, but the overall bleakness. Someday I will move to warmer climes. I say that every winter.
--
Earlier today, I asked Therese where she was spending Christmas. Here's a sampling of her response, which took about ten minutes to complete. Actually, let's refrain from that. I couldn't bear reliving even a portion of her diatribe. Just know that she covered her job history, which I've heard many, many times, and I'm willing to bet I could draft a resume for her from memory. She also told me about her brother's leather jacket that she still owns after all these years and her husband wears occasionally, her dislike of her son's girlfriend, her husband's job, and a bunch of other stuff that had little bearing on the question in hand. I'm fond of Therese, but I wouldn't mind it if she took the direct route now and again.
--
This past Friday was Spira's first movie night at her place. She just bought a colossal HD TV and decided movie night was one way to put it to good use. We had a meal of left overs from her party the week before and we- and by we I mean Allie, Hian, Spira, and myself - watched Frosty, The Snowman, which just happened to be on, and It's A Wonderful Life, which Allie and I lobbied for. Spira and Hian had never seen it; we thought it was time they were exposed to this classic.

I hadn't seen Frosty in years and suspected it would feel dated. I was wrong - it held up well. Glad I saw it. And you know what else? I'm out of here. The phone is a-ringin' and I need to answer it. Aloha.

And two eyes made out of coal

If I hear another Christmas song on the radio, I think I might dunk my head in a bucket of burning pitch. At work, once Thanksgiving is through, the radio station in my office is changed to one that plays only Christmas music. I probably covered this before, but hearing the same music every day, multiple times a day, is maddening. Even if I was filled to the brim with joyous Christmas spirit, this incessant barrage of songs would puke it right out of me. A little goes a long way. Know what I'm saying? From what I gather, no one in the room likes it, but for whatever reason, no one will change the station. I'll get through it. I guess it's not so bad hearing Feliz Navidad or I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus at least three times a day. I guess.

Anyway, speaking of Christmas spirit, let's try to salvage some. I do believe I pledged in my last post to revisit the Christmas specials of my youth, so let's proceed. As I go, I will only relate what my memory allows; I will not cheat and use the Internet to refresh it where necessary. The following list, therefore, should not be seen as comprehensive - there may be omissions - nor will it be presented in order of preference. In other words, I'm winging it and we'll see how it fleshes out.

The Year Without A Santa Claus

I barely remember this special because some religious group got it banned from TV throughout most of my youth. If I remember correctly, said group took issue with Mr. Heatmiser. Guess they thought he was the Devil or something. Anyway, because it was unavailable, it became like the Holy Grail to us kids. We used to speak in fond reminiscence about it. I should watch it sometime. It's been years.

Frosty The Snowman

Ah, this was a good one. I haven't seen it since I was a kid, but I used to love it. Do I remember correctly that every time Frosty came to life he said, "Happy Birthday" in a kind of dopey voice? I think he did. And was that Fred Astaire who narrated the show? Wasn't he a mailman or an engineer? Anyway, this special touched me. I think I even cried during it, you know, when things looked bad for Frosty.

Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer

The gold standard. Man, those Rankin/Bass specials used to produce. An indication of how great they were is that they're still broadcasting them. By today's standards, the effects are primitive, but I'll take 'em over the sterile CG I see so much of these days. Back to Rudolph.

Great story, and even better for having The Abominable Snowman in it. And that Yukon Cornelius was damn cool, too. This was an adventure Homer would have been proud of. Tons of action peppered with humor and romance. And the Christmas spirit shined down on the whole thing. This one is the best of the best.

Santa Claus Is Coming To Town

Put one foot in front of the other, and soon you'll be walking out that door. This was one of my favorites. I've probably seen this one more than any other. The Burgermeister Meister Burger was a great character. So was the Winter Warlock. And that penguin.....I forget his name. Rankin/Bass brought the ruckus once again. Wait a minute. Was this the one with Fred Astaire as the mailman or engineer or whatever? Hmmm... I should know, I just watched this when it was on a couple of weeks ago. Anyway, like I said, this was one of my favorites.

Twas The Night Before Christmas

I used to like this one quite a bit, even though it was animated and not produced by Rankin/Bass. I remember it centered on a family of mice and one of the kids, a really nerdy sort, screwed up the clock (?)- my memory is hazier than it should be with this- and, as a result, Santa Claus wouldn't be able to come. I remember liking at least one of the songs. Fivel(sp)? Was that his name? Oh, I don't know. Let's move on.

Charlie Brown's Christmas

Was that even what it was called? Anyway, I'm close, whatever it is. Another classic with a hip jazzy score. One of the songs, with the chorus of kids singing, always effects me in a deep place. I always seem to miss this one when it's on; this year, I caught the very end. At least I got to see the sorry little tree.

Ok, my computer is being a pain and running too slow. With that, I'll have to finish this up before things get FUBAR.

Find a place to call my own, and try to fix up, start a brand new day

While it won't go down as one of my most epochal, the weekend went well. Spira's Christmas party was on Saturday. Lots of good food - most everyone made a dish - and there was some alcohol flowing. Not all of it down my gullet, mind you, but I imbibed enough to make me more charming and dynamic. Alas, not enough to get me laid, but at least once a woman brushed my shoulder as she walked by. I vowed never to wash that shoulder ever again. And I won't.

Mary was there. We don't hang out as much these days, but it was gratifying seeing her. Mary is Foley's sister and we've known each other for a long time and have always had an easy way between us. Foley had wanted to pair us up back in the day, but for whatever reason it never happened. When Mary left the party, Pam came over to me and said, "I think she really likes you". I explained that Mary is happily married, but Pam held to her observation. "Even still, I think she really likes you." I'm not sure Pam had it right, but even if she did, what then? Best not dwell on it.

Spira did a great job with the party. I like seeing her happy and happy she was. And Missy the dog looked adorable (Is it allowed for a pure-hearted, masculine, heterosexual male to use the word adorable in any context? Hmmm....). She received plenty of attention in her poofy green, bell-bedecked, collar thingy (I know there's a name for it, but I'm too dull-witted presently to conjure it). If only Baby Boy Z was there in the smoking jacket I often picture him wearing. He would have been the belle of the ball instead of me.

Craig and Karen crashed at our place after the party. Karen was a little worse for wear and needed to be helped on to the futon. Craig and I stayed up talking until four thirty. I fell asleep immediately upon hitting the bed. I woke up around eleven thirty pleased that everyone was still around. Janelle made a delicious omelet for breakfast. Nice having a full house.

In one of our conversations, Craig said something to the effect of having had more of a religious experience staring at the Sun through the trees in the woods behind his house than he ever did going to church as a youth. Good stuff. I don't think Craig has studied Taoism much, but he summed it up pretty well.

And we've got to get ourselves back to the garden.
--
Over time, I have been left with little or no Christmas spirit. It happens, I know, as one gets older, but I think it's too bad. When I was growing up, the Christmas season was a sacred time. I used to start getting geared up for it well before Thanksgiving. I'd scour the television for anything Christmas related. This was not such a simple task in early November, but I always found enough to get me excited. For whatever reason, "Yogi Bear's First Christmas" would be one of the first shows to air. It wasn't one of my favorites, but it holds a special place because of the function it served: like a robin sighting marks the first sign of spring, this program started the Christmas season off.

I'm of a mind to revisit the Christmas specials of my youth, but I've got other things I want to do. Maybe in my next post. Yes, my next post. See you then.

How can I go forward when I don't know which way I'm facing

I am tired. I went for a run after work in the frigid air and darkness. I was appropriately garbed, but it was an uncomfortable experience and I was pleased when it was through. On a side note: my calves hurt; they never do after a run. Oh, well, these things happen.

This will be a short post. I know I always say that and end up reneging on the claim, but this time I mean to be congruent. It's getting late and I've matters to attend to, most of which would bore the life right out of you. For one thing, there's some pending Bigfoot footage being uploaded tonight that I want to see. It'll be in Hi-def, so whatever it is will be vividly rendered. And I want to work on some music, read from Billy Budd (my re-read of Jordan's Wheel of Time series has been put on hold), and watch some Deadwood. I love this show so much, I would kill my parents if it told me to. Seriously, I would.

John Lennon died thirty years ago today. He preached peace, unity, and love, only to be assassinated for it. They do it to them all-Jesus, Gandhi, MLK- because the potency of their message cannot be tolerated in a world governed by violence. Who since Lennon has fervently preached peace as not just a concept, but something achievable? We consider ourselves advanced, but we're still up to the same bullshit in this world. Violence begets violence; division begets division. Let's give peace a chance.

Oh, I was supposed to be brief with this post. Alright, I'm out of here.

Five to one, one in five, no one here gets out alive

I am like Lazarus risen. Perhaps that is a little strong; rather, just these last couple of hours, I've been feeling better, at least in the physical sense. And maybe, too, in the spiritual sense, though I suspect that affliction may take a bit longer to heal, if it does at all. One thing at a time. The cold I caught last week that, up until today, seemed to be gaining steam in breaking me down, has loosened its hold on me. Whether I'm out of the woods, I'm not sure, but I do feel better, and at this stage, when not much has felt good to me, I'll take any reason to celebrate, no matter how small.

I'm going to make this post short. I'm in the process of determining how I should approach this blog henceforth. On the one hand, it has served as a vehicle, when necessary, to vent whatever it is I've kept to myself that needs to get out lest I blow. In this regard, the blog has served as an elixir when no other has been found or offered. On the other hand, there are my readers to consider, some of whom are friends, current and former. While this is my house you are entering when you read this blog, and if you disagree with the way in which I conduct myself herein, you can step back outside, hopefully with the understanding that you weren't coerced into entering in the first place, I do feel, on occasion that I'm showing my hand too often to some that would rather I didn't at all (There is also the opposite to consider, that people love watching a train wreck and mine offer the right sustenance, i.e. keep 'em coming, kid, and don't spare a single detail in these accounts of your decline).

In other words, I'm making things known that I'd be better served keeping close to the vest. After learning the hard way not to expect too much from my friendships, particularly the close ones, I've been in the practice of keeping my mouth shut when it comes to personal issues. The question is, should I extend that policy to my blog? I don't know, and I'm not even sure I have should have this policy of withholding in place at all. Ideally, I would prefer open dialog between myself and certain others, enough so that I didn't feel I was being a burden. I don't say this with any venom, but I do with some regret and frustration. Things turn out how they turn out and I've adjusted, am adjusting. There are several factors involved that have caused this outcome; this is not an indictment of my friendships, only a lament that things couldn't be different.

This professed short post has found it's legs. Better I hobble it before it gets ahead of me. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, this has been one of the hardest times of my life. A confluence of shitty things has been visited upon my sorry ass and it's been taxing. My dark night of the soul? I feel as if I've a few already, but if I had to pick one, this would be it. Dark days, like a bitter cold, have penetrated through my layers all the way to my spirit. Ah, but as I said above, I've been feeling a bit more hale and that is a good step on the staircase of getting right.
--

It hasn't been all terrible. It never truly is, I suppose. There has been the wonderful Deadwood on DVD to keep me company. The best written show I've ever seen. There has been Melville's Billy Budd, which just for the language alone, has been a treat, despite its tangential nature. There has been an increased intimacy and evolution regarding my music. There was Mara's brunch yesterday, which turned out differently, and perhaps better, than I anticipated.

Being as just about everyone she invited didn't show up for one reason or another, it was a cozy affair between Mara, her friend Dave, and myself. Dave is an older gent who, in his capacity as a DJ at a college radio station, has been a luminary in the local folk scene for decades. Mara used to work with him and, consequently, ended up with boxes of cds that she's had no use for. She brought them out yesterday for Dave and me to peruse. I found a Richard and Linda Thompson cd I'd been wanting and a few others. The rest that I took with me were recommendations by Dave and Mara.

I haven't listened to most of the cd's yet. There have been three I've had in heavy rotation. One by Archie Fisher, another by Dick Gaughan, and the third by the french traditionalist, Gabriel Yaub. Quality stuff and quite educational. The Dick Gaughan cd is a live one recorded in Edinburgh and the performance, just voice and guitar, is flawless. And this cat ain't strumming chords like Pete Seeger, no he's doing some complex stuff under those vocals. And the vocals - the phrasing and every other aspect - is so well done. These assessments hold true for each artist and it's why I've found listening to them educational. Beautiful stuff, the folk traditions of Europe.

So not all sour, but I'm crossing my fingers. At the end of the day, I don't want the doldrums to get the better of me. I want to rebound and start enjoying my life, an act, I say with sadness, I've more and more begun seeing as something as impossible as giving birth to a baby. Ah, but I've got some fight in me and if I'm to fall, it won't be done whimpering.

Leigh, I want to thank you for your kind words and support. I read them when I felt at my lowest and they perked me up. You are a sweet one and served as an angel on my shoulder.

Ha!

Just came across this from The Onion. The Universe has a great sense of humor, me thinks. Okay, you got me. I'll lighten up.

Universe Admits To Wronging Area Man His Entire Life

'Dave's Got A Right To Be Angry,' Says Cosmos

MINNEAPOLIS—Following decades of allegations from the 44-year-old data processor, the vast conglomeration of all matter and energy known as the universe admitted Tuesday that it was directly responsible for every single hardship in the life of Dave Schwartz, and apologized for continually foiling him at every turn.

The cosmos admits it could have given Schwartz good organizational skills but deliberately chose not to.

"Dave has good reason to say the universe is conspiring against him, because, well, it is," said the cosmos, acknowledging that it has thwarted Schwartz's hopes and dreams from the moment of his conception. "He may sound melodramatic when he goes on and on about the whole world having turned against him, but he's actually not that far off. The forces of time and nature genuinely want him to fail at life, and fail hard."

"So, yes, his anger and frustration are totally understandable," the universe added. "Pointless and futile, but totally understandable."

Sources close to Schwartz have long speculated that his failure to find success in work, love, and life stemmed from his own poor decisions and lack of resolve, but the very source of all causality verified Tuesday that, just as Schwartz has always claimed, the blame for each misstep and unfortunate circumstance rests squarely on the cosmos's shoulders.

Using the metaphysical concepts of blind chance and cosmic predetermination, as well as other powers beyond human comprehension, the universe claimed to have "done its best" to increase the earthly burden on Schwartz, carefully engineering everything from his difficulty concentrating for more than five minutes, to his receding hairline, to the time he threw up on the playground after eating a whole bag of candy.

"We've pretty much been riding Dave's ass from day one," confirmed the eternal concept of fate, which Schwartz has specifically, and accurately, blamed over the years for his inability to find a decent parking spot anywhere, ever. "Like that time he was dating the perfect woman and we introduced him to Deborah, who lured him away from the love of his life and proceeded to make his next two years a psychosexual nightmare of neediness and betrayal. That was all us."

"Oh, yeah, and then we rigged it so she dumped him," added fate, chuckling. "By the way, Deborah's doing great now. Rich husband, two beautiful kids, house on Martha's Vineyard—we set her up real nice."

According to the universe, it has for more than four decades enjoyed "torturing" Dave by presenting him with desirable life options—such as that big promotion at work, or the fantastic deal on that 1998 Mazda Miata—and then placing them just far enough out of his reach that they remain unattainable.

In addition, numerous ethereal essences and karmic forces stepped forward this week to come clean about "really piling it on" during periods of Schwartz's life when he already had enough on his plate and couldn't be expected to take much more cosmic punishment without snapping.

"Back in '02, we purposefully made enough things go right for Dave that he actually managed to convince himself that fate didn't exist and that the universe was a hopeful place full of limitless possibilities, all of which could be his as long as he believed in himself and maintained a positive outlook," the universe said. "Two days later—boom—we slam him with an IRS audit and some back pain."

"Totally threw him for a loop," added the whole of all existence. "He literally looked up at us and asked us, 'Why? Why are you doing this to me?'"

When questioned Tuesday as to the motive for its actions against Schwartz, the universe told reporters that it had no good answer except to speculate that perhaps its essential nature was simply "cruel and meaningless or something."

At press time, Dave Schwartz was stuck in a traffic jam with severe indigestion

I know there will be trouble when I'm too long feeling low

Matters run sweet, matters run sour. Often they run concurrently. I have been up to my neck in the sweet and sour since last week and I've favored one or the other so many times that I've reached the point of ambivalence. More or less. Even this stance is bound to change. The rhythm of life is change. Change, change, change.

It's been some time since I've posted. Some of you are alert to that fact, others I'm sure didn't notice my absence. It's okay - my ambivalence stretches far and I harbor no ill will. Indeed, I've taken a lengthier break than usual; partly due to being busy and partly because I just didn't feel like posting much.

There is much to recap, but I'm not going to deposit it all in this post. If I were to, it would likely take me all night, what with all the details I'd be sharing and the multitude of ways my computer has of slowing things down (This last paragraph took about fifteen minutes to type). With that in mind, I may not even be allowed by the powers that be to even finish the post. So fuck it, let's commence and see what happens.

THE SWEET

Last Wednesday night I stayed the night at Frank and Michelle's up in Amherst. We had finally found the appropriate time to have our oft-talked about Deadwood marathon. I had a great time with them. We ended up watching at least six episodes before the three of us started dozing off. They have two Golden Retrievers, Astro and Beckett, that I fell in love with immediately. Mandy, the dog of my youth, was a Golden. I am fond of the breed to be sure.

The next day, Thanksgiving, began at my parent's house. My grandmother, my sister and her family, and Spira were in attendance. Earlier in the week, I had invited Spira to dinner, suspecting, because her family lives out in Las Vegas, that she might not have a place to go. I suspected correctly - she didn't have a place to go and accepted my invitation.

It was great having her along. She's like one of the family. Over the years, she's been to various holiday gatherings, so this was nothing new. We had a nice meal and the occasion served as a good reminder how important family and friends are. We are social creatures; we need each other. It's why solitary confinement is considered a punishment.

From my parent's, we all went to my grandmother's house for dessert. My cousins and aunt and uncle met us there. It had been a few years since Spira had seen everyone and she was surprised at all the little kids running around. Some in my family have taken to breeding like rabbits. It happens.

A couple of nourishing days in a row. It was needed. So were the following days I had off, though they weren't quite relaxing. I spent as much time as I could assembling a set of songs to play at the show I was playing in Cambridge on Sunday. My plan was to play mostly new material and that meant I had to shore up a bunch of songs.

The show itself was a great experience for me. Foley's band, Slant of Light, had organized it for the release of their CD, and, besides me, another band, a duo called Low Static Romance, were on the bill. The Lily Pad, where we played, is ideal. It's basically just a room with benches and a bathroom. No bar, no tables, no noise. It's a place where people go to...I perish the thought... actually listen to music. A bizarre concept, but one that serves the musicians well.

I went on first, and you could hear a pin drop throughout my set. Because of the quiet, the respect being exhibited, I was able to immerse myself into my songs. The last couple of times I've played out kind of stunk, primarily because of all the noise and chatter which made it hard to hear what I was playing and because barely anyone was paying attention. So, yes, this gig was refreshing. I hope to play more like it.

THE SOUR

Beginning last week, my car began acting up. I'd be driving on the highway and it would begin to buck. At first, it did it only once in a while. But as with most problems, it didn't correct itself and became worse. Right in time for Thanksgiving! Yippeeee!! Fortunately, I was able to make it to Frank and Michelle's and then my parent's house. I even made it to my grandmother's house. When I was leaving there to go home, my dad told me he noticed my headlights weren't working.
Oh, wonderful. Even though I just had them fixed, they're out again. Not bad, not bad at all. So, now I had to take the car to the garage for two problems. Good thing my wallet is pregnant with cash.

Spira drove me home and took me back the next day. On my way home, the car bucked more than it ever had. I barely made it to the garage. I thought about how exquisite the timing was. Right during the holidays. Why, didn't the same very type of thing happen last holiday season, rendering me poorer than poor and unable to buy Christmas gifts? Indeed, it did. That very same type of thing. Well, nothing like starting a tradition, I say.

All of Friday was tied up with car business. I got off easy, however. Only thirty bucks for the headlights and the transmission fluid my mechanic added as a solution to the bucking. One thing I've learned is that, at least regarding my fortunes, nothing is easy. No, the universe had devious designs on me. I'm convinced of that, I regret to say.

Sure enough, on Monday morning, the car began bucking when I was on the highway on my way to work. And more than ever, I might add. From work, I went to the Registry in Cambridge to do some work and my plan was to take the car back to the garage and hopefully have the problem fixed before the day was through (I often finish work earlier when working in Cambridge). Well, that plan was shot to shit. I ended up stuck at the registry until almost five. I dropped the car off anyway with the hope that it would be fixed, and inexpensively, early today.

Not a chance. I didn't get a call all morning. Around eleven thirty, I called the garage and my mechanic said he was working on the car presently and would call me when he figured out what was going on. He never called. I called him around four thirty and he told me he still didn't know what the problem was and that he'd start back on it tomorrow and see if he could figure it out. In addition to the stress I've been going through for the last, I don't know, several days, as to how much this repair might run me, now I've got to take more time off from work and the problem might not even be diagnosed.

Good times, I tell ya. Oh, and the day before my gig, I started feeling sick. My throat became swollen and the rest of my body took to feeling weak and tired. Oh, the timing. Coincidence? Maybe, but I have my doubts. On Sunday morning, my nose was so clogged and my throat was so sore, I wondered if I'd be able to play at all. Fortunately, by show time, I was feeling well enough to play. At least there was that.

There are other problems. You know about the computer already. I am tired, just plain tired with a lot of my life. If I had posted last night, you would have read only the sour, and much more so than I portrayed here. That is a fact. But there has been the sweet, I must not forget. I've really come to accept how much playing music means to me, and how if I had a calling, that was it. More than ever, it has become a refuge.

I'm trying to stay positive, but I can't shake this feeling that the universe is fucking with me, that it wants to keep fucking with me until I put a bullet in my head. I thought about giving up and not just because of the car and the computer and welter of other issues. It would be easy enough - I have no family, meaning I don't have one of my own, that depends on me. I have no one, not even a hamster, that depends on me for anything. I've got some good friends, most of whom haven't dumped me for inexplicable reasons like a couple already have, but they hardly depend on me.

Ah, these thoughts meander down dark alleys. Best to stay in the middle, remain ambivalent. There is good to be found, I just need to stay alert to it. And if the universe is truly fucking with me, rather, if I commit to the belief that it is, well, I suppose this blog will be the legacy of me.

How sad.

Marlena, under Foster Grants, is under cover from the dawn's advance

I saw Blake on the highway today. It was the third time in the last month or so. The odds are against these encounters; even just the one was fairly unlikely. Two and then three? High strangeness. Below is a list documenting my feelings about the matter.

1. It would be one thing if Blake and I ran into each other on the road at specific, set times, like at the end of a work day, but the timing has been random.

2. Today, on Rte 3, I came up behind him and knew it was him before I saw his face. I pulled up beside him and he acknowledged me at almost the exact same point as the time previous. And, like the last time, we got off at the same exit and ended up parking on the same street.

3. Blake and I live and work in different states.

4. I am perplexed at how and why this keeps happening.

5. I will not be surprised in the least if this happens again. Not in the least.

6. I wonder if the first time I encountered him on the highway provoked a response in my brain to be on the lookout for a repeat occurrence, kind of in the way one keeps seeing Honda Civics after having recently purchased one. Or maybe this is just some supernatural shit. They should make a movie about this. Let me rephrase that: no one anywhere at any time should even consider making a movie about this.

Listening to Sufjan Steven's latest, The Age of Adz. I heard it described as electro-orchestral in a review I just read and I think that's an apt description. When I saw him perform recently, I hadn't heard the album yet. He performed the whole thing and, now, as I listen to it, I'm even more impressed at how well he pulled it off live. It's his Kid A and it works.

I bought some guitar picks today, which marks the first time in years. At any given time, I'm liable to be forced to use my fingers because I can't find a pick. This isn't such a bad thing because I've become a formidable finger picker (say that ten times fast), but it's kind of a drag to have to tear my room apart looking for a pick when I need one. If I had been a Boy Scout in my youth, I'm sure I would always have picks handy. I can be so flaky. It's not like guitar picks are expensive or difficult to acquire; they're quite cheap and accessible. Yet, I go years without buying any. So now I have a bunch of picks and I almost feel like a glutton.

My phone needs a lobotomy, I think. It's acting like HAL in 2001. Oh, to have stuff last - wouldn't that be something!

The Celtics are on. I love this team.

I watched The Queen last night. I don't know if it was my state of mind, but I couldn't really get into it and was eager for it to end. On the contrary, I found myself thoroughly engaged in Taking Woodstock, a film I had only a slight bit of interest in when it was in theaters. It's been on cable recently, and I've spotted it every so often as I flip channels. As a general rule, I like to watch movies from beginning to end, so the fact that I've been transfixed every time I've come upon this one. I was impressed foremost with the relaxed pace. Nothing felt rushed. Everything looked and sounded authentic. I was pleased to learn that Ang Lee directed the movie. No wonder I was drawn to it. I'm definitely going to have to Netflix it.

It's chilly. If there was a way to abolish winter, I would. The other seasons I'm perfectly fine with.

On that note, I'm out this piece.

But I see her face coming through the haze, I remember it from those crazy days

My computer seems to behaving lately, but it's not back to form. I think, until I get a new computer, I'll be dealing with my fair share of frustration. Ah, but like I said, it's behaving and I'm pleased. I'm going to chase that feeling.

My phone, on the other hand, has not been behaving. I've come to find out that I'm not getting all my calls and texts. I'll have to get a replacement. And speaking of getting a replacement, there's my bum hip. Looks like surgery is in my future. Joking, there - my hips are in fine shape. I can shake 'em like Elvis as long as I want and suffer no ill effects.

So in the last couple of days, I've picked up some favorable vibes from two women I'm into. Strange, that, because they are yin and yang as far as my interest goes and the flirty vibes occurred virtually back to back. The first woman, I know not her name, is an abstracter at the Cambridge Registry. I haven't met her officially, but we've had the eye contact thing going. I've heard her talk with others and she's quite funny and personable. And a little flaky. And cute. On the surface, she seems like someone I'd want to pursue a relationship with. Woman number two works at the Lowell Registry and is opposite Miss Cambridge in almost every way. My attraction to her is purely carnal and I don't think we'd be a good match as far as a relationship is concerned. Looks like I've got a Betty/Veronica thing going on here. Miss Cambridge is blond like Betty and Miss Lowell is a brunette like Veronica. Oh, the similarities abound!If memory serves, Archie ended up choosing Veronica, but I think that was the wrong choice. Ronnie was hot, no doubt, but Betty was so much better for Archie in the long run. And the long run is where it's at, son!

On that note, I'm going to bail on this post. I have little else to offer and would like to watch some Celtics and do some reading. I'm almost halfway through the Dragon Reborn and, as an accompaniment, I've been enjoying reading the lovely Leigh Butler's re-read of the series. So, it appears I'll be getting my geek on tonight. Cheers, bitches!

I was thinking about Isis, how she thought I was so reckless

Had a batch of dreams last night that were murky in every sense of the word. I vaguely remember being in Nashua for something work related and it being cloudy; I forget most else. I didn't go to Nashua today, but it was certainly cloudy. Despite the sense I have that the dreams weren't negative in content, I awoke feeling as if my life is riddled with things broken and cancerous. Not far from the truth, that. Seems like nothing works. My computer is barely operational - I definitely suspect a virus of some sort; my television has these weird lines adorning the top of the screen that make for a skewed viewing experience; my phone shuts off if you breathe on it the wrong way; my car has it's issues. Fortunately for me I have a ton of money to take care of these problems. I forgot: I'm poor as can be. Yes, but my heart is pure. There is that. I will get by.

Last night, I went over to True Grounds and wrote some lyrics. I didn't produce much as far as volume, but I did eke out some lines I was pleased with. I've always labored over writing lyrics, they've never come as easy as the music, and, consequently, I've come to view the process as a chore akin to doing homework. To alleviate that outlook, I've determined that the more persistent I am, the better and more flowing the results will be, hence my visit to True Grounds. Generally speaking, I've been happy with the lyrics I've written, but that aforementioned process has often been a bitch, for lack of a better, more PG-13 friendly, word.

The trick about writing lyrics, at least as far as I'm concerned, is the confinement of space in which to convey an idea, feeling, etc. The parameters are narrow. And there is also an emphasis on the sound of the words being chosen, how they sound together or apart. Do they roll off the tongue the right way? See, with this blog, I can stretch my legs, so to speak, and flesh out ideas with boundless parameters. I can go on and on ad nauseum to my heart's content without too much worry regarding structure. Occasionally, I'll try to trim some fat and correct mistakes, but for the most part I just bloviate unhindered.This is why I post far more regularly here than on Subterranean Hills where the work is more carefully crafted.

I try, with my lyrics and poetry, which are often one and the same, to reach for what Werner Herzog calls the ecstatic truth, something deep within us, perhaps dormant, but something we feel nourished by and recognize on a fundamental level. I generally don't write narratives, at least not clear and direct ones. Bruce Springsteen writes those. You can read his lyrics off a page and you've got yourself a nice little story. "Born To Run" has a cool narrative structure. And of course Bob Dylan, the master lyricist, often writes in the same way, but not necessarily direct as The Boss. "Isis", one of my favorites of his, is sublime.


I married Isis on the fifth day of May
But I could not hold on to her very long
So I cut off my hair and I rode straight away
For the wild unknown country where I could not go wrong.

I came to a high place of darkness and light
The dividing line ran through the center of town
I hitched up my pony to a post on the right
Went in to a laundry to wash my clothes down.

A man in the corner approached me for a match
I knew right away he was not ordinary
He said "Are you looking for something easy to catch ?"
I said "I got no money". He said "That ain't necessary".

We set out that night for the cold in the North
I gave him my blanket he gave me his word
I said "Where are we going ?" He said "We'd be back by the fourth"
I said "That's the best new that I've ever heard".

I was thinking about turquoise I was thinking about gold
I was thinking about diamonds and the world's biggest necklace
As we rode through the canyons through the devilish cold
I was thinking about Isis how she thought I was so reckless.

How she told me that one day we meet up again
And things would be different the next time we wed
If I only could hang on and just be her friend
I still can't remember all the best things she said.

We came to the pyramids all embedded in ice
He said "There's a body I'm trying to find
If I carry it out it'll bring a good prize"
It was then that I knew what he had on his mind.

The wind it was howling and the snow was outrageous
We chopped through the night and we chopped through the dawn
When he died I was hoping that it wasn't contagious
But I made up my mind that I had to go on.
I broke into the tomb but the casket was empty
There was no jewels no nothing I felt I'd been had
When I saw that my partner was just being friendly
When I took up his offer I must-a been mad.

I picked up his body and I dragged him inside
Threw him down in the hole and I put back the cover
I said a quick prayer and I felt satisfied
Then I rode back to find Isis just to tell her I love her.

She was there in the meadow where the creek used to rise
Blinded by sleep and in need of a bed
I came in from the East with the sun in my eyes
I cursed her one time then I rode on ahead.

She said "Where ya been ?" I said "No place special ?"
She said "You look different" I said "Well I guess"
She said "You been gone" I said "That's only natural"
She said "You gonna stay ?" I said "If you want me to, Yeah ".

Isis oh Isis you mystical child
What drives me to you is what drives me insane
I still can remember the way that you smiled

What I love about the song is the mystery embedded in a seemingly straight forward story. I prefer it when things aren't spelled out for me. I like things esoteric. Maybe I'm daft, but I couldn't tell you what this song is about. I have my ideas, but I bet they're different than yours. Or maybe not. That's why the lyrics are cool: they invite interpretation.

When someone asks me what one of my songs is about, I'll often answer that I don't know, which is generally the truth and not me being elusive. Sometimes I'll figure out what one of my songs is about years after writing it, but even then can I really be sure? I'm not suggesting I don't have a worm of an idea when I embark on a song, but it's usually not much more than that. For example, I've been thinking lately about how we affect different personas in our lives and wondering if there is one definitive self above all others. You know how people say "just be yourself"? Well, what self are you referring to? Sure, with some people I feel more relaxed, unrestrained, and more "like myself", but what about the "job" me? The family me? Are they less valid? I'm not saying these aspects of our lives are markedly different from each other, but I think you get my drift. Anyhow, with all of that in mind, I started writing.

Am I someone else when I'm with you?
Do these strands connect like a beaded string of stars?
You mute my fears when you talk close to my ear
I feel the ground give way and I'm gone to the other lives

The birth of fresh thought, the swell of my own desire
Has changed my place in the way I'm measured by others
You fetter me in your secret sphere, in your truth unprovoked

As I wrote, I discovered that my focus was on being with someone who made me feel at ease, who brought out the best of me, and made me question whether "the other lives" were fraudulent in the face of this relationship. The song is still a seedling and needs more lyrics and some retooling, but I like it so far.

Whew, well there you have it. I'm beat and will probably do little in the way of being productive once I finish this. I'll probably read from The Dragon Reborn and maybe catch some of the Bruins game before sleep takes possession of me.

A feast of friends, alive she cried

I have some doubts whether this post will see the light of day, but I'll give it a go. I've been having computer issues of late and my access to the Internet has been limited. I have no idea what is wrong with my computer, but it's been running extremely slow at times. I've run every anti-virus program I could think of multiple times and after the wiping out of a few pesky bugs, all subsequent reports have been positive, no viruses detected. But still my computer has its issues. And weird ones. Sometimes, if I'm watching a video on my Windows Media Player, I'll get no sound. Sometimes whatever page I'm on freezes for a long time. Sometimes a message pops up stating the Generic Host Win32 Plug-in has encountered a problem and needs to close. It's frustrating not knowing what's going on, but I'll work something out. And if I don't, you'll know it because my posting here will be infrequent at best. I'm sure some of you wouldn't mind that very much.

The last couple of days were busy ones. Thursday night, I went to see Sufjan Stevens at the Orpheum with Spira, Pam, and Spira's friend Sean, who I'd never met, but had seen performing on stilts at a couple events. I liked him immediately. Who doesn't like a guy who performs on stilts? Before the show, we ate at my favorite Vietnamese restaurant, the name of which I forget. What does that tell you that I don't know the name of one of my favorite restaurants? My bulb sure runs bright. Anyway, the food was so good. Pam bought dinner, something I've learned she insists on doing whenever she eats out (Note to self: go out to dinner with Pam more frequently). Damn, I wish I could remember the name of that place. Pho Zoo Zoo? No, that's not it. Phee Phi Pho Phums? Nope. Ahh, let's move on.

The show was fantastic. I've never seen one like it. He had about twelve people in his band, including three female backup singers. Everyone was dressed in garish, semi-futuristic beach attire and, in keeping with the fun-in-the-sun theme, there were beach balls strewn about the stage.

I've been a fan of Sufjan for years now. He's taken his music in unlikely directions. What initially turned me on to him was his quiet, confessional songs. His voice is soft, pretty, even, but not fragile. Those early albums were on par with Elliot Smith or Nick Drake in terms of the quality of the songs and the style. The show on Thursday was a bit of a departure.

I didn't recognize a single song until the encores. His set heavily favored his new album, which favors electronics more than the acoustic-laden instrumentation of his earlier ones. He and his band gave it their all. At times it felt as if we were in church. For one song, everyone would be on their feet clapping and grooving along with the music and then for the next, we'd be seated as Sufjan serenaded us with his just his acoustic. There were impressive, trippy visuals projected on a screen throughout the set that complimented the music very well. For those in the audience under the influence of hallucinogenics, the show must have been mind-bending. It sure was for us sober folk.

Last night, I went to Scott's birthday party up in Milford. I rode up with Janelle, Aviv, and Pooch Edward Bottoms. My only regret about the evening was that it was too short. It's not often that we all get together, but when we do, it's a therapeutic and energizing occasion. That's right - I said therapeutic and energizing. Got a problem with that? Think it's a little too New Agey? Actually, you may be right. Let's just say I have a good time when I'm with my friends.

Kim, I wish we had more time to discuss books. We'll get around to it next time we meet. And Mike, even though I'm pretty sure everyone thought you were a real asshole for dropping my beer bottle and smashing it into oblivion, I'm not mad at you. After all, you were doing me a favor by opening it for me. Still, you may want to call some people and apologize for your reckless, hurtful behavior. It was reprehensible.

I hitched a ride home with Foley after Aviv beat him, and others handily at Connect Four. I watched the tourney as Mike Austin and I played a couple of dulcimers. If you had told me before the party that I'd be providing dulcimer accompaniment to a Connect Four tournament, I would have been a little surprised, but only a little.

I tried staying awake for a bit after arriving home, but it was a futile endeavor. I fell asleep in the middle of a Curb Your Enthusiasm episode. It had been a busy day with work, a long and vigorous run, and the party. No all-nighter for this guy.

Okay, I better wrap this up and see if it publishes. I hope it does, because I spent five hours crafting it. I'm kidding. I don't think I could spend five hours doing anything. Well, that's not exactly true - I sleep more than five hours every night. Anyway, this bird has flown, to quote Mr. Lennon.

Cheers!

Too many people going underground

I confess to feeling less than joyous, but considering it's Monday and rainy, it's not something I'm too concerned with. Thanks to daylight savings, the majority of my run earlier was accomplished in the dark. There were sections of the bike path where I couldn't see a foot in front of me. Occasionally, I'd come across a fellow runner, but for the most part, it was just me alone out there. Kind of spooky, but also kind of cool. I may end up having to find an alternate route, though; if I continue with this one, I'm liable to get hurt.

I caught Therese staring at me several times today. I don't know what that was about, but I know this much: her gaze wasn't malevolent. Was she checking me out? I can't say for sure. At one point, I wondered if I had a booger in my nose or food on my face. I went to the rest room and checked myself in the mirror. Nothing. Just my angelic visage.

Walked over to Vernon Street on Saturday to check out the open studios. I hit Mara's room first. I was pleased to find that she was in good spirits. Her boyfriend was coming by, but I didn't stick around to meet him. Mara's studio is tiny and with people coming in and out, it's wasn't the ideal place for me to be sitting around. So I joined up with Sarah and her friend, Linda, who, in retrospect, seemed like she might have been into me. When we parted ways, I made the rounds. I ran into Stan, my asshole-pervert-nudist neighbor. We ignored each other. The guy is such a prick. If I happen to be outside with Janelle or any other female, he'll be all over them, but not even acknowledge that I'm there. What a twisted old asshole. Not a fan of Stan. At least, now that it's colder, I don't have to see him walking around naked like a six foot tall piece of beef jerky.

Scott came down the other night and I met up with him and Foley at a pub down the street. Great seeing him. Wished it wasn't a work night. They wanted to go back to Foley's and play some music into the night, but I was too tired. I hope they had fun.

It's been strange - I haven't been able to gauge whether my life as currently constituted is pretty shitty or pretty good. In some ways, I feel better than I have in a long time, but I also feel untethered and uncared for. Adrift, but with a feeling that it won't be for long. Ah, who knows. Maybe I should just stop thinking about it.

Watched Crazy Heart over the weekend. Jeff Bridges is the man! Without him, the movie would have been good, but nothing to write home about. I think he won, or at least was nominated, for an Oscar. Oh, and Maggie Gyllenhal, Colin Farrel, and Robert Duvall weren't too shabby, either. Next up: The Queen. Oh, and I'm halfway through Nosferatu. Maybe I'll finish that up tonight.

I forgot the start, use my hands to use my heart

Getting ready for work this morning I was struck with the strong urge to stay home. Was it the rain and its attendant dreariness? Possibly, but it felt like something more, something I couldn't get a grip on. I wasn't against going to work, in fact I was all dressed and ready, but there was that urge tugging at me. So I took a personal day and stayed home.

Despite the rain and chill, I went for a run soon after I called work. It wasn't too uncomfortable early on, but it became so about halfway through. I arrived home soaked and chilled to the bone. It was worth it.

I've been wondering if the lack of intimacy in my life is having an underlying detrimental effect. I feel as if I've become numb to that part of life, but sometimes when I see a couple embracing, I feel a pang of lack.

Well, intimacy takes other forms. Wrapping my arms around Pooch Edward often does the trick. He's good like that. It's how he pulls his weight around here. Otherwise, we'd kick the little freeloader out on the curb. The curb, I tells ya!

With Rich gone, so are the sights, smells, and sounds he blessed the house with. The constant brutal and ragged coughing - gone. The sound of ice cubes landing in a glass, also constant, but not brutal and ragged, of Gatorade or Diet Coke - gone. The muttering of curses and grievances we'd hear almost daily - gone. The smell of tater tots or breaded chicken breasts in the toaster oven - gone. The low rumble of Death Metal or the terrified screeching of horror movie damsels being butchered emanating from his bedroom - gone. Do I miss any of it? Maybe the coughing; it comforted me.

I was talking with Ella about malls and how offensive they are. When I have work to do in Cambridge, I park in Galleria's parking garage. To exit, I have to walk through the mall. It takes me about two minutes, but I always feel gross when I get outside, polluted. I worked in a mall years ago. I don't know how I did it. Only for a few months, but it was the closest I've ever coming to losing my very soul.

A new episode of The Office is on tonight. At least I think there is. I'll find out, I guess. Revolutionary Road, a film I've wanted to see for a while, was on cable earlier. I watched most of it. Very good, but also very depressing. Maybe The Office will be less depressing.

Time to go work on music. Listening to Sufjan Stevens as I type and it's inspired me. Also, Fairport Convention's Full House arrived in the mail yesterday. Their first album without Sandy Denny and Ashley Hutchins and very good. More muscular, punchy. One of Richard Thompson's best performances. I've listened to Sir Patrick Spens about sixty times already. So effin' good!

Last night I saw the new moon clear, with the old moon in her hair

Yesterday, I went to court to appeal the speeding ticket I got back in May. There were about thirty other people doing the same thing. I was glad I put a few extra quarters in the meter, but had a feeling it was going to be a close call whether I got a ticket or not. Would have been kind of funny getting a ticket as I was appealing one. Yeah, real funny.

Fortunately, my wait wasn't terribly long - about forty five minutes, which is kind of a drag, but I was out in time to avoid getting a ticket. While I waited, several of us related to each other what we were appealing and why. One woman told me, "I blew through a red light and didn't pull over for the cop right away. Oh, and I didn't have my license on me. My ticket was $400." I didn't ask how she planned on talking her way out of paying, but when she came out of the court room and reported that she has to pay the full amount, I wasn't terribly surprised. "The lady asked me if I blew through the stop sign. 'Hell yes, I blew through the stop sign!', I said." Yeah, that will usually get you out of a ticket.

After hearing her story and others, I felt confident I was going to get out of paying. In brief, I was pulled over for going 47 in a 35. I had been on a stretch of road that is basically a highway - the speed limit is 55 - and ends abruptly, hence the the changeover to 35 mph. I had been going the former speed limit and a few seconds after I saw the sign for 35, I was pulled over. I virtually had no time to slow down, short of slamming on my brakes.

The Judge had mercy on me. "Oh, I hate the Connector!", she said. "I'm saying you're not responsible." USA! USA! USA! I don't have to pay that damned ticket! And I'm not responsible, which means I drive as recklessly as I want with impunity. Nice!
--
I was all over the place today. I started my day at the ROD in Cambridge, drove to work afterward, where I stayed for a few minutes before hitting the road. I recorded in Lawrence, Lowell, and finished up in Nashua.

On my way to Nashua, a car pulled up beside me in the passing lane; the driver was trying to get my attention. I looked over and saw that it was Blake. That was the second time in as many months that I'd encountered him on the highway. The first time was on a different highway. Seeing him once was strange enough - Blake lives in NH and I live near Boston - but twice.... hmmm.

Even stranger, we ended up on the same street in Nashua. He didn't realize it and I followed him into the liquor store he entered. We talked a bit and when I left, I felt kind of weird, as if I had been stalking him or something, even though he had come upon me first.

A few minutes later in the ROD, I got a call from Scott. As I was telling him about running into
Blake on the highway, he said, "Oh my God : Brian Martin's behind me!" Brian pulled up alongside Scott's car and they figured out they were going to the same place miles away. That kind of day.
--
Haven't seen Ella too much since she moved in, but I did get to hang out with her a bit early last night. It's been interesting seeing the little signs that someone new is living with us. Little clues everywhere, like a foreign tube of tooth paste in the bathroom or a light turned on that is seldom so. So far, so good. The overall vibe of the place has noticeably lightened up.

Mara's been clingy of late. Understandable, considering she's in the throes of depression, but not entirely welcome. She called me last night while I was at the laundromat. She was crying and wanted to hang out. I had just come off a busy day - I worked, went to court, ran, and was presently doing laundry. I was looking forward to sitting down and decompressing and, needless to say, didn't have much enthusiasm as far as hanging out with Mara was concerned. I wish I did, but it's a draining, taxing, thing. My attitude is selfish and I am not proud of it, but I don't always have the energy necessary to deal with her. That said, what she's going through isn't a walk in the park. Not at all. I will try to be a better friend. I did, after all, tell her, that I'd be there for her.

Alright, then, I'm done with you. As you were.

We are living in a material world

Saw Mara today. It had been more than a couple of weeks since we last saw each other and she was in the same depressed state today as she was then. She's been seeing a therapist and has been taking medication, but it still hasn't taken effect yet. I knew that the second I walked into her house. She was weeping when she answered the door and continued to do so off and on during my stay. I tried bringing some levity into the environment, but it didn't stick. We went into her room and she collapsed on her bed next to a box of tissues. We didn't talk much.

I convinced her to take a walk. We ventured down to Union Square, stopped at a bakery, and then came back. I didn't stay long. In fact, a part of me couldn't get out of there quick enough. I suppose that's selfish, perhaps uncaring, but there it is. I care for her a lot, but I wasn't doing much good being there. What ails her runs pretty deep and I am helpless before it. I'm not a fatalist about her situation, however. I think once her medication kicks in, she'll be in better shape. And I also think my being with her helped some, but, man, it wasn't a picnic.
--
Rich moved out on Friday. Throughout the week, Janelle and I had wondered if he was going to leave without saying goodbye. He was in full hermit mode and seemed as if he didn't want much to do with us. On Friday morning, Rich came into the kitchen and told us he'd be leaving soon. We talked a bit and said our farewells. When I came home from work, he was still there. His sister was coming by to pick him up. While he waited, we had a good talk until his ride showed up. Both of us were glad we had the opportunity to hang out a bit before he left.

Despite some issues, some more problematic than others, it was bittersweet seeing Rich go. It was time, though. If he hadn't made the decision to move, we probably would have made it for him. He was a negative presence in the house and it affected everyone. Most of his issues had more to do with himself than with us, but whatever he was going through was often directed outward. And it didn't help that he had someone whispering in his ear about me (Oh, I know all about it). Can't say I was overjoyed at that development - it made things worse, to be sure - but that won't be happening anymore. I probably should have spoken up about what I knew, but I don't think it would have mattered much. Guess this person will have to talk shit about me to someone else now that Rich has left the building.

(Most of the above was written yesterday, but I lost my Internet connection, so I'm picking up where I left off)

Ella is all moved in. One carload was all it took. Actually, it wasn't even a carload - she only made a couple of trips to the car and she was done. Talk about traveling light. She had some clothes, an air mattress, pillow and a few other things. She said this was a result of her simplifying things. Pretty admirable.

I'm behind schedule. Have things to do and I better get started. Just watched Sherlock Holmes with Robert Downey Jr. Pretty good, well done, but it seemed like it was lacking in some regard. Okay, I'm out.

I'm burning all my bridges

Richard & Linda Thompson's Hokey Pokey arrived in the mail yesterday and I quickly ripped it to my computer so that I could download it to my iPod and listen to it during my run. In a grave act of disobedience, my iPod froze up. Not only was I deprived of listening to my new purchase, I was deprived of listening to any music whatsoever. Ever since I extended my runs, I've always had the iPod playing. This was going to be interesting.

Almost immediately during the run, I was reminded how much I enjoyed the "silent" run. Very meditative. I remember reading an interview with Jeff Tweedy with him commenting on how nuts he thought people who ran with the accompaniment of music. And this coming from a musician. I see nothing wrong with having music playing - it can be a great motivator - but, in the end, I think there are greater benefits to be garnered without it. On the bike path, under the trees & padding softly on the pine needles, I felt blissful. It was so quiet. Sublime.

On the last leg of my run, I saw a football practice wrapping up. The kids, looked like a high school team, were running sprints. One kid lagged far behind. He was massive, sluggish, and was barely lifting his feet off the ground. Everyone was spread out in the end zone, waiting for him to reach them. I thought back to the years of organized sports I played and felt bad for this kid. He was the odd man out, the weakest link; not a good position to be in, especially when everyone is fatigued and wanting to wrap things up.

He reached mid-field, where one of the coaches stood. I listened for the tongue-lashing. It never came. Instead, the coach cheered him on. "You can do it, Miles. You got it." I was impressed, but still felt bad for him. Certainly the other players weren't going to be as forgiving. Again, my assumption was wrong. The entire line of players shouted their encouragement, hooped and hollered. "Come on, Miles! You own this! You the man!" Miles picked up his pace and reached the end zone. I thought that was pretty cool.

November will mark my fifth year of not smoking. I am so glad I quit that habit. Having some distance from it, I see how foul it is. The smell sticks to everything. I walked into my office the other day and it reeked of smoke. I asked Sharon if she smelled it. "It must be from Tim. He came in to get some coffee."

"When was that?", I asked.

"About an hour ago."

I was speaking with a friend recently about smoking and he equated it with suicide. I don't agree. Not entirely, anyway. I don't think smokers are trying to kill themselves. There are quicker methods. Suicidal people are usually looking for a quick, sure-fire, method of offing themselves. There's no guarantee that smoking will off you. I think it's safe to say that smokers are aware of the dangers of their habit, but convince themselves that they will not suffer them. It's always some other poor sap that gets cancer.

Smoking is an unconscious act. No one acting consciously would light up a cigarette. Believe me, I know this from experience. It took me years to finally become fed up being leashed to this vile, insidious habit. It is a real son of a bitch, to be sure. And more expensive than ever. Glad I quit when I did.
-

Soon, soon, soon. I can't wait for the cloud to be lifted. I'm getting giddy just thinking about it.

With that, I'm off to watch some 30 Rock and then The Office.

Now I'm older, gotta get a clean place

I just gave myself a minute and a half to figure out a way to relate a disconcerting trend I've noticed recently without sounding like a thirteen year old gossipy Twitter freak or sidestepping the identity of certain key players (even if I gave them phony names, it would still be easy enough to ascertain who I was referring to). Was the minute and a half productive? No. I didn't think it would be, but I tried. See what I do for you, readers? Anyway, let's just leave it at this: To some, I feel like I've become either a pariah or just plainly someone not worth giving the time of day to. I don't know why this is. Maybe it's the way the planets are aligned, maybe, despite my pure heart, I'm just a lousy prick. Whatever the case, I'm not giving any more energy to this.

The Celtics have their opening game against The Heat tonight and it will probably rank as one of the most anticipated and viewed games in the NBA's regular season, despite the fact that it won't have much impact whatever the outcome. Oh, I can't wait to watch this one. Preseason was pretty cool, but this, well this is something else.

I've paid attention to the Celtics off-season maneuvering with rapt interest and have determined that I like the makeup of this team better than any other in recent memory. Everyone picks LeBron and The Heat as the forerunners in the east, but I think the Celtics will surpass them. Should be a fun season.

I'm thinking about reading Keith Richards' autobiography. I heard him on NPR yesterday discussing it and I determined it would probably be an entertaining read. Maybe I'll give myself the book for Christmas. Either that, or appeal to Santa Claus, but I'm still not entirely convinced he's real.

Wrote the skeleton of another song last night. Happened while I was taking a break from writing lyrics to another one. Doesn't need much added to it. Another quick one. In an effort to invigorate the writing process, I've gone back to the way I used to do it. Well, I didn't always do it this way, but I digress.

What I'd do is write a guitar part pretty quickly, play it a few times to acquaint myself with it, and then record it. Then I'd listen back and come up with some melodies for vocals and write some lyrics. Once that was accomplished, I'd record the vocals. With that accomplished, I'd add more guitars or vocals. The outcome was usually pretty good. Sure, there were some duds, but for the most part everything worked.

So, I'm taking that approach again, only this time I'm a little more polished. This method of writing forces me to be creative and more forgiving. It's also more direct and unfiltered. Once I have an album's worth, I'll put it on a CD for myself. If others are interested in hearing it, they'll get a copy. Not counting on that, though. I will also try to post some of it on this very here blog.

Time for laundry and then some C's. Ciao, bitches!