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!

I'm beating my retreat back home to you

Sunday. A good day to listen to the Stanley Brothers, so that's what I'm doing. I just finished watching the Red Riding trilogy. I watched the first installment yesterday and liked it so much I watched the remaining two today. The films depict a corrupt police force in West Yorkshire England as it tries to cover up a pedophile ring. Filled with rubes, cockerels, and miscreants, the films are bleak, but there are characters who try to expose the corruption. Gripping stuff.

Wrote a song in about ten minutes the other night, lyrics and all. I'm pleased with it and wish this type of thing would happen more often.

This is Rich's last week in the house. I think, over the last week, I've seen him a total of a minute and a half and shared only the briefest of conversations. He's been doing the hiding hermit bit and I half suspect he'll continue with it right up until when he leaves. Whatever. I'm ready for the change. I look forward to seeing what Ella is about.
--
I've never seen a scarier political climate in this country than what we have now. Really, these are truly dark days. Where are the rational voices? Even during the Bush empire, there were at least a few, now it's just a rogue's gallery of villains who make no bones about not having the citizen's interests in mind. Obviously, I'm being cynical here and maybe not entirely rational myself, but things are grim and it's tough to be positive.

On that note, I will finish my coffee and contemplate my next move. Dexter is on soon, I'd like to work on some music, and perhaps I'll watch either Sherlock Holmes or Crazy Heart, the two Netflix movies I have in my possession. Monday approaches - can I make it through another week? We'll see.

Richard & Linda Thompson / Dimming Of The Day - Dargai

No use waiting like a ghost in a dream, the world has no comfort to bring

Just practiced yoga and feel loose and strong and clear-minded. It's an art that requires patience to reap its rewards. I've been practicing for years now, but it's only been the last several months that I've fully embraced it. And, lately, including my earlier session, I've been challenging myself more, which implies increased exertion, which there has been, but a lot of what's been going has been primarily about release, about trusting my body, connecting to it.

I had a dream about Mandy, the dog of my youth, last night. The theme was the same as always: you can't go home again. It's not natural to give the past the authority of the present. The poor girl, lying beside me as I hugged her tightly, tears streaming down my face. Her breathing was rapid, her heart disturbingly overworked. I knew it wasn't right that I had here, like a fish pulled from the sea, but it was hard to let go. I woke up, eyes wet. She was a fine dog, but she is gone to me. I am not outside nature, I am in the thick of it - I must embrace its rules or suffer. The past is the past. The future is the future. The present is all there is.

At one point yesterday, I thought about how irretrievable the past is, even when it feels so close you could touch it. I recalled the days of early adulthood, when I met many of the friends I still have. Some of their images came up hazy, some vivid. Seemed recent, but in reality quite a bit further back. Years. Strange, this life. Stranger, the older I get. It was this line of thought that summoned the dream. I think so, anyway.

We move on. And on. And on. I don't think we die, I think we just keep experiencing "now". Eternally. I won't be a ghost that haunts people and places that have no tangible existence. Still, I miss my girl, and those days of deep kinship, seemingly abiding. Eventually, will all be forgotten as I hurdle through the great expanse of life? I wonder.

Richard and Linda Thompson's Pour Down Like Silver arrived in the mail today. Gave it a once through already. Less raucous than I Want To See The Bright Lights Tonight, but equally effective. Around this time, the couple had embraced Sufism and the songs reflect this paradigm shift. Devotional, but not preachy. Great stuff. Oh, and the shot of Linda in the CD booklet is strikingly beautiful. I feel a sigh coming on.

Coming up: Finish watching Sita Sings The Blues, record some music, read from The Great Hunt, watch The Office, shower, write some emails, and who knows what else. And that's just tonight. I better get started.

I am a roving gambler, I've gambled down in town, whenever I meet with a deck of cards, I lay my money down

Therese came to work late this morning. As she was getting settled, she told Sharon and me that she was delayed because she couldn't find her keys. After searching everywhere in her house, she finally found them in the grass near her front door. Immediately, I saw the problem with this scenario. "So how did you get in the when you came home yesterday?", I asked. Her jaw dropped slightly and her eyes widened. Barely perceptible, but I caught it. I wasn't in the business of trying to catch her in a lie and didn't want her to have that impression, so before she could respond, I said, "Or was someone home already?"

Instead of replying that indeed one of her sons or husband was home , she said "Oh, we don't lock our doors. I suppose we should, but we don't." Therese is the type to install a metal detector in her doorway. This business about leaving the doors unlocked during the day doesn't ring true.

Throughout the day, it became more evident that Therese was late for a reason other than the one she provided. At one point, when recounting her search for her keys, she said her son, who's been unemployed and at home for the last week, helped her look for them. I resisted the urge to ask her about a spare set of keys, but I did wonder. If Therese doesn't have a set of spare car keys filed away somewhere in her house, clearly labeled and visible, then I'm the newest cast member of Jersey Shore. And if she was worried about her house key, well A) she already established they don't lock the doors, so no worries there and B) her son, Billy, is home all day, so even if she was in the habit of locking the door, she wouldn't have needed to this morning.

It's possible Therese was telling the truth, but I doubt it. I was fairly amused by the whole thing but a small part of me felt hurt that she couldn't have told me the truth. Maybe the truth was too embarrassing. What if she was late because she was having a little morning delight with her husband. Maybe she had spent all night at a cock fight and overslept. Ah, I'll probably never know the truth. All I know is that Therese needs to lie better. She needs to look for holes in her story before she presents it, otherwise she could get caught in a lie. Hey, we can't always bring our A-game to the table.
--
I haven't heard back from Ella, our new roommate, yet. After she accepted our offer, I emailed her asking her about when she'd be available to drop off her rent check. That was on Sunday; still no response. I'm not too concerned, but I hope I hear back from her soon. If she bails on us, it could really put us in a bind. One thing I've kept in mind is that throughout our correspondence she's never gotten back to me right away. I suspect the reason for this has to do with the fact that she might not have frequent access to a computer. She's staying with a friend and hers might be packed away somewhere. We'll see. I'm crossing my fingers. How many days do we let go by without a response before we pull the plug and seek out another roommate? Hmmm, let's hope it doesn't get to that point. If I don't hear from her by tomorrow, I'll shoot her another email. I don't have her number (I asked for it in the last email), but she has mine. She doesn't seem the type to bail, but you never know.

In the meantime, we're counting down the days until Rich leaves. I'll get into it another time, but he's really getting on our nerves. What else is new.

And now it's time for me to shut it down. I have laundry to attend to and I may watch Sita Sings The Blues.

She passes him on the spiral staircase, thinking he's the Soviet ambassador

Haven't posted much lately and I'm not exactly sure why. Maybe this has run its course. More likely I just haven't been inspired to write lately. It happens. I haven't been reading much these days; maybe there's a connection. Things have been happening, though.

For one, I just received confirmation from Ella that she will be our new roommate. Janelle and I are pretty happy about it. We only met with three people - everyone else was filtered out for various reasons or were no shows - and each we thought would make a good roommate, but Ella stood out. I kind of wish we had enough room for everyone. Mind you, I only kind of wish that. As things develop, I'll convey Ella in more detail.

Last night, I sat and listened to music. I did little else. On a Saturday night? Before you feel too sorry for me, understand that I enjoyed myself quite a bit and only felt the tiniest pang of guilt for not being social. Hey, sometimes you get a night where listening to music is all you want to do.

I listened to Richard Thompson's Sweet Warrior, Bob Dylan's Desire, The Band's Greatest Hits, and then some more Dylan: his Blonde on Blonde, an album that's confused and perplexed me as much as any relationship I've had. It's his White Album in more than a couple of ways. I sometimes have trouble deciding whether it's an absolute work or genius or at best, uneven. Last night, I leaned closer to the former assessment. Just the fact that it has Sad Eyed Lady of The Lowlands on it makes it a very good album, even if every other song was rubbish.

Desire is such a gorgeous album. I love the songs, the production (all that reverb - the drums sound huge!), the lineup, the cohesiveness (even though one of the criticisms people have of the album is that it lacks some). I came to Dylan fairly late, but I always felt I'd someday get him because I admired his propensity for expansion, his fearlessness when it came to trying new things. Listening to Desire as I type this. Great singing - he and Emmylou Harris have some fine duets- and there's a breezy, Mediterranean, feel throughout. Could be my favorite Dylan album

I've experienced some significant breakthroughs during my last couple of sessions of yoga. Been more flexible, stronger. I've been challenging myself a bit more and I've felt the results. I feel like I've made it to another tier in my practice.

Time to go play a bit with Pooch Edward Bottoms, aka Baby Boy Z.

And honey believe me, I'd sure like to call you my girlfriend

Heard Pearl Jam on the radio today, can't remember the name of the song - something from their middle period - and I had the same reaction I usually get when I hear them: Yawn. It shouldn't be that way, especially considering their bread and butter is energy, at least as concerns their live shows, but I'm here to tell you that pretty much anything they've done after their debut I find to be pretty lukewarm. I may be in the minority with this assessment, but I can't change the way I feel. What should happen is Eddie Vedder should join The Who. The guy does Daltrey better than Daltrey.

A guy came by to check out the apartment last night. Nice guy; we clicked. Turns out he used to live next door back when Bob TV was taking his sweet time moving out of our place (see earlier posts for more details; will be worth your while) and got to live with him for a week or two when Bob TV crashed on their couch. "Don't be like Bob and we'll have no quarrel", I should have told him. I guess, in a more indirect way, I probably did. That Bob TV was a pip, he was.

By week's end, we're hoping to decide on a new roommate. We're looking forward to the change and so is Rich, I think. The guy needs a change of scenery, to be sure.

No one's coming by tonight. I'll be taking advantage of the free time by watching some Mad Men and maybe some of the Celtics preseason game. I want to do some reading, too. Haven't done much lately and I miss it.

While waiting for my number to be called at the Registry of Deeds in Cambridge this afternoon, the guy sitting behind me tapped me on the shoulder and asked me about my phone. I already had a private grievance against this guy because he was in line ahead of me at the security check at the entrance of the building and took forever emptying his pockets of change, keys, more change, and a bunch of other stuff. The security guard looked about ready to scream "Dude, you know you're going through a metal detector - leave some of this shit behind, son!"

Anyway, I tell him about my phone, disabusing him of the notion that it was a Blackberry. "Nothing of the sort", I told him. "Pretty basic." I wasn't in the mood for a chat, but I didn't want to be rude, so I tried to mask my annoyance when he kept talking to me. When someone he knew would walk by, he'd call them over and break into a diatribe about his kid's education or some shit. He obviously couldn't detect or didn't care to acknowledge the body language of his victims, because the second he'd pause for breath, they'd start walking away, only to be called back.

The thing is, this guy seemed pretty nice. If he died today, I bet everyone who knew him would comment on how affable and sweet he was, and they'd probably be right. While alive, though, I bet these same people find him annoying and avoid him like the plague. And they probably feel kind of bad about, like I would, but some people, and I suspect this applies to him, have no off switch. Bob TV had no off switch. He'd go on and on and on.

Speaking of going on and on and on, I'm in danger of doing that very thing, so I'm out of here.

Cheers!

Happy Birthday!

I can still hear the sound of those Methodist bells, I'd taken the cure and had just gotten through

A glorious day weather-wise. We had our first potential roommate come by earlier in the day. Young guy - affable and warm. We both liked him. There are more lined up in the coming days. It may be tough deciding who to pick. Not a terrible problem to have.

Afterward, I went for a run, making a pit stop in Davis Square to check out the Honk parade. All sorts of eclectic street bands. Real joyous, lots of fun. I love a parade!

Went to my parent's house yesterday morning and stayed most of the day. We went out to lunch at the China Buffet and I had to pace myself. I was starving by the time we got there and felt I was in danger of over doing it. I did okay, but almost everyone else there were a bunch of pigs. Really, this place attracts the gluttons. Why not? It's a buffet- time to pig out. It's the American way!

It was a nice visit. It's never a chore seeing my parents. I love them very much.

Later on, I got a call from Sean, who just moved to Vermont. Turned out, he was in the area for the night and wanted to get together. Sean is one of my oldest friends, and it's always great seeing him. Spira and I met up with him at The Independent in Union Square for food and drinks. A good time with lots of laughs. Question: is six dollars for a draft beer too expensive? How about seven dollars for a small bowl of clam chowder? Maybe I'm out of touch, but my answer to both questions is yes. Good thing the chowder was tasty and the beer smooth, otherwise I would have fire-bombed that place to hell. That, or I would have been slightly more irked than I was.

A long weekend for just about everyone it seems. Not for me, though. That's okay. If I hated my job and the people I work with, I'd be grouchy right now. Fortunately, that's not the case.

Dexter tonight, followed by a round of emailing to apartment candidates. And then, later, in the quiet hours, I will get into bed and fall asleep and dream about stuff.

I hear the window shade, I hear the silence break

Just shot off about twelve emails in reply to inquiries about the room we're renting. I put up an add on Craigslist last night and immediately got a welter of responses. Some good prospects, but we'll know better once we start meeting these people, which will be soon. Should be interesting. Foley met an ex-girlfriend of his interviewing for an apartment. I'll just be happy if we get someone who doesn't shit on the floor.

In other news...

As I was writing the top paragraph, I felt a heavy, almost overwhelming, vibration course through my body. I let it pass and didn't meditate on what I thought it was. I didn't say to myself in a cowering, weakened voice "Oh no, I'm dying! Am I dying?". Well, in the interest of full disclosure, I did kind of think something along those lines. Initially, though, and I got past it. I only bring it up because the older, younger, version of myself (how's that for a paradox?) would have made the situation worse, would have blown it up into something it wasn't, like I was on the verge of doing earlier today during a run when I almost got struck by a kid hauling ass on his bike. I'm talking full throttle! Right in the chest, I would have taken the impact. Probably would have killed me, and if I did survive, I would have been hospitalized for sure. It scared me, and, as I was replaying the event in my mind while layering outrage in thickening strips upon the scene, another voice appeared, counseling me to let it go. Immediately let it go. It happened, it's done. The kid didn't mean it, you're okay. You should be happy. You should be jumping for joy that you emerged unharmed. You should know how fortunate you are.

I didn't stop thinking about the incident until a few minutes later, but stop I did. I wasted valuable minutes of my time, of my life, stewing over something I had no control over. I could have gone on and on in my unconsciousness. I'm glad for the voice that awoke me. I saw clearly how self-centered we are, how entitled we think we are. I narrowly escaped getting slammed into by a speeding bike and all I could feel was abashed, angered.

Oh, and I have have no idea what that business with my body vibrating was all about. Maybe I sensed a disturbance in the force. I'm not even joking - it's possible that I did.

Watched The Office tonight. A good one and layered. It will stand up to repeated viewings, I have no doubt. Just like this post. Seriously, come back to it in about a week; you'll see that I'm right.

You are the law, the long hard road, grave inevitable destiny

A quick post, but it'll have to do. What's been on my mind? Let's see.

1. Been listening to The Roches a lot. I love their strangeness. I hardly expected to learn so much from them, but I have. Principally, I've been reminded what a joy music can be.

2. I've decided Lowell George is my current guitar hero.

3. Been rotating a few knew songs around. Sometimes they come in bunches. Trying to keep focused on them so that they may see completion while maintaining a flexible attitude. One of the knew songs is going to have the word rictus in it. Don't know in what context - I just love the word. It's a good one.

4. Watched Herzog's My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done. One word: Hell-Yes-Son!


5. Had a dream that woke me up at five in the morning. I'll spare you the details. Another romp through the woods of my subconscious. Mandy, the dog of my youth, was with me.

6. I just had a thought of honey-baked ham. Now I'm hungry. No ham for me, though.

7. I like this new Celtics line up. Looking forward to the upcoming season. A lot of depth and Shaq is in residence. How can you not get excited about that?