Tuesday, November 30, 2010

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.

Friday, November 19, 2010

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.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

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!

Monday, November 15, 2010

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.

Saturday, November 13, 2010

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!

Monday, November 8, 2010

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.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

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!

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

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!
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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.
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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.