Wanted a woman, never bargained for you

I worked mostly out of the office today. The trips to the Lowell and Cambridge registries took up most of the day. In Lowell, I admired the women working there, and by admired, I mean....ah, you know what I mean. I did the same in Cambridge. And before you harbor an image of me only checking out so-called hot chicks, know this: I'm attracted to a high percentage of the women I encounter in public. Maybe in the 80's. Some more than others, but you get the drift. Oh, hell, how did I get off on this tangent?

So, yeah, my day was mostly spent at the two registries. I like being out and about. Things went more or less smoothly - no frustrating gaffs - and when I came home I practiced yoga. It was a great session. Too bad you missed it.


Every time the warmer weather tries to assert itself, winter reasserts its self in a bullying way. Take today: not terribly warm, but pretty warm, and the Sun was shining exultantly, and the wind, for a change, wasn't gale-force. Ahhhh.....nice. Hold your horses, tough guy -winter has announced it plans on raining on this parade and dumping its whit shit all over us on Friday. I do not like bullies! I am also afraid of them, so I guess there's nothing I can do to avert this coming attraction.


The Celtics have fallen from grace. They haven't been playing well since the trade and they are being skewered by everyone for it. They are alone in the universe. Can they find their way out of this mess? Yes, I say! Yes! They will prove everyone wrong. This, I see with clear vision. This, I know. Keep the faith, C's. Unbuntu!

Ok, less talk, more rock. Need to practice some music.

Cold brains, umoved, untouched, unglued

Back from my parent's house. It was a nice visit. These days, my parents are more like friends. I don't view our visits as a chore, a necessary evil. They are something I look forward to. I say they've been more like friends, but make no mistake, they are my family in the best sense of the world. They would do anything for me. I would do almost anything for them (e.g. I wouldn't stab Janelle in the eyes and throat and lower back if they asked me to. Even if she had been acting like a self-entitled bitch, I would refrain). Oh, and for those of you who've been keeping tabs on my meals, we had chicken....shoot, some kind of chicken dish. Kind of looked like chicken pot pie, but with a top layer of bread crumbs. Anyway, it was tasty, and with the chicken we had some steamed veggies (one of those microwave baggie jobs), Italian bread (Mi sei mancato molto!), and a salad. For dessert, a Pepperidge (sp?) Farm cake and cookies I had mistook for breaded chicken patties. I have to admit I was a little disappointed they weren't. I was quite hungry and ate with zeal ( Sono Affamato!).

Saw There Will Be Blood yesterday. Great effin movie. "I'm Finished!" What a line. Also, I watched one of my all time favorites, "The New World". A good day for movie watching. I had started to watch 2012, but decided it might depress me, especially in light of the Japan situation.

I'm working on a new show about a guy who goes back in time with only one aim: to tease and take advantage of people far less advanced than him. Not to teach, not to learn. I think it would be a hit.

Time to write hits of the music variety. Or die trying.

It's really just a question of your honesty, yeah, your honesty

I was coming down a freight elevator with Luke Warm. We hadn't seen each other in ages and were in the process, or at least I hoped it was a process, of reconciliation. We went one level lower than the ground floor and stopped. He got out first. There was a metal ladder leading we had to climb down to reach the floor. I advised Luke to watch his step, but he fell about a hundred feet and landed in a twisted heap. I knew right away it was bad. I hurried down the ladder to help him. All the while, he called out to me, asking me how bad it was. When I reached him, I saw that his injuries were probably fatal. Blood was coming out of his mouth. Internal injuries. Even though it wasn't his body, but some middle-aged guy's with a mustache, it was still him. He was speaking gibberish; he was in shock. I fumbled with my phone to dial 911, but it was in text mode and the numbers I typed were translated into letters. Frustration. Fear. He was going to die and I couldn't dial my phone. So much unresolved!

I woke up.

And couldn't fall back to sleep, which is why I'm exhausted right now. Ah, the past, how it haunts. Well, I should have seen the dream coming. The Luke Warm stuff had to do with my discussion last night with Craig about him. The falling off the ladder had to do with the watching yesterday of There Will Be Blood.

I've made little mention in this blog about the abrupt ending of my friendship with Luke Warm, and this post will be the last time. There's no use beating a dead horse.

About two years ago, I had been playing music with LW on a fairly consistent basis. It had been a long time since we'd done that and it felt good. Practices were going well, low key and virtually expectation free. One day at work, I received a voice mail from LW stating he no longer wanted to play music with me. Odd. Something was up. He obviously didn't want to talk to me because he called at a time he knew I couldn't pick up.

From that point on, he avoided me. I reached out gingerly a few times through emails and texts, but was met with either a curt response or none at all. Obviously, he wanted nothing to do with me. But why?

Time passed. Months and months later, I saw him at Craig's parent's place on the Cape. He was cordial and we spent some time together, but there was a palpable wall between us. He had refused to car pool with Mike and me and made a hasty retreat the next day.

The next, and last, time I saw him was at April and Jaegan's wedding. At the reception, we hung out a bit. I asked him where he'd been and if everything was ok. He replied he hadn't gone anywhere and everything was fine. I didn't force the issue. If he had a problem with me, he'd tell me or he wouldn't. I was sure he wouldn't have responded well to me attempting to coax information out of him.

Later, in the parking lot, a group of us were making plans to walk over to the beach. LW declined and left. We tried to convince him to stay. He begged off. The last image I have of him was him driving away. Away. I had hoped for more time with him.

I found out a few months later he was moving to Seattle. Foley had told me,but later came back and asked me not to tell anyone, because LW was trying to keep it on the down low. A week or two later, I ran into Leesa at the grocery store. She asked me when I was getting together with LW to see him off. She said he been calling everyone and making plans to hang out before he left. I told her I hadn't heard from him and left it at that.

Here I sit, months later. I haven't heard a peep out of LW and the friends I have that know why he ended our friendship so abruptly have remained silent on the issue. A veil of silence, a veil of secrecy. Keep your lips sealed. Kevin must not know the truth! I did my part. I never, not once, asked Spira, Craig, or Foley, what they knew, even though I'm certain they know a lot. And lets not forget the other friends he discarded - chalk it up to collateral damage, I guess. More than a few had no idea he moved out west. I doubt he had any issue with them, but if I was the only one he didn't tell, well, then it would be even more obvious he had an issue with me. Remember, folks, we must keep this as quiet as possible. Collateral damage. Some innocents had to go down, but that's war.

Last night, Craig touched upon the matter a little bit, but without going into detail. Just a taste, a tiny sip.Not at my behest, mind you. He, along with any of my other friends who know the scoop, were put in an awkward position and I'm not about to make it any more awkward for them. Still, sometimes I wish someone would enlighten me, even just a little. You know, something other than pretending there's not a giant elephant in the room. Ah, but we must hold tight to our secrets. I respect that. I would probably do the same in their position. Besides, it's not up to them to be the voice of LW.

I never expected things to turn out this way. I considered LW to be one of my closest, if not the closest, friend I ever had. We had some good times. He would have been my best man if I got married. But now.... now he's dead to me, or more I'm dead to him. He cut the cord and that was that. Whatever it was that set him down this path, I have no idea. That's the other thing about this that frustrates me: What the fuck did I do? Really, I wracked my brain and can't think of anything I've done that would have warranted this. Either he was fed erroneous information by someone or mis-interpreted something I did. Or, maybe he was just sick of me and there wasn't any one thing. I don't know. Most likely, I never will.

People move on, we stray, we become less active in each other's lives. I get that. But this situation is something different. Talking with Craig last night, it pained me to hear that LW thought so little of me he felt the need to cut all ties with me. I don't want to have that effect on anyone, never mind one of my closest friends. It's too bad, especially as it was so one-sided.

My self esteem these days isn't where I'd like it to be, but it's not low enough to want to cut my wrists over this. I have enough to handle the loss of friendships like the one I had with LW. On the other hand, it doesn't make me feel great knowing that within the last two years, three of my closest friends had had enough of me. One, as you've read, did so in earnest, another in writing (that was pleasant), and another by avoiding me for a while. To their credit, the latter two at least thought enough of me to try to work through our issues.


As for LW, maybe we'll reconnect some day. I doubt it. I'm not sure I want to. He took years of tight friendship and ended it without a word. No chance for me to explain myself, if an explanation was called for. No chance to apologize, if an apology was warranted. No chance for anything. That was what he thought of our friendship. And his gate keepers help maintain the secrecy. Pretend nothing happened.

To that end, I will henceforth keep silent about LW. I will keep my thoughts and feelings to myself, or at least absent from this blog. Whatever my sins are, disowning my friends is not one of them. Friendships are a valuable commodity and worth fighting for. Whatever I said or did that led LW to his current position, can't be half as bad as his cutting good friends out of his life without a word. He was an essential part of my life for many years and I'm grateful for that. But things change, people move on. I wish him well, but I'm not going to dwell on the past. He certainly hasn't.

Take the skin and peel it back, now doesn't it make you feel better?

Spring has arrived and we're due for more snow. Been that kind of winter. I through in the towel a while ago. I'm numb to it all at this point. Anyway, it probably won't snow that much tonight. We'll see.

I spoke to Fred about ceasing his door slamming. Yes, Fred is a door slammer, though you would never suspect it by being around him. He's a pretty mellow dude. It took me a little bit to figure out the source of all the loud noise I was starting to hear on a consistent basis. Sounded like heavy things falling down hard. The walls of the house would shake with the force of it. I figured out it was Fred slamming doors right about the time Janelle mentioned it to me. When I told him about it, he seemed genuinely surprised, but agreed to be mindful about his door handling (Is that a pun of sorts? ).

Guy Maddin's Brand Upon The Brain arrived in the mail today. Got it super cheap. Know why? Because Guy Maddin makes unconventional films that most people don't care about, even though they should. Can't wait to watch it. Maddin's films are among the best I've ever seen. Inventive, unique, funny, surreal.... I could go on. I wish I had fellow fans of his I could talk to about his mastery. As with many other things in my, I walk this road alone. Sob!

I'm on book four of my Wheel of Time re-read. After I get through this mammoth tome, I've got eight more to go. Unless I devote significantly devote more time to reading, I'll probably finish next fall or winter. Will I keep it up? Who knows. It's been fun reading Leigh Butler's chapter by chapter summary/commentary of the series, though, and, like a coach, it's been keeping me consistent.

Enough out of me. I've got lyrics to work on, some Guy Maddin to watch, and....oh, yeah - there's a Celtics game on tonight. That last one, against the Knicks, was one of the best ones of the season. A brutal, bloody epic, t'was, with the C's emerging victorious. I've been noticing this team is almost universally disliked. The dislike extends to the local media. To wit, after the grandeur of the aforementioned epic against the Knicks, the local sports media, the radio jocks in particular, were putting them through the ringer for all sorts of perceived offenses. F you, haters! Write it down - that's the first time I've ever uttered the word haters in this blog. Uh, at least I think it is. Maybe you should go through the archives and find out.

Tonight I'm going to party like it's 1999

A busy week followed by a relaxing weekend. The show on Friday went well. The whole day was rather eventful. At work, Therese revealed to me she had given her notice. She'd found another job and while leaving would be bittersweet, she didn't want to pass on the opportunity. I'll miss her; she's a very sweet woman. I might even miss her epic, tangential, monologues. I say I might, but probably not.

Later, in the afternoon, I made a trip to the registry in Lawrence amidst the violent wind gusts. It was so bad it got me thinking about global warming and the various apocalyptic scenarios that are projected to arrive in the not too distant future. When I made it back to work, we lost power. No surprise - the wind, as I say, was violent. We left around three; the power, we learned, was not going to be back any time soon.

I drove up to Manchester with a bunch of free time before the show. I drove downtown and found the place where I'd be playing. I called Rachael to see if she and Mike were around. They were, so I drove the few blocks to their house and we hung out for a while. Rachael and I watched an far-fetched, but entirely entertaining documentary about the death of Paul McCartney. I'm sure you're aware, given all the clues peppered throughout Beatles records, that Paul died in a car crash and was replaced with a doppelganger. Well, this documentary confirms it. It seems, back when George Harrison was stabbed in a home invasion, he realized he should come clean about the truth of what happened with Paul. He spilled the beans onto a cassette and mailed it to a couple of documentary producers in California. They, in turn, took his narration of events made a documentary around it. Stunning stuff. George's voice sounds a bit... different, but I'm sure that was only because he was distressed when he recorded it. I recommend you watch this stunning piece of film. The world needs to know the truth!

After watching the doc, we went out for some Mexican food and then headed over to the club, which, in fact, was a massage parlor/salon. Never played a place like that. There was a good turnout. People brought chairs and blankets. The whole affair had a relaxed, intimate feel, which was nice, especially after the hassle of trying to find parking. I was more or less pleased with my set. Some mistakes, but, on the whole, I think I delivered.

Kate, Mike, Janelle, Michelle, Kristen, and I went out for drinks later on. Around midnight, we parted ways. I gave Kate a ride home and headed back to Somerville. I should have peed before I left. That was my only regret of the night. When I got on the highway, I really had to go. I contemplated my options. I could go find a gas station and use their bathroom, I could pull over and pee in the woods, or I could pee in a bottle. I chose the last option, but that proved to be too difficult. I just wanted to make it home, so I held it in and, when I got home, I could barely walk into the house. I peed for about three minutes straight.

Yesterday, I went to Trader Joe's for some groceries. At checkout, as I was about to pay, my cashier, a tiny woman, looked at me and said, "Next time, could you help me bag?" She lifted her hands, each of which was adorned with a black brace, and said "My hands are all messed up." She gave me this look that suggested I should figured this out on my own.

I was not expecting that. I said, "Uh, I'm sorry. I, uh...didn't notice." I had been lost in thought, my mind still a little hazy from sleep. I said what I said, but in hindsight, I wish I would have reacted differently. For example, I could have said something like:

"Well, now that I know your hands are all messed up and that you can't bag groceries, I will gladly offer assistance the next time around."

or

"That's not fair. While I saw that you were wearing braces on your hands, I could only assume that you were able to do your job without assistance. I've only ever seen you wearing them, and it didn't seem your ability to do your job was hindered in any way. For you to chastise me for not gleaning the extent of your condition and not offering assistance, is not fair. "

or

"If you can't do your job, which is to scan and bag groceries, then maybe you shouldn't be working here."

The last is more callous, I suppose, but really, I don't think it's good customer service to try and make a customer feel like shit for not helping out. Spira told me she would have told the woman, "Sure, I'll help you next time, if you give me some of your salary."

The funny thing is, I only had a two bag's worth of groceries and almost everything weighed less than a pound. We're talking lettuce, coffee, chips, etc. I was pissed afterward. I wished I had responded accordingly instead of apologizing. It's not that I wouldn't have helped her, but I fucking hate it when people act like that. I felt like saying to her, "Sorry, I would have helped you, but I have three broken ribs and can't lift anything without a tremendous amount of pain. The fact that you didn't notice that, saddens me deeply. You saw me carrying around this basket and you didn't offer me any help at all."

Ah, I let it all go, but I stewed over it for a while. I will avoid her like the plague next time, although a part of me would love to give her a piece of my mind.

Watched The Social Network. Good movie. When I first heard about it, it seemed like it would be a shitty movie. Then I heard how incredibly amazing it was. Then all the Oscar buzz. So, when I finally got around to watching it, I was expecting something incredible. It wasn't, but it was good. Not a movie I'm dying to see again, but good.

One movie I thought was incredible was Guy Maddin's The Saddest Music In The World. His films are like no other. I can't even express how they make me feel, which is a good thing.

Ok, I've got things to do. There is more, but I'll leave it for another time or let it fade into the ether.

And what about the voice of Geddy Lee, how did it get so high, I wonder if he speaks like an ordinary guy

Listening to Rush's 2112 as I type. Not widely considered great writing music, but what the hell. I watched the recent doc about the band, Beyond The Lighted Stage, last night. It was well done. I've been a fan of the band since I was a kid, but I realized while watching the doc that I knew very little about the people in the band. It was refreshing to learn they're well-adjusted, functioning individuals and far, far away from your cliched troubled rock stars. A writer recently referred to Rush fans as being music's equivalent to Trekkies. A good point, but Rush are way cooler than Star Trek. Let's see Captain Kirk write a song like Spirit of The Radio.

I'm watching the clock. If I'm to include a bunch of unfinished songs in my set this Friday, I better be about the business of finishing them. This means I probably shouldn't be doing what I'm doing right now. Better wrap it up, sayeth I.

Before I go, I'm going to share two things. One is tidbit from my weekend, the other a dream. Guess I'm not going to be wrapping things up just yet. I'll make it short and quick. Here goes.

Late morning yesterday, I decided to make a trip to Trader Joe's. I wanted to go fairly early in order to miss the traffic and also to get the chore out of the way so I could have the rest of the day to myself. Craig had stayed the night and was in the process of leaving. We both noticed that some idiot had parked right up to my car's ass. Since I was pulled up tight to the car in front of me, which happened to be Janelle's mother's, getting out was going to be a dubious affair. Get out I did, however, and it was actually fairly easy.

I drove through Davis Sq., directed by a few cops spaced out every fifty feet or so. The Square was shut down for some reason and I was lucky I got through. I made it to the store and noticed that Craig had called. I called him back and he told me he had a hell of time leaving my house. They had closed Broadway, which is nearby, but in the opposite direction I had traveled. Turned out there was a road race and driver's were being re-directed. Needless to say, Craig's trip took a bit longer than anticipated.

My return trip was similar. I made it to within a quarter mile of my house when I saw that the road leading there was closed. I drove further and further out of the way to find an open road to my house. Every road was closed. It was as if my house and the surrounding area were being quarantined. I gas light had already been on for a bit, so now I had to find a gas station. What a pain in the neck, that trip. I finally made it home about twenty minutes later. That incident, coupled with losing an hour to daylight savings, made yesterday more or less a lost day.

The dream. I only want to mention it because I've had several similar dreams. And by similar I mean almost exactly the same. So, I find myself boarding a plane with my father. We're headed to Florida. He rushed me on the plane before I had much time to think about it. A swell of panic arose within me, but it was too late to exit the plane. The doors had already closed and the plane was starting to move. I closed my eyes; I sought inner calm whilst avoiding looking at the plane take off. I felt the plane surge into the air; as we gained altitude, I felt that strange weightless feeling in the pit of my stomach, but it wasn't as uncomfortable as I'd remembered it. I opened my eyes and didn't feel so bad about being in the plane. On the contrary, I was looking forward to seeing Florida and actually enjoying the ride a little bit. I felt safe. The plane began to descend and I wondered why. We couldn't possibly be in Florida yet. I looked out the window and saw that we were flying over the streets of Cambridge. We landed on Memorial Drive and started picking up speed. Good, I thought. We'll be air born in no time and won't prolong the trip any further. I closed my eyes again, wanting to get through the long ascent as quickly as possible. After a couple of minutes, I opened my eyes. We were still on the road. The plane drove back to airport. I didn't mind so much because I had realized while on the plane that I had left a bag behind (the same bag, I just recalled, that I left behind at work today). I ran back home to get it. That was when I woke up.

Odd, but even the parts where the plane was driving on the road was the same as the other dreams. Almost everything was the same. The only thing I can think of that was different was my father being in the dream. I could pontificate over this, but I wanted to wrap this up several paragraphs ago. Psychoanalyze among yourselves. I'm outta here.

Love came to my door, with a sleeping roll, and a madman's soul

I learned about the earthquake/tsunami catastrophe on my way to work this morning. From what they were saying on the radio, the devastation was immense. At work, they told me about what it looked like on video, how apocalyptic it was. At home later on I saw for myself. Surreal and awful and a profound reminder of how, as much as we try to possess it, nature is immense and way much, much, more powerful than we as a species will ever be. My thoughts and prayers are with the Japanese.
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I'm pretty sure I had a dream about Rock n' Roll last night. And by Rock n' Roll, I'm referring to an old friend and not the style of music. Our mutual friend, The Kremlin, gave him that name and it stuck. I've known Rock n' Roll since high school. We were in a couple of bands together, vacationed together, worked together. I see him rarely these days. I'm okay with it and I'm sure he is, too, but we had some times I think fondly upon.
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I should be working on music tonight, but I may find myself watching The Social Network and/or the Celtics game. Or I could go hang out with Spira, but that probably won't happen. I really should work on music.

Ah, but I've been really digging my Wheel of Time re-read and may want to fit some of that into my night. This time around, I'm really taking note of how well written these books are. I have a low tolerance for poorly written books, which is why I don't read much from the fantasy genre these days. Much of it has the feel of something written by a nerdy high school kid. But Jordan, well, he had his flaws, but man could he spin a tale.

Despite it being Friday, I've had a day peppered with irritation. Things at work and some things concerning the household have been bugging the shit out of me. Yoga helped a bit. Perspective, must keep perspective.

Ever have someone describe a past event to you as if you weren't present, even though you were? You know what I'm talking about. Might go a little something like this: "Oh, man, that was such a great show. The band were on that night and me and Chris at one point looked at each other with these huge smiles, knowing we were witnessing something truly special. Such a great night; you should have been there." Uhh, but I was.

It's worse when the event in question turned out to be something special. You tend to have a crisper memory when it was something special. So, if someone doesn't recall your presence even when it was a truly memorable experience, well, that's grounds to feel a little bruised.

This type of thing has happened to me more than once, but not lately and not that many times. Not exactly sure why it came to mind, but I'm not going to pontificate over it all night. I've got things to do, son!

Cheers.

Times they are strange and I won't rearrange

I did more driving yesterday than I would have preferred. At work, Marcy told me one of us would have to go to the Rockingham registry in the afternoon. I told her I was going to my parent's house after work, which is in the opposite direction, and would be grateful to forgo the trip to the registry. Turned out, despite the fact that she lives close to the registry, Marcy wasn't able to go in my stead. I went and for a while my mood was foul, but I got over it and realized it wasn't such a trying ordeal.

Later, at my parent's house, we had a nice chicken dinner and some cake for dessert. It had been a few weeks since I'd seen them last and it was nice seeing them. Also bittersweet, as it tends to be these days, as we all get older and time runs out. I am more concerned with my parent's health these days. I fear losing them, but it will happen, whether they pass before me or vice versa. More and more my past feels like a dream. Last night, I sat at my parent's computer and thought about how the room in which I sat used to my bed room, from when I was still in swaddling clothes all the way up through high school. I grew up in that room, but, sitting there, I felt little association with it. The shore of the past grows tinier and tinier as I drift out to sea. I become untethered from what I knew.
--
I have to get cracking and get a set of songs assembled for next week's show. I'm hoping to have a new batch completed and ready to go by then. Got to bring my A-game for this one; it's going to be broadcast on the radio to perhaps tens of listeners (I kid. Could be tens, could be hundreds. I'm ill-informed on this matter. I'll find out at some point.). Anyway, I'm looking forward to it.

Look, I'm not going to lie to you: I'd like to get laid sometime soon. I'm just putting it out there, mostly because I've been, how should I say, rather horny lately. Call me crass, I don't care. It's a basic human need and basically, I need a little sumpin' sumpin'. I worry that if I go to long without, I may end up becoming far less discerning than I normally would be. And that outcome, my friends, is fraught with trouble. I guess there's nothing for it but to explore the prostitute option. I'm kidding......or am I? Hmm..... I have five bucks, I wonder how far that will get me. Maybe a hand shake. Better than nothing.

So, half of Canada wants to see Zdeno Chara put in shackles and, I don't know, put in front of a firing squad or hung from the neck, for his most terrible crime against humanity. To wit:



True story. After the game the other night, callers flooded Montreal's version of 911 with demands that Chara be arrested. Now, while the hit was a nasty one, is arresting the perpetrator perhaps a tad excessive? What a world we inhabit. If you ask me, I think Chara should be drawn and quartered in front of every person who cried for his head. Only then will they learn how unreasonable they all were. Either that, or their blood lust will be sated and they'll feel pretty good about themselves.

I found out that my five year old niece, Colleen, has been adding an exclamation point to her name every time she writes it. My sister asked her about it and she said, "I wanted my name to have eight letters." Cute, right? That is, once you overlook the fact that an exclamation point is not a letter (silly child). I'm going to steal her idea, but for a different reason: I want my to look exciting. Kevin!

Alright, Kevin! out this piece, y'all.

Some people call me Maurice, 'cause I speak of the pompatus of love

The Scorpion's Rock You Like A Hurricane came on the radio today and I stopped what I was doing for a moment, and found myself critiquing the lyrics. It was all done in the name of humor because the lyrics are pretty bad. I ate up a good three or four minutes with this exercise; mind you, it was at the expense of doing my job.

"My cat is purring/ She scratches my skin/ So What is wrong with another sin?"

It is evident the cat is a metaphor for a sexually invigorated woman. She is in heat. She scratches the narrator's skin, perhaps literally, to express her desire with the implied hope the narrator will become, if he isn't already, sexually charged, and play his part in the commencement of intercourse. Clearly this will be the case. The narrator offhandedly tosses out the question, " So what is wrong with another sin?", which illustrates his readiness to engage in sexual activity with his "cat" and also suggests he is A) conscious of religious ramifications, but doesn't them seriously (One could argue he does take them seriously by the mere fact he posed a question about sinning)and that B) he has sinned before. He asks what is wrong with another sin, but is clearly not interested in receiving an answer, which, among other things, would point out that if one sin is wrong, than another one would be as well. No, he has other things on his mind.

I broke most of the song down in this manner. Sometimes the mind wanders. It happens.

Fred seems to be fitting in well. He's affable and pretty mellow, which is just up our alley. Pooch Edward Bottoms has given him the wag of approval, so I think we're going to be alright. With the benefit of hindsight, I feel kind of lousy about taking money out of his wallet when he first moved in. Oh, well. It is what it is.

Had a good yoga session after work today. It helped, believe it or not, with the gastro-intestinal (sp?) issues I've been having recently. I haven't been in pain, and I haven't been farting a lot, but I've been gassy. The yoga seemed to have the effect of pushing all that gas-iness out of my system. Okay, it's obvious I need to wrap this post up. I'm sure you could have done without this entire paragraph.

Got the new Deerhoof and the latest Julianna Barwick album this weekend. Also picked up Steve Miller's greatest hits. All on the cheap, too. I had T Rex's Futuristic Dragon in my hands, but because I didn't know too much about it, decided to leave it be. I found out later that, in addition to having one of the most absurd, over the top, yet rocking-est covers I've ever seen, T Rex brought the ruckus with this one. I'll have to pick it up.


Tonight I'll try to make some progress with a couple of songs, read from The Dragon Reborn (again with the dragons), and, if there's time, which there probably won't be, watch a Guy Maddin film.

I've seen a million faces and I've rocked them all

I took a spill the other day during a run. It was the first in years which, given the amount of running I do in the snow and ice, is surprising. In other words, despite my laser reflexes, I've been lucky to have fallen only once. My left leg caught a patch of ice and down I went on my left side. I fell hard, but no damage, save a sore left side. I got up and continued my run. A woman walking toward me looked as if she wanted to ask me if I was alright. She kept quiet and I felt relieved. I don't want your pity, lady! I just wanted to move on as if nothing happened.

This incident brought to mind a story a coworker had told me a few years ago. He was walking between parking spaces at a liquor store and a car pulling in to a spot managed to pin him from the waist down into another car. Not wanting any attention, even in the midst of excrutiating pain, he refused to be taken to the hospital by the EMTs that showed up. He just wanted to go home. Later, his leg was swollen so bad he had to use scissors to get out of his pants. He drank a lot of whiskey to fight the pain and went to bed. He barely slept. The pain was so unbearable he wept like a baby. It wasn't until several hours later that he finally went to the hospital. Stubborn guy, that Gary. I worked with him at that lunatic warehouse I've written about. I'm pretty sure almost every person I ever worked with there was at least halfway insane. Another time, I'll have to recount how Gary's girlfriend, who worked with us, got drunk at our Christmas party and hit on me in almost every conceivable way.
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Not a bad week. Last night, I walked over to PJ Ryan's to visit with Bridget. On my way, I passed a Tibetan restaurant and my friend Melanie came to the window and beckoned me inside. Funny seeing her there. She doesn't live in town. Good seeing her, though. Now I want Tibetan food.

When I got home, I tuned in to the Celtics game. This is a truly special team and the way they took it to Phoenix last night was a sight to behold. I will miss these days when they eventually become mediocre like every team does.

Some good news. George R.R. Martin, author of one of the best series of books I've ever read, A Song of Ice And Fire, has finally, finally, finally finished the fifth and eagerly awaited fifth book in the series, A Dance With Dragons. It's been six years since he last put out a book. Way too long, but I'm thrilled - thrilled I say! - that I only have to wait until July to read the next one. Also, and this is something I'm equally excited about, HBO's adaptation of the series is set to air next month. Ok, I need to open a window or something - I'm about to pass out from giddiness.

And then there's Fleet Foxes new album, which should be out soon. And, thanks to Janelle getting tickets, we'll be seeing them live. Oh, my! There are other exciting things on the horizon, but the room is starting to spin, so I better back off.

Saw my first Guy Maddin film the other night and I really, really enjoyed it. Very inspiring. It was called Careful and I've never seen a movie quite like it. He uses old cameras and often shoots in Technicolor, so the film has an old-timey dreamy quality to it. And strange. Kind of like a cross between Werner Herzog and John Waters. Check out this preview for an idea of what I'm talking about.



I'm excited, because Netflix has a few more of his films on Watch Instantly, so, you know.....I'm go watch them.

Maybe, maybe I'll get to one of them tonight. With that, I'm off to greener pastures. I was going to riff on Charlie Sheen, but the hour is late, and I must be gone.