The Bruins just blew a 3-o lead in tonight's game and consequently blew a 3-0 lead in the series, something that's only happened a handful of times in professional sports. Ever. Heading into the playoffs, not much was expected of this team. Die hard fans were so disenchanted with them, they were hoping they didn't make the playoffs at all. When they did, and when they started playing so well they were hardly recognizable, and when they advanced out of the first round, fans started to believe again. Not much was expected of them, everything was gravy, and there was only one way to ruin the good feelings: blow a three game lead. Bruins fans have just been let down again, but like any victims of abuse, they will take the team back into their loving arms. They always do (I say they because, though I kept an eye on the team all year and watched most of their playoff run, I broke up with The Bruins years ago during a season in which the organization made a lot bad mistakes, the biggest and most painful being the Joe Thornton trade. I still cringe when I summon those dark, dark times.)
I had a feeling they were going to lose, so I read some Meister Eckhart with the game on mute, looking over every once in a while to see if they were playing well. They hardly ever were, so I focused on reading and drinking coffee. I'm not too distraught over the loss, especially since the Celtics schooled the Cavs last night and have advanced to the semifinals. After the game, the sports media locusts swarmed all over Lebron James. They skewered him good, even though he didn't have that bad a game, and questioned his heart, his mettle, his drive, you name it. They dissected every word he said and searched for hidden meanings. I heard Michael Holley say on the radio the other day that those in the sports media shouldn't read too deeply into what athletes say. More often than not, they say what they mean. I watched Lebron's press conference after the game. He was well spoken, direct, even-tempered. Most of the sports media, however, thought otherwise. To them, he had become a selfish, ego maniacal, quitter, and all around bad guy. They prop you up, and they tear you down.
--
I wanted to write about a dream I had and how it got me pondering death and change, among other things, but it's getting late and I'm gassed. I want to watch The Office and perhaps 30 Rock or Lost and read some Drood or Meister Eckhart. Perhaps tomorrow at some point I'll write about that dream. In preparation, I suggest you get at least twelve hours of sleep and brew a potent pot of coffee. This one could be a yawner.
I know, I'm a shameless self promoter.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Thursday, May 13, 2010
This is the strangest life I've ever known
I went in to work early this morning so that I could record some documents for a law firm next door. Time was of the essence, or so we were told. The idea was for me to come in, grab the documents and head up to Nashua, where they needed to be recorded. When I arrived, they hadn't been delivered to our office yet. Finally, an hour and a half later, they showed up. And I took flight.
My time at the registry was gratifying. Part of it had to do with the fact that the staff made my life a lot easier by helping me out of a couple of jams , the details of which I won't bore you with. Linda being flirty didn't hurt, either. And the coup de grace was running into my aunt and uncle (really my dad's cousin and his wife, but they've always been more like my aunt and uncle).
I was sitting at one of the computers in the research working very, very hard, because that's what I do at all times, when I felt a hand on my shoulder followed by "Kevin? Oh my God, it is you!"
I turned around and saw Linda and Steve and couldn't believe it. They live in Harvard, MA, I see them maybe once or twice a year. Running into them at the Registry of Deeds in Nashua, NH, was pretty effing random. They were tracking down the chain of title for a bit of property they were about to purchase. I did the work for them - only took a few minutes - because the computer system up there is a nightmare for the uninitiated and they would have been there forever trying to navigate it. Linda was thrilled at her good fortune at running into someone who could help them and offered to take me to lunch. I would have taken them up on the offer, especially since they're easygoing, affable, people, but I was on the clock and needed to finish up some work. Strange seeing them there, but I'm glad I did.
Leaving the registry, I called my mom to tell her about what happened. At first, she thought I was calling in response to the email she sent me this morning. "Nope, didn't get your email. What's up?", I said.
"Well, Nana's in the hospital. She fell down and fractured her pelvis." Bad news. Not ten minutes earlier, Linda had asked me how my grandmother was doing. I told her, truthfully, that she was doing great, better than ever. Guess I spoke too soon.
-
Yesterday, I came home from work, did some yoga, and then left to see Foley's band play at Block 11 in Union Square. I stopped at Mara's place first to drop off a check Foley had asked me to give her and ended up hanging out with her roommate Jessica for a bit (Mara was at school). Block 11 was only a mile or so up the street; I figured I still had time to see the band. I was wrong. I misjudged. When I arrived at the coffeehouse, the band was packing up. Fuck! I thought another band was playing before them. Nope. Oh, well. I apologized, helped them pack up their gear, grabbed a coffee to go, and headed home.
-
The Celtics game tonight should be interesting. The C's pulverized Lebron and company last game so bad that the next day everyone in the sports media was hollering about how much Lebron blew it. Many took it further and declared Lebron a perennial loser and phony. As much as I want the Celtics to win, I think the reaction to Lebron's poor play has been way too overblown. It's one game, people. I predict, and I hope I'm wrong, Lebron is going to play out of his freaking mind tonight. Like I said, I hope I'm wrong. If the Celtics win, they move on to Orlando and Cleveland goes home. And Lebron will most likely have seen his last game in a Cavs uniform. Tonight will be a nail biter. After the Bruins decided to blow a three game lead in their series against Philly, I don't think my pure heart can take two game sevens. The Celtics need to win tonight.
-
And with that, I leave you. To quote Ice Cube, one of Hip Hop's elder statesmen, today was a good day.
My time at the registry was gratifying. Part of it had to do with the fact that the staff made my life a lot easier by helping me out of a couple of jams , the details of which I won't bore you with. Linda being flirty didn't hurt, either. And the coup de grace was running into my aunt and uncle (really my dad's cousin and his wife, but they've always been more like my aunt and uncle).
I was sitting at one of the computers in the research working very, very hard, because that's what I do at all times, when I felt a hand on my shoulder followed by "Kevin? Oh my God, it is you!"
I turned around and saw Linda and Steve and couldn't believe it. They live in Harvard, MA, I see them maybe once or twice a year. Running into them at the Registry of Deeds in Nashua, NH, was pretty effing random. They were tracking down the chain of title for a bit of property they were about to purchase. I did the work for them - only took a few minutes - because the computer system up there is a nightmare for the uninitiated and they would have been there forever trying to navigate it. Linda was thrilled at her good fortune at running into someone who could help them and offered to take me to lunch. I would have taken them up on the offer, especially since they're easygoing, affable, people, but I was on the clock and needed to finish up some work. Strange seeing them there, but I'm glad I did.
Leaving the registry, I called my mom to tell her about what happened. At first, she thought I was calling in response to the email she sent me this morning. "Nope, didn't get your email. What's up?", I said.
"Well, Nana's in the hospital. She fell down and fractured her pelvis." Bad news. Not ten minutes earlier, Linda had asked me how my grandmother was doing. I told her, truthfully, that she was doing great, better than ever. Guess I spoke too soon.
-
Yesterday, I came home from work, did some yoga, and then left to see Foley's band play at Block 11 in Union Square. I stopped at Mara's place first to drop off a check Foley had asked me to give her and ended up hanging out with her roommate Jessica for a bit (Mara was at school). Block 11 was only a mile or so up the street; I figured I still had time to see the band. I was wrong. I misjudged. When I arrived at the coffeehouse, the band was packing up. Fuck! I thought another band was playing before them. Nope. Oh, well. I apologized, helped them pack up their gear, grabbed a coffee to go, and headed home.
-
The Celtics game tonight should be interesting. The C's pulverized Lebron and company last game so bad that the next day everyone in the sports media was hollering about how much Lebron blew it. Many took it further and declared Lebron a perennial loser and phony. As much as I want the Celtics to win, I think the reaction to Lebron's poor play has been way too overblown. It's one game, people. I predict, and I hope I'm wrong, Lebron is going to play out of his freaking mind tonight. Like I said, I hope I'm wrong. If the Celtics win, they move on to Orlando and Cleveland goes home. And Lebron will most likely have seen his last game in a Cavs uniform. Tonight will be a nail biter. After the Bruins decided to blow a three game lead in their series against Philly, I don't think my pure heart can take two game sevens. The Celtics need to win tonight.
-
And with that, I leave you. To quote Ice Cube, one of Hip Hop's elder statesmen, today was a good day.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
It's all you need, so believe me honey, it aint a crime to be good to yourself
I guess it's a good problem to have, but I've reached a log jam of sorts with recording. I've got a welter of songs I can put down, but my progress is slow. Since I purchased my 8-track, I've done a lot of recording, but nothing is complete. Frustrating, but I'm plugging away.
I'm not going to lie to you - Paranormal Activity spooked me a bit, enough that it affected my sleep pattern. Mind you, I wasn't trembling under the covers like Shaggy, or his pal, Scooby Doo, but I did tend to be hyper-sensitive to any noise I heard. Spira, who has had her own paranormal issues and is a world class chicken baby when it comes to scary movies, should definitely not watch this film, though I must admit I'd love to convince her to watch it with me just so I can get off on watching her get scared. I know, I'm a cruel man, but remember: my heart is as pure as the driven snow.
Most "scary" movies don't scare me much. To this day, The Exorcist and Rosemary's Baby creep me out. The Blair Witch Project spooked me a bit, too, but that was more of a one trick pony I think (I'll find out soon if I'm correct. I bought it on DVD a couple of years ago for like three bucks and still haven't watched it. I'll have to do something about that). The Shining used to scare me, but when I watched it recently, I still found it unsettling, but it didn't leave me with that heavy dark feeling the way the aforementioned movies do.
For a movie to have a shot at spooking me, it should be as realistic as possible, and by realistic I mean the presentation and not the subject matter. And don't show and tell me everything; give away as few secrets as possible. Our imaginations can conjure far worse frights than what we see on the screen. That's why Jaws was so effective. Paranormal Activity would have been a joke if its demon was visible, was known. And the more we knew about it, the less scary it would become. In one regard, the movie worked because the main characters and, by extension the viewers, had no idea what it was exactly that was terrorizing them. It's hard to rationalize something beyond our ken. So, yes, I was a bit spooked by the movie, despite the kind of lame ending (I won't spoil it, but, while it wasn't bad, I wish they would have gone with the alternate ending that was on the DVD. It was a much braver and more appropriate choice)
The Celtics are on. Rondo's performance in the Mother's Day game was jaw dropping, but I think Lebron and company are going to bring the pain to the C's tonight. I hope I'm wrong. I thought the Bruins were going to clinch their series against the Flyers, but they played undisciplined, lazy hockey and lost the game handily as a result. I'd hate for them to blow a three game lead and lose the series. That would make me feel all sorts of lousy.
Man, have I been horny. I won't say anything beyond that, but it needed to be said. Really? It needed to be said, you ask? Ok, you got me: it didn't need to be said, but I said it and you're just going to have to deal with it. You can ignore it, try to help me in some way (remember I'm straight, gentleman), or be disgusted at how crass and immoral I am. I suggest you shoot for all three options.
No, I won't elaborate on the details concerning my being "in heat". Instead, I'll go off quietly and dump about fifty pounds of ice in the tub and cool off. And then, having shocked the life out of my libido, I'll watch some Celtics a new and duller man.
I'm not going to lie to you - Paranormal Activity spooked me a bit, enough that it affected my sleep pattern. Mind you, I wasn't trembling under the covers like Shaggy, or his pal, Scooby Doo, but I did tend to be hyper-sensitive to any noise I heard. Spira, who has had her own paranormal issues and is a world class chicken baby when it comes to scary movies, should definitely not watch this film, though I must admit I'd love to convince her to watch it with me just so I can get off on watching her get scared. I know, I'm a cruel man, but remember: my heart is as pure as the driven snow.
Most "scary" movies don't scare me much. To this day, The Exorcist and Rosemary's Baby creep me out. The Blair Witch Project spooked me a bit, too, but that was more of a one trick pony I think (I'll find out soon if I'm correct. I bought it on DVD a couple of years ago for like three bucks and still haven't watched it. I'll have to do something about that). The Shining used to scare me, but when I watched it recently, I still found it unsettling, but it didn't leave me with that heavy dark feeling the way the aforementioned movies do.
For a movie to have a shot at spooking me, it should be as realistic as possible, and by realistic I mean the presentation and not the subject matter. And don't show and tell me everything; give away as few secrets as possible. Our imaginations can conjure far worse frights than what we see on the screen. That's why Jaws was so effective. Paranormal Activity would have been a joke if its demon was visible, was known. And the more we knew about it, the less scary it would become. In one regard, the movie worked because the main characters and, by extension the viewers, had no idea what it was exactly that was terrorizing them. It's hard to rationalize something beyond our ken. So, yes, I was a bit spooked by the movie, despite the kind of lame ending (I won't spoil it, but, while it wasn't bad, I wish they would have gone with the alternate ending that was on the DVD. It was a much braver and more appropriate choice)
The Celtics are on. Rondo's performance in the Mother's Day game was jaw dropping, but I think Lebron and company are going to bring the pain to the C's tonight. I hope I'm wrong. I thought the Bruins were going to clinch their series against the Flyers, but they played undisciplined, lazy hockey and lost the game handily as a result. I'd hate for them to blow a three game lead and lose the series. That would make me feel all sorts of lousy.
Man, have I been horny. I won't say anything beyond that, but it needed to be said. Really? It needed to be said, you ask? Ok, you got me: it didn't need to be said, but I said it and you're just going to have to deal with it. You can ignore it, try to help me in some way (remember I'm straight, gentleman), or be disgusted at how crass and immoral I am. I suggest you shoot for all three options.
No, I won't elaborate on the details concerning my being "in heat". Instead, I'll go off quietly and dump about fifty pounds of ice in the tub and cool off. And then, having shocked the life out of my libido, I'll watch some Celtics a new and duller man.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
I believe in freedom, freedom is apparently all I need, but who's ever been free in this world, who has never had to bleed in this world?
Went to my grandmother's house for Mother's Day. There were plenty of mothers there, to be sure, and plenty of children running about. With the inclusion of my aunt and uncle who flew up from PA, nearly the entire extended family was present. A good time, better than the last get together, but still, I'm the oddball in that lot. After talking and thinking about conformity and how it suffocates the artist recently, I didn't feel so bad. A lonelier, bumpier, ride through life, but far less ordinary and confining.
Yesterday, I picked up the Jonsi record, Buffalo Springfield's sophomore effort, and a wonderful surprise: the new album by Rufus Wainwright. Without hesitation, I grabbed a copy. I first heard him at a record store years ago. There was a listening station there where you could sample select new artists. I plopped on the headphones, read a brief description of who this Rufus Wainwright person I was about to listen to was, and pressed play. I didn't know what to expect. After the first song, I took off the headphones and immediately set about purchasing the CD. I had been blown away by what I heard.
I listened to that album, his debut, exclusively for months. The songwriting, his voice, the instrumentation - everything - spoke to me in a way music hadn't spoken to me in a long time. I spread to the word about Rufus to everyone I thought would like him. A majority of them did. To this day, Janelle and Spira are still big fans. I listened to that album constantly. I wore that son of a bitch out.
I awaited his subsequent albums with an eagerness I rarely exhibited with other music. A new Rufus offering was a big deal to me. I liked some better than others, sometimes I wished he'd chosen another direction with a song or two, but always, always his albums never failed to deliver. So when I discovered he'd put out a new one without me knowing about it in advance, I was thrilled.
I listened to it a couple of times yesterday. Just piano and vocals and a more somber tone than his last couple of albums. He recorded it while his mother, his best friend, was dying of cancer.
Late last night, as I lay in bed about to go to sleep, I reached for my iPod and listened to it again, figuring I'd fall asleep during the first song or two. Nope. I made it all the way to the end, wide awake when I got there.
This is a special album. I'm astounded at how advanced his songwriting has grown. He's on top of his game in every conceivable way. I predict I'm going to be learning much from this album for a long time to come. All Days Are Nights : Songs For Lulu it's called, and I'm enchanted.
-
Hung out with Spira last night. We got some Brazilian food, talked, and watched some 30
Rock episodes. She asked me if I'd take Missy, her lovely greyhound, out for a walk tomorrow and feed her. I consented. As I left, the two ladies accompanied me, as it was time for Missy's last walk of the night. It was freezing out and I was wearing shorts and flip flops. I walked with them for a bit before the cold and stabbing wind became too much.
"No, don't leave yet", Spira said. "I have to show you wear Missy poops."
"Does it really matter where she poops?", I responded through chattering teeth.
"Yes, she has a particular place she likes to go. C'mon, don't be a baby."
"Easy for you to say, all bundled up. How far ahead is this 'particular place' ?"
She pointed to a position about a hundred feet ahead. "We take a right at that little hill", she said.
No, you take a right at that little hill, I thought. I'm getting into my car and cranking the heat.
And you know what? That's exactly what I did.
The End.
Yesterday, I picked up the Jonsi record, Buffalo Springfield's sophomore effort, and a wonderful surprise: the new album by Rufus Wainwright. Without hesitation, I grabbed a copy. I first heard him at a record store years ago. There was a listening station there where you could sample select new artists. I plopped on the headphones, read a brief description of who this Rufus Wainwright person I was about to listen to was, and pressed play. I didn't know what to expect. After the first song, I took off the headphones and immediately set about purchasing the CD. I had been blown away by what I heard.
I listened to that album, his debut, exclusively for months. The songwriting, his voice, the instrumentation - everything - spoke to me in a way music hadn't spoken to me in a long time. I spread to the word about Rufus to everyone I thought would like him. A majority of them did. To this day, Janelle and Spira are still big fans. I listened to that album constantly. I wore that son of a bitch out.
I awaited his subsequent albums with an eagerness I rarely exhibited with other music. A new Rufus offering was a big deal to me. I liked some better than others, sometimes I wished he'd chosen another direction with a song or two, but always, always his albums never failed to deliver. So when I discovered he'd put out a new one without me knowing about it in advance, I was thrilled.
I listened to it a couple of times yesterday. Just piano and vocals and a more somber tone than his last couple of albums. He recorded it while his mother, his best friend, was dying of cancer.
Late last night, as I lay in bed about to go to sleep, I reached for my iPod and listened to it again, figuring I'd fall asleep during the first song or two. Nope. I made it all the way to the end, wide awake when I got there.
This is a special album. I'm astounded at how advanced his songwriting has grown. He's on top of his game in every conceivable way. I predict I'm going to be learning much from this album for a long time to come. All Days Are Nights : Songs For Lulu it's called, and I'm enchanted.
-
Hung out with Spira last night. We got some Brazilian food, talked, and watched some 30
Rock episodes. She asked me if I'd take Missy, her lovely greyhound, out for a walk tomorrow and feed her. I consented. As I left, the two ladies accompanied me, as it was time for Missy's last walk of the night. It was freezing out and I was wearing shorts and flip flops. I walked with them for a bit before the cold and stabbing wind became too much.
"No, don't leave yet", Spira said. "I have to show you wear Missy poops."
"Does it really matter where she poops?", I responded through chattering teeth.
"Yes, she has a particular place she likes to go. C'mon, don't be a baby."
"Easy for you to say, all bundled up. How far ahead is this 'particular place' ?"
She pointed to a position about a hundred feet ahead. "We take a right at that little hill", she said.
No, you take a right at that little hill, I thought. I'm getting into my car and cranking the heat.
And you know what? That's exactly what I did.
The End.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Rejoice, rejoice, we had no choice
Met up with Janelle at the House of Blues last night to see Jonsi perform. Jonsi is the front man of Sigor Ros, a band I like very much, and has been touring in support of his first solo album. We had box seats in the balcony and, man, what a show! At the rear of the stage, there were hung diaphanous screens on which animated images, that seemed to be pulled directly from someones archetypal dreams, were projected. Wolves hunting; owls and butterflies in flight; flames devouring the screen (So realistic: shades of that terrible night club fire in Rhode Island); gray, bleak, forests: All rendered in deeply moving artistic fashion.
Great show! Loved the music, the visuals, everything. The last song was a cathartic wash of sound and visuals. The music, delicate and spacious at first, slowly built in intensity until the entire hall was saturated in feedback, white noise, howling wind and lighting. Very intense and something I won't too soon forget.
Seeing the show was all Janelle's idea. Having been working less hours lately, money has been tight. Spending money on the show would have cramped my wallet's style a bit, but Janelle bought me a ticket as an early birthday present. Very sweet of her. Any of you interested in doling out early birthday presents my way, I'm not adverse to the idea at all. Bring 'em on, folks.
Driving home afterward, safely distanced from the post Red Sox game calamity, my GPS became frazzled at all the dopey twists and turns and lights and one way streets and work crews and on ramps and off ramps that occur almost all at once in Boston. It had been spot on every time I'd used it prior, but the city was too much for her. One minute it was calmly telling me where to go and the next minute it shuts up and some weird, fuzzy map of the city appeared on the screen. Look, I'm not angry or disappointed: Boston's a hell of a dizzying city to drive around in and has unnerved the best of us. You're still my boo, GPS.
-
It's Friday night, but I'm staying local. Why? Bruins, Celtics, The Office, recording music, Lost, and Baby Boy Z.
That's why.
Great show! Loved the music, the visuals, everything. The last song was a cathartic wash of sound and visuals. The music, delicate and spacious at first, slowly built in intensity until the entire hall was saturated in feedback, white noise, howling wind and lighting. Very intense and something I won't too soon forget.
Seeing the show was all Janelle's idea. Having been working less hours lately, money has been tight. Spending money on the show would have cramped my wallet's style a bit, but Janelle bought me a ticket as an early birthday present. Very sweet of her. Any of you interested in doling out early birthday presents my way, I'm not adverse to the idea at all. Bring 'em on, folks.
Driving home afterward, safely distanced from the post Red Sox game calamity, my GPS became frazzled at all the dopey twists and turns and lights and one way streets and work crews and on ramps and off ramps that occur almost all at once in Boston. It had been spot on every time I'd used it prior, but the city was too much for her. One minute it was calmly telling me where to go and the next minute it shuts up and some weird, fuzzy map of the city appeared on the screen. Look, I'm not angry or disappointed: Boston's a hell of a dizzying city to drive around in and has unnerved the best of us. You're still my boo, GPS.
-
It's Friday night, but I'm staying local. Why? Bruins, Celtics, The Office, recording music, Lost, and Baby Boy Z.
That's why.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
All I want is the truth, just give me the truth
By my tally, I almost got into about eight car accidents today. I had three close calls on my way to work, three more while driving to Lowell and Nashua, and at least four more on my way home. Most were just bad luck situations; I couldn't really fault myself or the other drivers. What the fuck? Oh, and I got a $120 speeding ticket. I am absolutely going to contest it. No, not the best day for driving, but I'm in one piece, so, you know, it could have gone a lot worse. Needless to say, I don't plan on doing any driving tonight lest I tempt the fates too much.
Going to watch the Bruins pretty soon. Sports-wise, this is my favorite time of the year. I've got both the Celtics and Bruins in the playoffs and since basketball and hockey are my favorite sports, I'd be watching the playoffs if those teams weren't in it. Soon will come the dog days, when only baseball will be present. Yawn. It's sacrilege around these parts not to be a rabid Red Sox fan, but I'm not. I appreciate the team and the sport of baseball, but I just don't have the time or the inclination to devote the time and energy necessary to be a full fledged fan. Plus, hockey and basketball are way more fun to watch (Easy, Red Sox Nation- still your hand! Not everyone has the same zeal as you. I still love you, though).
--
That song I've been working on, the one I recently wrote about having a breakthrough with, well, it's coming along, but the going is slow. I'm trying to craft some lyrics that I'm happy with, but it's taking some time. I'm like Def Leppard with their Hysteria album. Hopefully, though, it won't take me six years to complete this song.
You're a prayer uncoiled slow
I want to see your skyline grow
The summer breaks, the summer bleeds
I've got a pair of summer eyes to read
That's what I've got so far. Maybe tonight inspiration will wash over me.
-
Last night I watched Public Enemies, Michael Mann's biopic about John Dillinger. I've always enjoyed Mann's films, even though they often border on being too slick for my tastes, but with Public Enemies, he brought his craft to new heights. There was so much visual poetry in this film that, if I didn't know better, I would have bet Baby Boy Z and my pure heart that I was watching a Terrence Mallick offering. Great cast, too. Johnny Depp - need I say more?
-
Back to baseball. I find it disturbing that so many people are either nonplussed by, or completely in support of, that kid being tazed for running onto the field at a Phillies game. I just watched the clip. There were four or five guys chasing him as he zigged and zagged like a merry dufus. Did he need to be tazed? Really? Seems to me they could have easily apprehended him -- it's not like it's never been done before - and avoided frying his insides. Did the punishment fit the crime?
Our society is so hyper-vigilant about being politically correct to the point where almost every week someone is apologizing for one ridiculous thing or another, but when it comes to physical violence, like tazing, well, that's fine. The fucker probably deserved it, we say. Can you spell desensitization? (Actually, I almost had to spell check it myself). I don't know, maybe I'm overreacting. Maybe I should be tazed.
Going to watch the Bruins pretty soon. Sports-wise, this is my favorite time of the year. I've got both the Celtics and Bruins in the playoffs and since basketball and hockey are my favorite sports, I'd be watching the playoffs if those teams weren't in it. Soon will come the dog days, when only baseball will be present. Yawn. It's sacrilege around these parts not to be a rabid Red Sox fan, but I'm not. I appreciate the team and the sport of baseball, but I just don't have the time or the inclination to devote the time and energy necessary to be a full fledged fan. Plus, hockey and basketball are way more fun to watch (Easy, Red Sox Nation- still your hand! Not everyone has the same zeal as you. I still love you, though).
--
That song I've been working on, the one I recently wrote about having a breakthrough with, well, it's coming along, but the going is slow. I'm trying to craft some lyrics that I'm happy with, but it's taking some time. I'm like Def Leppard with their Hysteria album. Hopefully, though, it won't take me six years to complete this song.
You're a prayer uncoiled slow
I want to see your skyline grow
The summer breaks, the summer bleeds
I've got a pair of summer eyes to read
That's what I've got so far. Maybe tonight inspiration will wash over me.
-
Last night I watched Public Enemies, Michael Mann's biopic about John Dillinger. I've always enjoyed Mann's films, even though they often border on being too slick for my tastes, but with Public Enemies, he brought his craft to new heights. There was so much visual poetry in this film that, if I didn't know better, I would have bet Baby Boy Z and my pure heart that I was watching a Terrence Mallick offering. Great cast, too. Johnny Depp - need I say more?
-
Back to baseball. I find it disturbing that so many people are either nonplussed by, or completely in support of, that kid being tazed for running onto the field at a Phillies game. I just watched the clip. There were four or five guys chasing him as he zigged and zagged like a merry dufus. Did he need to be tazed? Really? Seems to me they could have easily apprehended him -- it's not like it's never been done before - and avoided frying his insides. Did the punishment fit the crime?
Our society is so hyper-vigilant about being politically correct to the point where almost every week someone is apologizing for one ridiculous thing or another, but when it comes to physical violence, like tazing, well, that's fine. The fucker probably deserved it, we say. Can you spell desensitization? (Actually, I almost had to spell check it myself). I don't know, maybe I'm overreacting. Maybe I should be tazed.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Sometimes I feel like I've been tied to the whipping post, good lord I feel like I'm dying
I am tired and hot and a little hungover. My motor skills have been lagging behind all day, just a fraction of a second, but enough to be noticeable. With that in mind, this may be a disjointed, plodding post. We shall see.
I went to two gatherings yesterday. The first was a Jack and Jill for Jaegan and April, who are about to get married in a couple of months. Leading up to the event, I had more than a few people give me a puzzled look when I told him where I was going. "What's a Jack and Jill?", they asked. I'd never been to one myself, but I assumed most other people had been. Evidently, I was wrong.
I had a good time. The event was held at The Peddler's Daughter, an Irish pub adjacent to a canal up in Nashua. Shortly after Janelle and I arrived, I walked up to the bar to get a beer. The bartender didn't appear to be that busy, but it took her a while to come over to me. In the meantime, I got an earful from the barfly sitting next to me. Always an iffy proposition, engaging in a conversation with a talkative drunk when you're completely sober. Fortunately, this young man was affable and lucid enough to carry on a decent conversation, but I wasn't there to see him and when the bartender brought over my beer, I was set to hightail it out of there. The bartender made that difficult for me by walking away before I could pay her. That meant more time with my new, chatty friend. A minute or two later, when I finally caught her attention and said "Can I pay for this?", she came over and swiped my money and gave me a look as if I had just called her a wretched whore. I probably should have just walked away without paying, but my pure heart wouldn't have it.
It was nice seeing my New Hampshire friends. Good people, every one of them. Around five, Janelle and I left and made our way back to the city so that we could sneak into Spira's condo and set up for the surprise party we were throwing her. Janelle had done most of the prep work and organizing, but we had help from Kat and Pam and Brad, who kept Spira away from the house while we set up.
Everything worked out well. A good amount of people showed up and Spira was genuinely surprised when she walked in the door. She had a great time. So did the rest of us. Well, all of us except one woman, who's identity I won't reveal here in the off chance she someday reads this. She ended up passed out in the bathroom for a long time. I was surprised at her rapid decline; she seemed fine enough to me when I was talking with her, but it's not always easy to determine when someone is half, or all the way, in the bag. A few of us made up a little bed for her and she ended up crashing there instead of going home. Good choice.
Aviv saved me from sharing the same fate. I had poured myself a tall glass of one of Janelle's tasty mixed drinks and was about halfway through it when he pointed out that there was a lot of alcohol in the drink and that maybe it would be a good idea, especially since I would be driving later, to pace myself. I'm such a neophyte when it comes to mixed drinks that I most certainly would have polished off the drink and maybe another one before I realized that I was hammered.
After the party, I stayed up with Rachel, who crashed at our place, until about four thirty in the morning. She had a wedding to shoot at eleven this morning; I bet she would have rather stayed in bed. She's a trooper, though, and doesn't let a little lost sleep debilitate her. Rachael is one of my favorite people and I'm glad she came down.
It was disappointing to both Janelle and I that several people who could have come to the party, people who go a long way back with Spira, elected not to bother. And one individual, who I thought was still close with Spira, even though he's cut a good number of the rest of us out of his life for reasons known only to him, didn't even have the inclination to respond to the invitation we sent out.
Look, I'm not oblivious to the fact that there are inevitable shifts in dynamics in friendships, especially ones that have lasted a long time. I know that some people aren't as close with Spira as maybe she, or other people, think they are. That's fine, it's what happens in life. It's just that there were a few excuses for not going that were downright lame. This was her 40th birthday party, a bigger deal than other birthdays for many people, and it would have been nice to see more of an effort. Fortunately, I won't have to deal with this situation, because the world will end long before I turn 40. At least that's what my astrologist told me.
It was Open Studios in Somerville this weekend. Every year, local artists open up their homes or studios to the public and display their work. This morning, I walked over to Vernon Street, where Mara and Jessica each have studios, and paid a visit. I hung out with Mara for a bit and then made my upstairs to see Jessica. We hung out for a while - she was hungover, in rougher shape than me and was praying for the day to wrap up quickly. I told her I would take an extra long nap in honor of her. And you know what? I did. What a good person I am. Is sainthood in my future?
You bet.
I went to two gatherings yesterday. The first was a Jack and Jill for Jaegan and April, who are about to get married in a couple of months. Leading up to the event, I had more than a few people give me a puzzled look when I told him where I was going. "What's a Jack and Jill?", they asked. I'd never been to one myself, but I assumed most other people had been. Evidently, I was wrong.
I had a good time. The event was held at The Peddler's Daughter, an Irish pub adjacent to a canal up in Nashua. Shortly after Janelle and I arrived, I walked up to the bar to get a beer. The bartender didn't appear to be that busy, but it took her a while to come over to me. In the meantime, I got an earful from the barfly sitting next to me. Always an iffy proposition, engaging in a conversation with a talkative drunk when you're completely sober. Fortunately, this young man was affable and lucid enough to carry on a decent conversation, but I wasn't there to see him and when the bartender brought over my beer, I was set to hightail it out of there. The bartender made that difficult for me by walking away before I could pay her. That meant more time with my new, chatty friend. A minute or two later, when I finally caught her attention and said "Can I pay for this?", she came over and swiped my money and gave me a look as if I had just called her a wretched whore. I probably should have just walked away without paying, but my pure heart wouldn't have it.
It was nice seeing my New Hampshire friends. Good people, every one of them. Around five, Janelle and I left and made our way back to the city so that we could sneak into Spira's condo and set up for the surprise party we were throwing her. Janelle had done most of the prep work and organizing, but we had help from Kat and Pam and Brad, who kept Spira away from the house while we set up.
Everything worked out well. A good amount of people showed up and Spira was genuinely surprised when she walked in the door. She had a great time. So did the rest of us. Well, all of us except one woman, who's identity I won't reveal here in the off chance she someday reads this. She ended up passed out in the bathroom for a long time. I was surprised at her rapid decline; she seemed fine enough to me when I was talking with her, but it's not always easy to determine when someone is half, or all the way, in the bag. A few of us made up a little bed for her and she ended up crashing there instead of going home. Good choice.
Aviv saved me from sharing the same fate. I had poured myself a tall glass of one of Janelle's tasty mixed drinks and was about halfway through it when he pointed out that there was a lot of alcohol in the drink and that maybe it would be a good idea, especially since I would be driving later, to pace myself. I'm such a neophyte when it comes to mixed drinks that I most certainly would have polished off the drink and maybe another one before I realized that I was hammered.
After the party, I stayed up with Rachel, who crashed at our place, until about four thirty in the morning. She had a wedding to shoot at eleven this morning; I bet she would have rather stayed in bed. She's a trooper, though, and doesn't let a little lost sleep debilitate her. Rachael is one of my favorite people and I'm glad she came down.
It was disappointing to both Janelle and I that several people who could have come to the party, people who go a long way back with Spira, elected not to bother. And one individual, who I thought was still close with Spira, even though he's cut a good number of the rest of us out of his life for reasons known only to him, didn't even have the inclination to respond to the invitation we sent out.
Look, I'm not oblivious to the fact that there are inevitable shifts in dynamics in friendships, especially ones that have lasted a long time. I know that some people aren't as close with Spira as maybe she, or other people, think they are. That's fine, it's what happens in life. It's just that there were a few excuses for not going that were downright lame. This was her 40th birthday party, a bigger deal than other birthdays for many people, and it would have been nice to see more of an effort. Fortunately, I won't have to deal with this situation, because the world will end long before I turn 40. At least that's what my astrologist told me.
It was Open Studios in Somerville this weekend. Every year, local artists open up their homes or studios to the public and display their work. This morning, I walked over to Vernon Street, where Mara and Jessica each have studios, and paid a visit. I hung out with Mara for a bit and then made my upstairs to see Jessica. We hung out for a while - she was hungover, in rougher shape than me and was praying for the day to wrap up quickly. I told her I would take an extra long nap in honor of her. And you know what? I did. What a good person I am. Is sainthood in my future?
You bet.
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