the haunted board.Wednesday, October 31, 2007
my myspace page
Just thought I'd let you know that I have a myspace page now. A blog here is just too much pressure. So any of you on myspace, will you be my friend?
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
A Pillow of Dreams
Michelle and I are lying on our bed, and Kev, you are standing in our room along with my 2nd grade girlfriend Maria and an unnamed friend of her's. You're reading aloud a list on a scrap of paper that is supposed to be a list of everyone I ever had a crush on, but you're reading things like "VCU commemorative dime", which in the dream is instantly visualized in my head as a fine coin adorned with the brooding Johnson Hall on the back and a VCU logo across it. You're kind of rambling, and then you fall face down drunk onto the floor beside my side of the bed. There is drool coming from your mouth. I step over you and lead Maria and friend to their quarters, which are actually my parents' basement circa 1987. I pull out the sleep sofa for them, hand them sheets, and Maria remarks it's been a long time since we've seen each other.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Origins pt. 6
Don't hold me to the above date cuz I don't know for sure, it being Summer and all my lying prostrate in the back of Ryan's mom's van with late afternoon Eastern Shore sun bearing down on my page and we've got windows down, Counting Crows croon sad stereo songs to make us think of all the things we're no longer sure of. Not just every afternoon I look out a fast moving window of rte. 50 to gaze upon a goat tethered to a tree in a country yard leisurely eating grass and as I write these pen thoughts my nose knows manure's around and forever stretched out about us are the flat tilled fields soon to burst with prideful Maryland agriculture and many a vacationer will stop at a roadside stand to procure silver queen corn and cantaloupe that make me always think of seaside breakfasts when I'd sit and watch cartoons and not worry about death or being alone ever.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Layers of Enjoyment
What is Matt Hopper doing layering his sound like that? Seriously, go check out "Madison" and "Bottom of the Sea" over at Songs:Illinois
Making a Glee full Noise
Over at The Catbirdseat they've posted on Chicago's Blue Ribbon Glee Club, who, for your pleasure, cover Fugazi's Waiting Room and Pixies' Where Is My Mind.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Monday, October 22, 2007
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Adam's Visit
Kev and I are sitting in my living room one evening on the couch. There is a light knock at the door and I go to see who is there. The person is too short to see through the peep hole. I figure, this probably isn't a home invader so I open the door. It is Adam. He comes marching in furiously and heads for the kitchen. "I drove here non-stop all the way from Georgia! Don't you have anything better than this damned Winnie the Pooh beer?" Kev and I just stand there...
Friday, October 19, 2007
Yeasayer
I subscribe to WKEXP 90.3 song of the day through iTunes podcast. Everyday I get a new song that I more often keep than delete. Yesterday I got a song called 2080 by Yeasayer that I can't get out of my head. They got some pretty wild stuff. Check em out here for some downloads.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Origins Pt. 5
Saturday afternoon in December 1995: Driving west up Main Street to get to Carytown I was listening to a mixtape with the Boo Radley's "Hey, What's That Noise?" thinking about the McDonalds drive thru winow where I was bound. The sunshine was resplendent upon the bundled shoppers, many walking along Cary with a scarf and a smoke. I returned alone to my tower on Grove and dined while the heater creaked and groaned.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Monday, October 15, 2007
Best lines (song) you've heard this year.
I was interested in what good lyrics you guys have heard thus far this year. I thought of this after hearing the line,
I'm writing a list
Of songs I can sing by myself
"Backstage with the Modern Dancers" - Great Lake Swimmers
i'll add more as i come across them.
I'm writing a list
Of songs I can sing by myself
"Backstage with the Modern Dancers" - Great Lake Swimmers
i'll add more as i come across them.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Expansionism (Unfolding Saga, Pt. 6)
"I could move out here. I could move out here and instead of, on the weekends, instead of driving out to Harrisburg or York or Harpers Ferry or Dundalk or. . .or how many more times can I drive out to Hagerstown and Cumberland? Instead of driving out there I can go to places like 'Vail' or 'Breck' (and I'll do that too, I'll say, 'Breck', HA!). Or I'll drive out to right friggin' here. Where are we?" I thought. We weren't in the plains and we weren't in the mountains but there were mountains all around and long expanses of flat plains or farmland and desert type of foliage and rocky, craggy, terrain. Every once in a while we'd pass a huge ranch nestled deep in a valley between 2 hills and in the middle of hundreds of flat acres of land and fields of golden bromegrass.
"My life would change alright. Talk about a shock to the system, to just up and move out here? Out here? I mean, not to one of the ranches but to Denver. In my life I have started over before. Scrap everything, throw it all out the window and just start over. You've never seen me do it before but you do know I've had to in the past, seriously. And there's a beauty and a value in that, there really is. And right now, I mean, I could do it. What's to stop me? No children, no romantic relationship, and honestly, if I was in a romantic relationship I don't know that I would let it stop me from doing anything I damned well pleased. . .ha ha! Right. But I'm not in one, that's the point. Get my drift? I could drop everything right now and go. You would think the part about leaving Baltimore would be the easy part, I mean, who the hell wants to be in Baltimore, ever? There is no logical reason to buy a home in the city, the property value is so overrated, particularly for the quality of life. You'll pay through the nose (or at least I would have to struggle to pay any mortgage in a property in a neighborhood that MIGHT tolerate my being there, and possibly, if the city turns around, turn a small profit). You have the privilege of paying $230,000 for a two-and-a-half bedroom, 2 story home with one bathroom and sinking joints so that your kitchen floor needs leveling every 5 years and your backyard is a 10'x15' plot of land cordoned off by a chain link fence. Tack on another $60 a month for ground rent, money you owe to someone else who owns the land that your house was built on however many years ago. You don't even get the land when you buy a house there. Everything in that town is such a struggle. And out here? I'm sure there are things that would be difficult but so far the most difficult thing I've noticed is my ability to breathe. I could use a cigarette too."
I stopped looking out the window and watched Dawn and Ryan for a while, while the wind made that wah-wah-wah in my ears and kept things quiet for just a bit longer.
"My life would change alright. Talk about a shock to the system, to just up and move out here? Out here? I mean, not to one of the ranches but to Denver. In my life I have started over before. Scrap everything, throw it all out the window and just start over. You've never seen me do it before but you do know I've had to in the past, seriously. And there's a beauty and a value in that, there really is. And right now, I mean, I could do it. What's to stop me? No children, no romantic relationship, and honestly, if I was in a romantic relationship I don't know that I would let it stop me from doing anything I damned well pleased. . .ha ha! Right. But I'm not in one, that's the point. Get my drift? I could drop everything right now and go. You would think the part about leaving Baltimore would be the easy part, I mean, who the hell wants to be in Baltimore, ever? There is no logical reason to buy a home in the city, the property value is so overrated, particularly for the quality of life. You'll pay through the nose (or at least I would have to struggle to pay any mortgage in a property in a neighborhood that MIGHT tolerate my being there, and possibly, if the city turns around, turn a small profit). You have the privilege of paying $230,000 for a two-and-a-half bedroom, 2 story home with one bathroom and sinking joints so that your kitchen floor needs leveling every 5 years and your backyard is a 10'x15' plot of land cordoned off by a chain link fence. Tack on another $60 a month for ground rent, money you owe to someone else who owns the land that your house was built on however many years ago. You don't even get the land when you buy a house there. Everything in that town is such a struggle. And out here? I'm sure there are things that would be difficult but so far the most difficult thing I've noticed is my ability to breathe. I could use a cigarette too."
I stopped looking out the window and watched Dawn and Ryan for a while, while the wind made that wah-wah-wah in my ears and kept things quiet for just a bit longer.
On Running
It was 3.3 miles today, an all-time high, despite my black lungs and what I believe may be a stress fracture or an overworked tendon. Still, one can't deny the swollen nodule resting squarely on my tibia and precisely where the pain is. Still, the pain pales in comparison to the utter joy I feel in having a new entirely platonic friend to just kick around with.
Expansionism (Unfolding Saga, Pt. 5)
It wasn't long before we were at the car, smoking another cigarette and encouraging Jeff and Juneau to jump in the back where a metal cage wall would keep them from excitedly clamoring over the seat and into my lap. The three backpacks were stuffed on the driver's side of the backseat leaving only enough room for me to squeeze in and sit, not comfortably and not uncomfortably, beside them. Myself standing at the rear passenger door and Ryan standing at the front, Steve stood on the curb before us and Ryan said, "I think we're going to spend tonight and tomorrow night, if we can, backpacking the first night and then car camping from somewhere closer on the second night so that we can get back in time to get Kevin to the airport."
I'll never know what the look that Steve gave me meant, whether it was one of judgment or wonder or confusion; but I had no words with which to respond to him. I had nothing I could say. I was along for the ride and if we were to stay two nights then we were to stay two nights and Ryan was good to be sure that I was staying at his behest, and though I felt awful about it, I was cowardly, if not openly, and that was the way it had to be. That was the look I hoped to impart back to his friend Steve, a small missive shot across the bough which would hopefully land with it's rightful owner. "This is how it has to be, friend," I thought and with that I sat down into the car with the door still open and Steve said, "Ok, well you guys have fun," and turned to walk away as the three of us shut our doors and said little about anything save our excitement that we were off on our way. And it was near 10:00 AM when I decided to roll my window down half-way to give the dogs some blessed oxygen, because it had grown quite warm in the back of that Subaru Outback!
We made our way out to I-70 and up to the foothills where we began our slow ascent into the Rocky Mountains. For much of the next few hours time began to slow down or speed up or whatever it is that happens when one thought leads to another and before one knows it one is somewhere altogether different. I remembered when John first introduced you, and he told you that he was leaving you in good hands. "I don't feel like 'good hands' today," I thought as I watched us cut through the mountains, aspen and beetle eaten evergreens covering the mountains on both sides of the highway. Ryan broke from conversation with Dawn a couple of times to turn around and look at me and smile. It wasn't until much later that I realized he wasn't looking at me at all, but instead at the amusing spectacle of Jeff and Juneau, intent on the next blast of air from my window, over my shoulder where the only open space to the back of the wagon was, one head on top of the other, leading Ryan to laugh out loud and proclaim, "Look at Jeff and Juneau! They look like a totem pole!" One turn to look behind me and I couldn't disagree. They were clowns, smiling and sneezing on the back of my neck, in the wind, grinning from ear to ear. And the sun was warm and the air felt like Spring, and I really couldn't have been happier.
"I'm not one to believe in 'energy', as it is, but I've got something here that defies explanation; even in my own vernacular, even though I know you assuredly would disagree, only because you are certainly difficult and stubborn that way. Still, you can't ignore, even though you don't know I know, what happened last week. It strikes me almost as lucid dreaming; all ideas 'good' and 'bad' aside, there are moments where we unknowingly will a connection into existence from a thousand miles away, repeatedly missing the mark, but impressing only the slightest, most delicate footprint on the awareness of the other. You will not see it, but it is clearer than day," I thought. "Crazy talk, to anyone else but me. What damned gift is that?"
I'll never know what the look that Steve gave me meant, whether it was one of judgment or wonder or confusion; but I had no words with which to respond to him. I had nothing I could say. I was along for the ride and if we were to stay two nights then we were to stay two nights and Ryan was good to be sure that I was staying at his behest, and though I felt awful about it, I was cowardly, if not openly, and that was the way it had to be. That was the look I hoped to impart back to his friend Steve, a small missive shot across the bough which would hopefully land with it's rightful owner. "This is how it has to be, friend," I thought and with that I sat down into the car with the door still open and Steve said, "Ok, well you guys have fun," and turned to walk away as the three of us shut our doors and said little about anything save our excitement that we were off on our way. And it was near 10:00 AM when I decided to roll my window down half-way to give the dogs some blessed oxygen, because it had grown quite warm in the back of that Subaru Outback!
We made our way out to I-70 and up to the foothills where we began our slow ascent into the Rocky Mountains. For much of the next few hours time began to slow down or speed up or whatever it is that happens when one thought leads to another and before one knows it one is somewhere altogether different. I remembered when John first introduced you, and he told you that he was leaving you in good hands. "I don't feel like 'good hands' today," I thought as I watched us cut through the mountains, aspen and beetle eaten evergreens covering the mountains on both sides of the highway. Ryan broke from conversation with Dawn a couple of times to turn around and look at me and smile. It wasn't until much later that I realized he wasn't looking at me at all, but instead at the amusing spectacle of Jeff and Juneau, intent on the next blast of air from my window, over my shoulder where the only open space to the back of the wagon was, one head on top of the other, leading Ryan to laugh out loud and proclaim, "Look at Jeff and Juneau! They look like a totem pole!" One turn to look behind me and I couldn't disagree. They were clowns, smiling and sneezing on the back of my neck, in the wind, grinning from ear to ear. And the sun was warm and the air felt like Spring, and I really couldn't have been happier.
"I'm not one to believe in 'energy', as it is, but I've got something here that defies explanation; even in my own vernacular, even though I know you assuredly would disagree, only because you are certainly difficult and stubborn that way. Still, you can't ignore, even though you don't know I know, what happened last week. It strikes me almost as lucid dreaming; all ideas 'good' and 'bad' aside, there are moments where we unknowingly will a connection into existence from a thousand miles away, repeatedly missing the mark, but impressing only the slightest, most delicate footprint on the awareness of the other. You will not see it, but it is clearer than day," I thought. "Crazy talk, to anyone else but me. What damned gift is that?"
Origins Pt. 4
According to Jen Cooley I died nine years ago
there was no chance I'd make it far enough
to reflect on my twenties
from the grassy side of the grave.
I stole this idea
from a better poet at 28,
but here goes anyway...
it seems like a lot of what I remember
comes from October
30 times I've lived its 31 days
lucky to have been in a place with a climate
suitable for pumpkin carving first nights of love.
Until I had a car
everything of relevance fell on weekends or summer vacation
a Buick changed all that
exposing me to the point where the pavement ended and rurality took hold.
School...
I recall being humiliated by my math teacher
in 2nd grade for picking my nose while
she taught us to tell time on analog clocks
"You're making me so sick I'm going to go home and you can teach this class", she snapped,
while we sat Indian style
and I slyly rubbed my snotty finger against the industrial grade carpeting.
Mr. Mcdonald, 9th grade history teacher
the day before Thanksgiving brought in and played us his Alice's Restaurant LP
this being the first of several steps in the undoing of my upbringing.
I look back now on all who filed through
and kept walking
who never saw fit to google their way back.
I knew the best minds of suburban stagnation
always alert to an opportunity to expand a mind
or look cool trying.
There are hours when I still need all night eggs and tobacco,
but I'm not sure I could stay awake.
The other night in Chicago
I found myself in a club that stunk of sweat and smoke
like my 930 F Street past,
and I said to my friend "It's been a long time since I've been some place cool."
my concert attendings these days
consisting of sit down shows
by guys older than my dad
singing lost protests and heart songs into the rush of digital wind.
I told my wife I wanted to move to Chicago
as we drove down Armitage eyeing the alleys and cafes
She replied "Would you even go to those places? you're such a homebody."
I told her I'd go out to sit somewhere being antisocial
reading a paper, drinking overpriced beverages.
But, I would go out if there were places to go
but here there's nothing.
Even my old gloomed gravel roads are gone
asphalted and lined with assholes and aluminum mansions.
There's fake old time local paraphenalia
hanging on Ruby Tuesday walls.
Somewhere there's a factory
where nostalgia suitable for mounting is made en masse
then sent rush delivery
to the halls of frozen ribs and lukewarm fries,
and it reminds me of the wasted day when Adam and I were turned down at every factory we tried to tour.
there was no chance I'd make it far enough
to reflect on my twenties
from the grassy side of the grave.
I stole this idea
from a better poet at 28,
but here goes anyway...
it seems like a lot of what I remember
comes from October
30 times I've lived its 31 days
lucky to have been in a place with a climate
suitable for pumpkin carving first nights of love.
Until I had a car
everything of relevance fell on weekends or summer vacation
a Buick changed all that
exposing me to the point where the pavement ended and rurality took hold.
School...
I recall being humiliated by my math teacher
in 2nd grade for picking my nose while
she taught us to tell time on analog clocks
"You're making me so sick I'm going to go home and you can teach this class", she snapped,
while we sat Indian style
and I slyly rubbed my snotty finger against the industrial grade carpeting.
Mr. Mcdonald, 9th grade history teacher
the day before Thanksgiving brought in and played us his Alice's Restaurant LP
this being the first of several steps in the undoing of my upbringing.
I look back now on all who filed through
and kept walking
who never saw fit to google their way back.
I knew the best minds of suburban stagnation
always alert to an opportunity to expand a mind
or look cool trying.
There are hours when I still need all night eggs and tobacco,
but I'm not sure I could stay awake.
The other night in Chicago
I found myself in a club that stunk of sweat and smoke
like my 930 F Street past,
and I said to my friend "It's been a long time since I've been some place cool."
my concert attendings these days
consisting of sit down shows
by guys older than my dad
singing lost protests and heart songs into the rush of digital wind.
I told my wife I wanted to move to Chicago
as we drove down Armitage eyeing the alleys and cafes
She replied "Would you even go to those places? you're such a homebody."
I told her I'd go out to sit somewhere being antisocial
reading a paper, drinking overpriced beverages.
But, I would go out if there were places to go
but here there's nothing.
Even my old gloomed gravel roads are gone
asphalted and lined with assholes and aluminum mansions.
There's fake old time local paraphenalia
hanging on Ruby Tuesday walls.
Somewhere there's a factory
where nostalgia suitable for mounting is made en masse
then sent rush delivery
to the halls of frozen ribs and lukewarm fries,
and it reminds me of the wasted day when Adam and I were turned down at every factory we tried to tour.
Recovered Sods
We were cleaning out the attic today and found this mixed in with a lot of junk.
There are few places finer than Mr. Dahle's lands.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Origins, Part 3
Spanish spoken in the neon fog
breeze blowing along the border
through the sadness of a payphone
all alone in an El Paso truckstop
Sunday night, late autumn
I was 21
returning from a passioned rush to the West
the air was thick with grease and diesel
five hundred miles from a face I'd recognize
and no answer to my call.
Earlier, Moriarty, New Mexico- take out dinner
imagining the mythological implications of a solo desert meal in the Southland
as darkness fell
Las Cruces lights beckoned across the vast void of mountain shadow
but still so far to go until I got to where I wasn't sure I'd stop-
Motel 6, off 20, in Pecos
fitful aching hollow stomach sleep
while interstate truck lights burnt through the cheap curtains
The hill country was gray in November's mourn
I appreciated nothing
and drove on
stopping in Jackson, Tennessee when exhaustion demanded it
but not before Mcdonalds in West Memphis
where a guy tried selling me cocaine at my table
but I had to go to the counter if I wanted a sandwich.
breeze blowing along the border
through the sadness of a payphone
all alone in an El Paso truckstop
Sunday night, late autumn
I was 21
returning from a passioned rush to the West
the air was thick with grease and diesel
five hundred miles from a face I'd recognize
and no answer to my call.
Earlier, Moriarty, New Mexico- take out dinner
imagining the mythological implications of a solo desert meal in the Southland
as darkness fell
Las Cruces lights beckoned across the vast void of mountain shadow
but still so far to go until I got to where I wasn't sure I'd stop-
Motel 6, off 20, in Pecos
fitful aching hollow stomach sleep
while interstate truck lights burnt through the cheap curtains
The hill country was gray in November's mourn
I appreciated nothing
and drove on
stopping in Jackson, Tennessee when exhaustion demanded it
but not before Mcdonalds in West Memphis
where a guy tried selling me cocaine at my table
but I had to go to the counter if I wanted a sandwich.
Fresh Rot
Stribling Orchard near Markham, VA
I'm not really sure how I made it to the age of 31, as a life-long Virginian, without ever experiencing the simple pleasure of picking.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Expansionism (Unfolding Saga, Pt. 4)
Ryan reached into his pocket and pulled out the papers Dawn brought over last night. She had printed out directions to a couple of places and last night she and Ryan got online and looked them up trying to decide which one to pick while I sat on the couch and listened to Great Lake Swimmers. The fourth song on that album was so eerie and beautiful at the same time; reassuring, but in a strange way, free and connected while disconnecting. "I don't know what to do with this gift you gave me," I thought. "This never ending maze I'm trapped in. Why I ever went down that impossible road with you, I will never know. Nothing brings me closer to now than distant memory and again I sit here now and realize I am stuck and I can do nothing else but remember anymore. You are impossible!"
"Smoke?"
"Yeah, dude," I responded and stood up with Ryan and went out onto the front lawn.
"Have you seen Steve's backyard?"
And I hadn't and so we went through the gate and Steve was watering the plants and Ryan told me about all of the work Steve has done, and how it reminded him of my brother and Alexis with their house and I didn't see the resemblance but thought it must have been just a cursory reminder to Ryan who has only seen pictures on Steve's blog. It must have shown on my face because Ryan said, "Just having a yard, is all, and working on it. This yard looks completely different now than it did," and I could appreciate what he was saying. He went back around front while I took a moment and finished my cigarette and then put it out and dropped it in the trashcan that was sitting up against Steve's house.
I went back inside and sat down on the floor in Dawn's living room. Ryan was packing the car outside and Dawn was packing her bag on the couch. "How cold do you think it will be?" she asked.
"I don't know. Ryan said he thinks it will probably get down to the lower 30's and really, I know nothing."
She smiled. "Well, I can't decide whether or not to take this jacket," and she held up a black, down, puffy jacket. "You can wear it if you want. If you get too cold."
I looked at her for a moment and thought that she probably wanted to bring it and I told her that if she wanted, I'd put it in my pack and carry it for her and she said "ok" and stuffed it into a very small stuff sack and threw it to me. I took it outside and opened my bag, which was laying on the lawn, and pushed it in on top. I was getting quite warm in the sun. I cinched up the top and picked up the pack and put it on. Surprisingly comfortable and surprisingly light, though I wasn't sure what it would be like up in the mountains.
"Smoke?"
"Yeah, dude," I responded and stood up with Ryan and went out onto the front lawn.
"Have you seen Steve's backyard?"
And I hadn't and so we went through the gate and Steve was watering the plants and Ryan told me about all of the work Steve has done, and how it reminded him of my brother and Alexis with their house and I didn't see the resemblance but thought it must have been just a cursory reminder to Ryan who has only seen pictures on Steve's blog. It must have shown on my face because Ryan said, "Just having a yard, is all, and working on it. This yard looks completely different now than it did," and I could appreciate what he was saying. He went back around front while I took a moment and finished my cigarette and then put it out and dropped it in the trashcan that was sitting up against Steve's house.
I went back inside and sat down on the floor in Dawn's living room. Ryan was packing the car outside and Dawn was packing her bag on the couch. "How cold do you think it will be?" she asked.
"I don't know. Ryan said he thinks it will probably get down to the lower 30's and really, I know nothing."
She smiled. "Well, I can't decide whether or not to take this jacket," and she held up a black, down, puffy jacket. "You can wear it if you want. If you get too cold."
I looked at her for a moment and thought that she probably wanted to bring it and I told her that if she wanted, I'd put it in my pack and carry it for her and she said "ok" and stuffed it into a very small stuff sack and threw it to me. I took it outside and opened my bag, which was laying on the lawn, and pushed it in on top. I was getting quite warm in the sun. I cinched up the top and picked up the pack and put it on. Surprisingly comfortable and surprisingly light, though I wasn't sure what it would be like up in the mountains.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Origins Pt. 2
I come from hamburger helper, kool Aid, and Kraft Mac n' Cheese
I come from Star Wars, Legos, G.I. Joe, and Hot Wheels
I come from Mom, Dad, brothers, sisters, David, Jimmy, Patrick, and Maria
I come from green couches, metal bread boxes, twin beds, mahogany coffee tables, and rabbit eared tvs
I come from Different Strokes, Scooby Doo, Land of the Lost, and Webster
I come from Lionel Richie, Michael Jackson, Thompson Twins, and Duran Duran
I come from Ocean City skull iron-ons, Kangaroos, terrycloth shorts, and parachute pants
I come from Fathom Court, Shipwright Drive, Mizen Place, and Drifter Court
I come from crayfish, tadpoles, minnows, and water striders
I come from Cal Ripken, Eddie Murray, and Jim Palmer
I come from teeter-totters, feeding ducks, and baby pools
I come from Chuck E. Cheese, Roy Rogers, Hardees, and Bob's Big Boy
I come from ice cream trucks, birds flying south, and big wheels rumbling on the sidewalk
I come from cutting our own Christmas tree in Middleburg, my dad stringing large gaudy colored lights along our porch railing, and neighbors with plastic nativities
I come from Sunday cookouts, wiffle ball, and bike rides
I come from Indiana, Niagara Falls, and the Cape Hatteras lighthouse
I come from sledding hills, storm drain creeks, backyard forts, and cul de sacs
I come from station wagons, Pintos, Volvos, and Buicks
I come from...
I come from Star Wars, Legos, G.I. Joe, and Hot Wheels
I come from Mom, Dad, brothers, sisters, David, Jimmy, Patrick, and Maria
I come from green couches, metal bread boxes, twin beds, mahogany coffee tables, and rabbit eared tvs
I come from Different Strokes, Scooby Doo, Land of the Lost, and Webster
I come from Lionel Richie, Michael Jackson, Thompson Twins, and Duran Duran
I come from Ocean City skull iron-ons, Kangaroos, terrycloth shorts, and parachute pants
I come from Fathom Court, Shipwright Drive, Mizen Place, and Drifter Court
I come from crayfish, tadpoles, minnows, and water striders
I come from Cal Ripken, Eddie Murray, and Jim Palmer
I come from teeter-totters, feeding ducks, and baby pools
I come from Chuck E. Cheese, Roy Rogers, Hardees, and Bob's Big Boy
I come from ice cream trucks, birds flying south, and big wheels rumbling on the sidewalk
I come from cutting our own Christmas tree in Middleburg, my dad stringing large gaudy colored lights along our porch railing, and neighbors with plastic nativities
I come from Sunday cookouts, wiffle ball, and bike rides
I come from Indiana, Niagara Falls, and the Cape Hatteras lighthouse
I come from sledding hills, storm drain creeks, backyard forts, and cul de sacs
I come from station wagons, Pintos, Volvos, and Buicks
I come from...
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Old News,
but come on, RADIOHEAD giving away their new album on this scale, is pretty damn cool. I remember seeing them sing "Creep" on the MTV Beach House and thinking 'this is a band i'll never see again,' when i should have been thinking 'What the hell am i watching?'
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Expansionism (Unfolding Saga, Pt. 3)
"There's eggs and sausage in the pan in the kitchen, tortillas, cheese. . .just help yourself"
Ryan and I walked into the kitchen and he grabbed a plate and the spatula and began digging at the pan as Steve walked in, hair pressed to the side and sticking up in the back, wearing a t-shirt and soccer shorts. Dawn was in the backyard. The sun was coming through the window and the kitchen smelled like dog. On the floor near the door was a dog dish full of dog food and another with water in it and you could see stray dog hairs floating in the water. The eggs immediately made me think of Michelle's famous scrambled eggs as the sausage had been mixed into them during cooking. Ryan scooped them with the spatula onto his tortilla, threw in some cheese, and maybe some sour cream too (I don't remember) and then folded a burrito and handed the spatula to me. I did the same. Steve did the same, after me, and the three of us sat down at the dining room table and began eating while Dawn tarried outside.
"So you went to Boyztown last night?" Ryan asked Steve.
"Ugghh. . ." he responded and went on to recount the events of the evening, that it was a late night. All through the telling his right nostril furled and he intermittently brought his index finger up to it, not placing it in, but rather what looked as though to push it back down into place or to be sure that it was still there.
I munched on my burrito and listened to stories from the night before, all the while watching the nostril and the tuft of hair that was sticking up in back. The two talked about coworkers and who had said what, and who had done what, and how it had related to how they knew their coworkers, and what had been said in the previous week leading up to the dramatic events of last night. All the while I wondered about what wasn't being said and my eyes darted between Steve and Ryan (who from time to time would lean forward covering his mouth with his hand and laughing through his nose with his mouth full of food).
Eventually Dawn came through the kitchen door and fixed herself an egg and sausage and cheese burrito and sat down at the table with us. "So you guys went to Boyztown last night?" she asked to which Steve and Ryan responded with severely truncated versions of the same stories and soon the three of them were laughing and talking about Steve and Ryan's coworkers while Dawn's senile dog (not Jeff) that had been laying on the living room floor for the whole ordeal licked it's chops and stretched out on it's side and closed it's eyes.
"So, do you guys know where you're going?" Steve asked.
Ryan and I walked into the kitchen and he grabbed a plate and the spatula and began digging at the pan as Steve walked in, hair pressed to the side and sticking up in the back, wearing a t-shirt and soccer shorts. Dawn was in the backyard. The sun was coming through the window and the kitchen smelled like dog. On the floor near the door was a dog dish full of dog food and another with water in it and you could see stray dog hairs floating in the water. The eggs immediately made me think of Michelle's famous scrambled eggs as the sausage had been mixed into them during cooking. Ryan scooped them with the spatula onto his tortilla, threw in some cheese, and maybe some sour cream too (I don't remember) and then folded a burrito and handed the spatula to me. I did the same. Steve did the same, after me, and the three of us sat down at the dining room table and began eating while Dawn tarried outside.
"So you went to Boyztown last night?" Ryan asked Steve.
"Ugghh. . ." he responded and went on to recount the events of the evening, that it was a late night. All through the telling his right nostril furled and he intermittently brought his index finger up to it, not placing it in, but rather what looked as though to push it back down into place or to be sure that it was still there.
I munched on my burrito and listened to stories from the night before, all the while watching the nostril and the tuft of hair that was sticking up in back. The two talked about coworkers and who had said what, and who had done what, and how it had related to how they knew their coworkers, and what had been said in the previous week leading up to the dramatic events of last night. All the while I wondered about what wasn't being said and my eyes darted between Steve and Ryan (who from time to time would lean forward covering his mouth with his hand and laughing through his nose with his mouth full of food).
Eventually Dawn came through the kitchen door and fixed herself an egg and sausage and cheese burrito and sat down at the table with us. "So you guys went to Boyztown last night?" she asked to which Steve and Ryan responded with severely truncated versions of the same stories and soon the three of them were laughing and talking about Steve and Ryan's coworkers while Dawn's senile dog (not Jeff) that had been laying on the living room floor for the whole ordeal licked it's chops and stretched out on it's side and closed it's eyes.
"So, do you guys know where you're going?" Steve asked.
Origins pt. 1
The night I met you it seemed like you lived somewhere way out in the country. Ryan drove down narrow two lanes bordered by old fences enclosing green fields in the evening damp haze of August. It didn’t seem like we could still be in Fairfax surrounded by all this open space, having temporarily forgotten how much ruralness there still was in the county. Ryan had an arm out the window, the other hand held a fag and a wheel, and he played a tape from John Denver’s lamentable reggae phase. We were on our way to you, and I had no idea who you were except that he had said you were something special.
Farm pics lacking pig genitalia
Thanks for coming down this weekend. Sorry it was so hot down on the farm. You forgot to take the pretzels with you.Monday, October 8, 2007
Every Picture and It's Mama
Alright, Bishops, I don't wanna hear any more of, "You never share any of your pictures". Every picture and it's mama is being methodically applied to Flickr as there are no more limits to uploads and no more limits to sets. The Flickr button is down below the blog archive! I'm putting 'em up as fast as I can, but I got a lot of 'em!
Expansionism (Unfolding Saga, Pt. 2)
At the sink I tapped yesterday's disc of compressed espresso grounds out of the metal filter basket and rinsed it, scooped some fresh grounds into it, pressed it, locked the arm tightly into place and pressed go. Out the kitchen window two men were walking down the alley and I could hear them talking but I couldn't tell what they were talking about. Ryan was stirring.
I found an empty cardboard box and sat down on the floor next to my suitcase and began rummaging through my clothes, trying to think of what I might need. Ryan and I both figured it would get cold that night, somewhere in the lower 30's. 4 pairs of socks, 3 t-shirts, sweater, 2 pairs of pants, fleece. . . Ryan got up and walked into the living room and threw a pair of cotton gloves into the box on his way to the espresso machine. He cleared his throat, muttered "Uuugh", and then tap, tap, tap in the sink with the metal filter basket and a rinse. "My jeans, t-shirt, and tennis shoes will have to do for hiking," I thought.
I got cleaned up while Ryan was packing his bag and then he showered and before long we were down the stairs, through the courtyard and on the street at the car with Juneau. It was 8:30 AM. I was going to borrow a backpack from Steve, Dawn's neighbor, but even with the box our things fit nicely in the trunk. I opened the passenger door and Juneau jumped inside and stood on the back seat. I sat down and closed the door and Ryan got in and started the car.
We were at Dawn's duplex by 9:00 AM. Her neighbor, Steve, had agreed to let me borrow his pack and I can't remember if Ryan stepped inside his house to get it or if it was sitting in Dawn's living room when we arrived. I unpacked the box from the trunk of the car and on Dawn's front lawn I unpacked the box of my clothing into the pack. Juneau had run into the backyard and was carousing with Dawn's dog.
Later that morning while sitting in Dawn's living room I asked her, "What's your dog's name?"
"You haven't met Jeff?" she asked.
"Nope."
"Really?"
Smiling I put my hands over my heart and jokingly said, "I know, Dawn, it seems like we've known each other forever," only she continued packing her bag and said, "Yeah, I know."
But before that, once I finished packing my bag I made my way inside and Ryan was looking at the bags on the couch, looking at the doorway to the kitchen, looking at me. And then cleared his throat.
I found an empty cardboard box and sat down on the floor next to my suitcase and began rummaging through my clothes, trying to think of what I might need. Ryan and I both figured it would get cold that night, somewhere in the lower 30's. 4 pairs of socks, 3 t-shirts, sweater, 2 pairs of pants, fleece. . . Ryan got up and walked into the living room and threw a pair of cotton gloves into the box on his way to the espresso machine. He cleared his throat, muttered "Uuugh", and then tap, tap, tap in the sink with the metal filter basket and a rinse. "My jeans, t-shirt, and tennis shoes will have to do for hiking," I thought.
I got cleaned up while Ryan was packing his bag and then he showered and before long we were down the stairs, through the courtyard and on the street at the car with Juneau. It was 8:30 AM. I was going to borrow a backpack from Steve, Dawn's neighbor, but even with the box our things fit nicely in the trunk. I opened the passenger door and Juneau jumped inside and stood on the back seat. I sat down and closed the door and Ryan got in and started the car.
We were at Dawn's duplex by 9:00 AM. Her neighbor, Steve, had agreed to let me borrow his pack and I can't remember if Ryan stepped inside his house to get it or if it was sitting in Dawn's living room when we arrived. I unpacked the box from the trunk of the car and on Dawn's front lawn I unpacked the box of my clothing into the pack. Juneau had run into the backyard and was carousing with Dawn's dog.
Later that morning while sitting in Dawn's living room I asked her, "What's your dog's name?"
"You haven't met Jeff?" she asked.
"Nope."
"Really?"
Smiling I put my hands over my heart and jokingly said, "I know, Dawn, it seems like we've known each other forever," only she continued packing her bag and said, "Yeah, I know."
But before that, once I finished packing my bag I made my way inside and Ryan was looking at the bags on the couch, looking at the doorway to the kitchen, looking at me. And then cleared his throat.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
the shed
I finally have a chance to paint in my new little studio shed. Thought I'd share a couple pics of it. The portrait is my grandmother, age 16, in Central Park, 1947. My mom's sisters asked me to do a portrait of her to present as a gift at her upcoming 80th birthday party. It's not quite done, but almost.
Friday, October 5, 2007
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Fall Comes To the Sods
7 years ago this coming weekend Michelle and I took our first married camping trip to the Mononghela. High temps reached the low 30's. During the night I awoke shivering uncontrollably. In the morning on our hike out the whole trail was crusted in frost.Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Monday, October 1, 2007
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