going around, coming around

A co-worker was telling me that she is collecting items for a holiday pot luck party her team is having where they will do a Yankee swap. With the budget cuts, there is no money for food or gifts this year, so she is scouring our offices for items that the owners no longer want.

i told her about the green heart shaped paperweight, and she asked to have it. i opened the drawer that has held it in limbo for the last two months and handed it to her without pause.

It was only when she left did i take time to wonder if i was done with it.

Someone will like it as a present, in spite of its bad karma.

christmas shopping

Took a day out of work to do some Christmas shopping, and found that it was really nice being in downtown Providence. My destination, Craftland, produced as always...i came away with about ten gifts. Next stop, Symposium Books, but came away with nothing. It did make me wish i read more graphic novels, as they always look so well done.





On my way back to the car, noticed an aspect of the Conrad building that i hadn't noticed before:


The turret, especially with the green spired roof, is just beautiful. How many times have i walked past it? A few hundred?

Thanks, Giving!

What's it for?

A group of Europeans hated the way they were being treated, set sail for a new land where they could mistreat the natives as they had been mistreated.

Pay me no mind...this gaggle of holidays is always challenging. i use everything taught me in therapy, it keeps my head just above water.

And then The Land gets in my car and tells me about the totem pole she is making at school.

"A lion to represent mom, a bear to represent (Fortunato), and I am a deer. I am not making one for (The Sea), she'll understand."

This is me waiting for the other shoe to drop, the one that never does: *****.

An hour later, The Sea gets in the car, sullen, and hands me a Thanksgiving card she made at school; the stereotypical holiday images on it are scribbled messily with colors. She tells me with a pout that she didn't have time to finish it, that she only had five minutes . I am grateful that she wanted me to have it, and ask her if she wants to give it to mom, and she says that mom got hers yesterday- she had a lot more time to work on it, and that it's beautiful.

How can one believe in a God that is not satisfied with your soul collapsing, but wants to see it bleed out as well?

viva la revolution

It is both encouraging and discouraging reading the news lately. i am encouraged by the occupy movement, but discouraged by Mississippi's attempt to define when life begins....if approved, it will set back reproductive rights forty years or more.

(Whenever i spell Mississippi i still say it a it was taught in grade school: M-I-S-S,I-S-S, I-P-P-I)

There is a growing divide in our country, or perhaps the illusion of a growing divide. To watch or read the news you would think there are only two camps, the Tea Party & the 99%, when i am sure there are those who fall in the middle. Even if it is an illusion, it has damaging outcomes. i find myself falling more and more to the left, wanting policies that restore money to social services and take care of all Americans, rather than the upper class.

When Obama mentioned his tax plan of the rich needing to pay more in taxes, my father told me that he was inciting a class war. He's right, but doesn't know that it is the lower class who will be galvanized and who will tire of supporting the 1%.

weights

My desk at work is cluttered with papers (especially embarrassing in this day and age when all of our files are electronic) and nick knacks i have been given over the years, like an over sized coffee mug painted by The Land when she was three years old, a small Darth Vader ceramic figurine with a hollow head for holding candy.

Today i went to re-arrange Darth, as he was becoming crowded by the lamp and one other item: a glass paper weight in the shape of a heart. ExA gave it to me, most likely for Valentine's Day. Her gifts were perfectly executed demonstrations of the holiday or event.

i have shed so many items that she had given me, i wondered how this had survived this long. It went into the top drawer of the desk, always the first step before permanently disposing of something, kind of like a limbo for items whose value i am not quite sure about. As the drawer closed, i was surprised to find myself tearing up.

This evening, a co-worker was driving me back to my car and asked why i was thinking about moving to Vermont. i hesitate telling anybody, but i said it; it was too late in the day to lie.

She, like so many, cannot believe how much my heart still belongs to her.

friendship graveyard

i had a very good friend from the time i was 17 until 32. We had become friends when my sister told me about this shy kid who was writing poems to her friend. Writing poetry was my calling in those days, so i eagerly sought him out. That, and his sense of humor, drew us into a friendship that lasted almost fifteen years.

We spent the summer after my senior year (his junior) seeing St. Elmo's Fire over and over, trying to dress like Kevin McCarthy, driving around and pining for girls who didn't understand us. If i wasn't working or sleeping, i was with him. Many of my memories of that time are jokes of his that, to this day, make me laugh out loud. In 1987, we drove to NYC just to see where John Lennon was shot; there are black & white photos of us right outside the building.

The friendship suffered when in 1992 i cheated on Daisy. He saw me as being like one of the jocks we detested, and told me so. He moved to Seattle the next year, not so much because of this but because he was getting into a rut- not dating, sitting at home most of the time. It was the first sign of his struggle with what is most likely depression.

He had returned to RI by the time i met ExA and was my best man when we married- i was happy to ask him, of all my friends. Six months after we married, he broke off contact with me; however, he stayed in touch with ExA, much to my anger, as it appeared to be manipulative.

Eventually, he stopped contacting her as well. Over the years, i had a dream every few months where we were friends again, dreams almost like those you would have of an ex lover: they leave you empty upon awakening, as you realize what is true, what transpired.

When ExA and i separated, i found out in a roundabout way that he had contacted her again. This angered and saddened me so much that the dreams stopped.

i occasionally wonder about him, but it is without fondness. When i run into his parents, they are guarded when i ask how he is; i ask as i have been programmed to ask, not because i care.

danger everywhere

i've been to this Asian restaurant at least 25 times but only this past week noticed the sign on their door:



While i know there is humor in how English is translated from Japanese, Chinese (and vice versa), this seems more poetic than humorous.

nightswimming

A large bulletin board hangs in front of my desk at work; i face it as i carry out my day to day tasks. Pinned to it are photographs of The Land and The Sea, of people we used to support who have passed away, people with whom i worked fifteen years ago, various pieces of memorabilia that, hopefully lighten my day..... a favorite is the picture of Max from "Where The Wild Things Are" grinning mischievously as his bedroom transforms into a jungle.

There is a photo of me, along with two friends who married a month after ExA and I. Today, the afternoon had me in its jaws as we let another person go due to budget cuts. As i waited to be swallowed whole, i looked at myself in that photograph and tried to remember what i was thinking when it was taken. i was clearly happy- i am smiling, and my two friends are as well, captured in that moment of brilliance you feel when marrying the person you hope to know until the end of life. Yet, there was this craving to know exactly what my thoughts were, and disdain that cameras cannot capture everything.

A streak of autumn sun brought me out of the mouth of sadness, slightly. To me, autumn serves as a 360 degree, surround sound photograph, a metaphor for what was and what may be, what will never be again. Bitter, bittersweet.

evol

There are times when i feel as though i could be in love with Noire. Although, i fear that this might be more in the realm of need, rather than love.

It's odd when you are in a relationship where all of the usual ingredients are present- physical attraction, respect, appreciation for personality, friendship- and yet cannot get to that last part.

She is patient, waits for me to renege on the two tenets i told her on our first date: marriage and more children are not in my future. At times she cannot oblige me, due to her own clock ticking, and asks, "Do you know what it's like to be in love with someone who does not feel the same for you?"

i do. i don't tell her that it's what i feel for ExA, but she hints at knowing.

Most days the pain of loving again is too great to bear.

the greatest victory is the victory over oneself

Due to another round of budget cuts, the agency where i work needs to save another $2 million for the State of RI; if anyone is keeping score, this makes a total of $5 million in three years that have been taken away from people with developmental disabilities. In a state that just claimed an increase of revenue for the last quarter of fiscal year 2011.

This results in the lay off of five positions in our office. A week from this Friday they will be taken in for a meeting, told that their positions are eliminated, be paid for the rest of that pay period but not work for the last week. Four of these people i see on a daily basis and have to greet them like i don't know what is going to happen. This is the time to buy a Bed & Breakfast in Vermont.

This country is so lost, i am beaten down by the daily onslaught of corporations taking over our government, the ruling class pissing on the middle and lower classes. Obama is doing little for his party, and is almost as ineffectual as W was.

it's the real thing

God, i love Coca-Cola. i know that most of you abandoned it in your early teens for more adult fare, but for me it is my drug of choice.

Love how it burns going down, especially when you have a sore throat...feels like it's destroying all of those throat germs causing the sore. Love how it bites each and every taste bud upon the first sip, love it's sweet warmth as it courses through my veins.

When i was 15 and convinced i was going to be a writer... a writer that made money, that is- i imagined myself in my office, working on my fourth great American novel, with my own Coke fountain right by my side. Hunter S. Thompson could have his whiskey, Bukowski could have, well, everything else, but all i wanted was Coke. While in my 20's and my 30's, and out at a bar, a well meaning friend would at times suggest i order it with some rum or whiskey. i looked at them as if they were speaking in tongues: why would i want to ruin a perfectly good drink?

These days i have it a few times a week, as opposed to the two liters a day i used to drink in my wild 20's, and still marvel at how i never tire of it.

pop goes the world

For some time, The Land & The Sea listen to pop music; therefore, i listen to pop music as well. And i wonder if anyone else notices that the majority of themes in pop songs is about partying: dancing through the night, drinking to excess, sexual experience upon sexual experience. Even Katy Perry, whose "Firework" is amazing, has a song out now that makes me cringe, as it reveals women to be concerned only with maxing out their credit cards and hooking up with their girlfriends all in the name of a good party.

While i don't expect much from pop music, i do expect variation. i have a fond appreciation for pop songs that were hits in spite of their dark meanings:

1. "One" U2- infidelity
2. "Every Breath You Take"- stalking
3. "Dear God"- XTC- atheism
4. "Brick"- Ben Folds Five- abortion


and so on. So it is possible to sing about something other than partying.


Don't get me wrong, i love a good party song. While my day to day taste tends to prefer sadder themed songs, there's nothing like a good dance song that makes you want to jerk up and down spastically across a room. "I'm Gonna Get You" and "Groove is in the Heart" are my kryptonite- have to dance when i hear them.

Still, i am disconcerted by a 10 and 7 year old singing "sticks & stones may break my bones but whips & chains excite me."

second skin

A couple of weeks ago, my daughters & i came across a cicada molting on the fence in my backyard...it had made the rest of its way out of the molt before i realized, "hey, i should film this."





There are trees in my neighborhood that have started shedding their bark, making way for new:

















i need to shed some old skin, some protective covering.

i find it odd how people automatically assume depression is about sadness, or has overtones of sadness, or is rooted in sadness.

For me, it's about disconnection, alienation, all of those words we used in our angst ridden, teenage poetry. When it hits, i feel like an observer to a world that i am not part of.

There is a line from a Cure song, fairly obscure B-side, that says:

The further i get from the things that i care about
the less i care how much further away i get.

That said it pretty well, until i discovered American Music Club a few years later. Their song "Sick of Food" said it better:

i'm sick of food, so why am i so hungry?
i was sick of you, but i don't mind seeing your little face around.
i was sick of love, so i just stopped feeling,
but i couldn't find anything to take its place.

Huzzah to those of you who can find a sliver of light in the darkness.

So concludes a post from my 17 year old self.

cancer

The word inspires dread in most, but i know better.

When she texted me asking about the health insurance deductibles (in RI, you have to keep your ex, estranged, selfish spouse on your health insurance until s/he remarries), i suspected it was a means to an end. i told her that i couldn't care less what procedure she was going for, but she had to tell, delighted in telling me, savored being able to text C-A-N-C-E-R to me.

i still didn't bite; i know better, after 11 years: it is always about her and always will be. The next day, this:



i will not play, not one second more of my life will go to caring for her. It already lives inside me, the cancer of a wasted marriage.

inhuman service

i work in human services, with people who are developmentally disabled. RI has been good about funding services for the last 20 years or so, on part because of the late Senator John Chafee. Now that the state is in a deficit, they needed to take a look at the funding. The agency i work for, along with the others, set about working with the state department that oversees us, hoping the changes would not only reduce costs but keep them high in quality.

The agency i work for has reduced it's operations by $2.5 million over the last three years. Uncomfortable, yes, but necessary. However, it isn't enough for those currently in power. Now the cuts are malicious, the climate of working together is no longer and we are now running homes staffed at a dangerous level.

i am fortunate to have a job, and will do what it takes to keep people with disabilities out of institutions. But the onslaught of attacks from our legislators over the past few weeks has beaten us down; we all walk around like zombies, lifeless and decaying, wondering where this bloodlust has come from.

Human services is just the next scapegoat in the wave of many others: illegal immigration, same sex couples...if you're vulnerable, you're next.

or foe

One of the more interesting (said with the tone of someone who just found a pile dog shit in the shape of Rodin's "The Thinker") aspects of Bacefook is how it has skewed the concept of friendship.

Before i joined the ranks, years ago i was doing a training and during the break two of the women in their 20's were discussing their Bacefook pages; the behemoth social networking site was a couple of years old at that point. As they discussed how many people were listed as their friends, i asked about the trueness of the friendships. One of the women said, "I have only my closest 200 friends on it."

i am pretty sure that she didn't even hear what she was saying, or thought that maybe i was stuck in the old fashioned concept of friendship, of what "close" meant.

Now that i have an account, i try and be careful in how i use it- as many of us have found, it is great for staying in touch with friends and families who live far away, and can be a great tool for inspiring a thread on your quirky comment or an obscure lyric. However, i recently encountered two of my Bacefook "friends" in public; one was a peripheral acquaintance in high school, the other, a friends of my sister's. As i smiled broadly as they approached, anticipating a real life exchange, they walked past, not recognizing me or choosing not to engage.

i laughed at the oddness of having interacted with them through the false world of cyberspace but was anonymous to them in person.

That'll Learn Me

i was given a very nice Guild 12 String guitar from a co-worker, similar to this. It is more of a rhythm instrument, and, as i am not a lead player, i seek to play with a second person so that it doesn't just sound like yet another guy with a guitar playing Eagles covers.

To quote the band Cracker, "What the world needs now is another folk singer like i need a hole in my head."

Tonight i played with a a guy who was in one of my favorite RI bands in the 80's and early 90's, That'll Learn Ya, a real sweet guy who is part of a collective of musicians that inspire and encourage me to keep at it.


We had a lot of fun playing songs from our childhood, The Replacements, The Pixies, and just talking music; i love to hear his stories from the Learn Ya days.

Every time i play, alone or with someone, i wish that i had worked harder at learning guitar in my younger days. i received my first guitar when i was 15, but quickly bored of lessons and only wanted it so i could turn my "poetry" into songs...i simply thought, "Someday i'll have time to be better."

i am a better player, not great, but enough to put my mind at ease, feel as though i am accomplishing something.

breathing.

this is the world calling

What do you do when something like the tornado in Joplin occurs? When you hear daily reports about rebels dying in the battle for independence in Syria? When a plane goes down killing all on board and you know that included at least one baby?

Having the Internet and all of our communication has made us all a village, but sometimes i cannot take the helplessness i feel when the other villagers are suffering, dying.

i know the cliche- you do what you can in your own part. So i volunteer at my food pantry, volunteer to get same sex marriage passed in my state, give to charities, but it doesn't feel like enough.

i do not want to be desensitized by what i hear on the news, and it's so hard to not let appreciation form into guilt as i sip a large iced chai on my way to a hike in our beautiful woods.

through the drinking glass

i cringed while reading that last post, but will leave it up as a lesson of why i shouldn't blog while drunk.

Not in love with anybody, just experiencing a crush that has inspired some pretty good poetry. Still, i have written poems for women before that meant no more than a passing appreciation of some beautiful, some radiance.

Should have left my drunk experience to some obnoxiousness i engaged in while at the bar: when my friends started playing Beatles' songs in their set, i turned to two of my other friends and said that i hated the Beatles and i was glad that two were dead.

i'll take being an asshole over being some mushy romantic any day.

drunk

i needed alcohol to anesthetize me from a troubling work week: our budget is being reduced so we have let one department and one full time videographer go. The videographer was my responsibility, a great guy who talked music with me and brought me to metal shows. Not just any metal shows, great metal shows, like Katatonia.

Today we let him know that his job was being eliminated... he asked, hopefully, could he take a pay cut? My supervisor, replied that the future is so bleak that a pay cut wouldn't make a dent in what we need to reduce.

Two Jager shots and i don't know how many beers later, i am looking at a world that is beautiful for no good reason. i saw some friends play, we collected as a group, none of them knowing that i needed a night of beauty.

And, i have hesitated writing about this, but i have fallen in love with a woman at my work place. It will come to nothing- she is married, and i will never affect someone's marriage again.

Still, the poetry that is coming to me, inspired by her simplest movements, makes me glad to be alive again, appreciative of all that is beautiful.

Poor Noire, she won't know what hit her. Again.

day three

The boulder was rolled away from the opening, and the body was gone.....i guess it's time to discuss Noire and i.

Since re-connecting last November, it's as if those three months we were apart allowed me to let go of whatever was keeping me from appreciating her, and while i know she and i will not be together for a long time i have much more appreciation for her now.

The hindrances of who she wasn't is no longer as blaring, and instead i enjoy who she is, what we are together. It is an interesting approach for me, as i have always been the kind of person who is all or nothing. What i feel for her is fine, for right now.

Worry, at times, appears in my thoughts: what if someone else comes along? Do i end it? Part of me feels I will, but still another part of me is not so sure. It is important for me to know that i am not somebody who hurts others. i now know that regardless of how unsatisfying my marriage was, having an affair was not justified. i am devoted to Noire, and will be, as there are few true gifts we can give those who love us, and complete fidelity is one of them.

erosion

Had some time to kill this morning while waiting for a friend, so i went to Narragansett town beach. In spite of the cold, overcast, windy day, there were quite a few people, two of them windsurfing:



i hadn't realized the exposure was up so high, hence the wash out.

The beach is so eroded that pylons from a long forgotten boardwalk appeared.




One of them had deteriorated into this odd, melting shape.



It's hard to tell from this angle, but the white parts are bending over, like it's flowering.

accidents

Fascinated with the word accident. In the past, when i heard it i would think of two, or more, vehicles colliding. As a grow older, i see how accidents fit into the fabric of life, and marvel at how they synchronize with the rest of life's events.

Running into a friend from high school in Manhattan where he was going to school. Deciding to seek a management position in the company i have been at for 20 years instead of pursuing teaching. Walking into the gift store ExA's mother owns to buy cards and meeting her.

There are those who are so removed from themselves they will claim that a purposeful action is an accident. i know, because i have been a master of being purposeful under the guise of accidents.

"Accidentally" finding myself at the same bar as a woman i had a crush on. "Accidentally" calling her number. Each time i slipped into infidelity, i did so under the illusion of not really being aware of my actions, these "accidents." i denied what my actions truly meant, removed myself from responsible action.

Being mindful has been a priority these last few years, and with it, being true to the universe. The Four Agreements call it being impeccable with your word. i no longer have accidents on purpose.

Hopefully.

flowing

Sometimes it's just a sunny, almost warm day where you can spend idle time cleaning the yard, going through a box of stuff you should have thrown away years ago, and listen to some forgotten band from the 80's.

Sometimes that is all a blog entry should be.

new yourk

Visited NYC on Friday to see a show with Noire.

i have a love/hate relationship with the place. i was indifferent the first few times i went- great record stores, great food, etc- but after a few too many trips where i ended up in impossible traffic the relationship soured, so i turned on it. It was easy to turn given the fact that i am not much of a city person and i hate, hate litter. New York seems to be decorated with litter.

It was 70 degrees, and walking through he city on a warm day and evening rekindled my love for it. It helped to be with people who know the city, as well as Noire, but i felt as though i wouldn't mind going alone some day.

Picture is of some fruit i saw while walking through Chinatown; still getting used to the iPhone, so it's a little blurry.

to fall or not

Today is the third day in a chain that hints at Spring. Even a person as cynical as i cannot help being thankful for more warmth, more color, more youth.

In bed last night, Noire asked questions about my marriage counseling with ExA; we had started discussing therapists and she inquired about the counselor we had seen towards the end. She asked if it had been helpful, if anything came out that upset me, and i recalled the time ExA had said she wished i was more of a take control kind of guy, that she appreciated the democratic approached in our relationship but once in awhile wished i was more decisive. It is a ghost that has stalked me since i was a teenager: balancing sensitivity with decisiveness, knowing all to well that i was too much a student of the first camp.

Oddly enough, i found it hard to talk about with Noire, and had to stop a second. i realized for the first time in a long time that i liked having someone to listen again, as over these past few weeks i feel myself falling for her.

And still there is always a piece that holds onto to ExA, like two hands holding onto a crumbling ledge.

skin, bark, lies

While visiting PJ in Philadelphia this past Friday, he asked if i kept in touch with KT. i had no sooner told him the story about our last encounter in September 2009, and that i had not heard from her since then, when i looked at my phone and saw that she requested me as a friend on Bacefook.



i hesitated, not just out of fear of spiralling downward but also because of my relationship with Noire. i should have talked with Noire first, and resolved to do so when i returned home, and accepted the request.

8 AM the next morning i am awakened by my phone ringing; i don't answer it in time and see that it is Noire. She then sends a text imploring me to call her, and it is then i understand why she called. She launches into a tirade about how could i accept the friendship, that it is slap in the face to her, has already decided that i have every intention of being unfaithful.

One of the big problems with committing infidelity is that the action adorns you like clothes- you are forever an infidel. And as much as i try and explain to Noire that i do not want to be that kind of person, that i have been nothing but faithful to her, my scarlet letter becomes aware to me, looms over the hotel bed shrieking for the blood i owe.

Today i went to visit The Land & The Sea at my ex-in laws, as i had not seen them in a week. My anticipation quickly dulled when the first question they asked was if i would take them to get the new Pokemon DS game; when i said that i was just stopping by to see them, there was no more interest in me. This, too, reinforces the consequences of my actions in 2008, and punishes me further

i tailored this set of clothes, i have no one else to blame for why i wear them, and the only comfort i get is in despising it.

Now you know, and i have no idea what your message was to me this morning because i deleted it accidentally....not sure there are any true accidents.

misplaced childhood

If you've ever taken mushrooms or acid, there is this fun little trick to do while you are tripping: look at yourself in the mirror and make yourself age. It's fun, as long as you can get past the image of the mirror breathing and pulsating.

i recently turned 44. Often i look in the mirror during my morning routine, not just to make sure no zits have made themselves known overnight, but occasionally to see if i am really looking at myself. Growing up, i was not confident about my appearance, and mirrors were excruciating; the really looking at myself ritual came about as a way to become more accepting of my face because, when forced to acknowledge it, i realized that i could waste the rest of my life regretting my face or embrace it.

Up until that point i had relied on women i had dated as mirrors. If they loved me, i must be attractive; if not, i must be ugly. Since the divorce, i could care less what others think, and in letting this go i have become more open. Being open is a beauty unto itself... too many years wasted not realizing that.

The Land & The Sea know they are beautiful, not only because i tell them but mostly because they will not grow in fear, apologizing for who they are physically, emotionally, intellectually.

i haven't taken hallucinogenics in 14 years, but have watched myself age in the mirror over 44 years, and still see the boy i had lost.

Left behind?

flogging

Blogging is not as easy as one thinks. When i started in 2006, it was a way to journal, as i have tried to keep some sort of record of my life since i was 13. i still keep a written one, as it allows for more creativity and storage of items such as ticket stubs, programs from piano recitals, photos and the like.

For the past six months i have found it hard to be creative- i am tired of writing about my relationships, as well as my divorce. It leaves little- The Land & The Sea, politics, quirky topics.

One blog i read, linked on my page, never seems to be at a loss for ideas. She lives in a major city, which must provide more fodder, and just has a great way of writing about everyday things. i thought about attempting a similar approach, but not sure i have it in me.

It brings me back to the same question every time: for whom i am writing this blog?

god dog

With this battle of believing in God or not, my "prayers" have changed.

Ever since i was a kid, i prayed while going to sleep at night, like the good little Catholic boy i had been taught to be. At 13 years old or so, the prayers became conversations: rather than listing out who or what i was praying for i started a stream of consciousness in my head. It took until i was in my 30's to start listening.

It is hard to say if i listen well enough. It is what draws me to Buddhism- listening, just opening up and taking in what is being communicated by the universe as a whole. It has served me well in almost all areas of my life- friendships, work, relationships.... with the divorce one big festering example of when i don't do it well.

In late 2008, i was driving home one night, going through my usual plea with the universe: please kill me. i was so angry that i had failed to take my own life, and secondly that i promised those close to me that i wouldn't try again, that it was only the universe that could fulfill that end. In the midst of tears, screaming and a never ending cushion of pain, a phrase jumped into my head:

"If you want it done, you'll have to do it yourself."

i am not quick to believe that that was God speaking, but i am fascinated by how it was so different from how thoughts normally ebb and flow in my head. Sure, it could have been my mind fulfilling my desire, but to this day i am suspicious about it.

At bedtime, i still talk. Perhaps i am talking to myself, but it serves a purpose- i am not sure there is a supernatural being listening, but there is a universe of beauty and soul that receives, as we should all receive, we should all listen. If people want to believe it is a kindly white haired man, or a fat bellied Asian man, or a female wearing a flowing gown of twigs, leaves and sunshine so be it.

with apologies to Nick Hornby

Current and past friends and acquaintances know that I am a music snob- i am not proud of it (well, at times i am), but there is very little in life that moves me like a great song.

While talking about a song or an album i will sometimes say that it is in my Top 20 or 50 favorites. i have never really ever compiled a list like that, but have been thinking about doing so. Bear with me:

Top 20 Favorite Albums (not ranked, all together on an even playing field):

1. 13 Songs, Fugazi
2. The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway, Genesis
3. Ocean Beach, The Red House Painters
4. Mercury, American Music Club
5. Tiny Cities, Sun Kil Moon
6. For Emma, Forever Ago, Bon Iver
7. Disintegration, The Cure
8. The Sky's Gone Out, Bauhaus
9. The Mission Soundtrack, Ennio Morricone
10. Murmur, REM
11. Candy Apple Grey, Husker Du
12. Crack The Sky, Crack The Sky
13. Moving Pictures, Rush
14. Jane's Addiction, Jane's Addiction
15. It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back, Public Enemy
16. Our Beloved Revolutionary Sweetheart, Camper Van Beethoven
17. Drenched, Miracle Legion
18. Quadrophenia, The Who
19. The Final Cut, Pink Floyd
20. Teaser & The Firecat, Cat Stevens


I reserve the right to change this at anytime.

and now, something completely different

In a recent conversation with Noire (yes, dating again- will say nothing more), she told me that while we were at her friend's birthday party in January 2010, she was jealous of this other woman who had asked me to play air hockey. She then went on to say that this women asked her friend afterward "what my story was..."

It's like all that unrequited love that i stored up in high school is finally catching up with me, and while it confuses the pimply faced thick glasses wearing kid that i was, the middle aged bald guy is even more so.

i think that i am the victim of an elaborate prank. But then again, life isn't to be taken seriously.

getting lost

One New Year's resolution was to explore Vermont more; i have a goal of settling there, and changing careers, later when the grrls are off to college.



The town i choose must meet the following criteria:

1. Be walkable/bikeable
2. Have a health club
3. Be socially & politically progressive
4 Have a coffee shop that serves Big Train (NOT Oregon) chai.

This past weekend i started with Woodstock. It meets numbers 1 and 3, but no good coffee shops. i forgot to ask about a health club. i stayed in a beautiful B&B (The Blue Horse Inn) where the owners were more than happy to answer my questions.



A big draw to Woodstock is the Queechee Gorge; one of the best hikes i've been on in years.

The best part about these trips? i travel alone- no need to interact, no itinerary, no schedule.

Heaven.

taijitu

The differences in The Land and The Sea's personalities are becoming more apparent and occupy my mind of late.

When i go into their room at night for the last tuck in, The Sea has a few of her stuffed animals positioned in a halo around her head; i am not sure if they are there to protect her or that she just wants order. The Land rarely has any stuffed animals in her bed, although she loves them just as much: between them, they have 60 at my house alone. There is no carnie stuffed animal prize they would snub.

The Land still keeps her emotions guarded, very analytical and intellectually condescending. The Sea is all love and kindness, quick with a hug. i used to wonder how a parent cannot love one child more than another, but understand perfectly now- while there are traits you love in one and not the other, there are still traits in the other that are endearing.

They continue to be my primary reason for moving on when the sadness of what i do not have cloaks me; but am never sure it is enough when i hear about their other family, and how happy they are to have two more sisters, how great Forunato is, how ExA and her family have absorbed them as though there was never anything that was us.