I've pretty much abandoned this blog for the last 6 months. It was certainly not for lack of subject matter. I suppose I've spent most of my time writing, sharing info and arguing with folks on the Austin city-data forum. Good stuff really. But ultimately it's not the same sort of focused essay writing that I feel I need to be doing, so I'll be paying this old gal a bit more attention in the future.
So if anyone ever looks at this blog anymore, rest assured it will start earning its place again.
Monday, October 06, 2008
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
More familiar faces
Since our friend's visit in early February, we have had two more wonderful visits. Firstly, my folks stayed in Austin for 3 nights on their circuitous return to Ohio from Florida, via Texas and then my friend Dave stayed for 5 nights while attending the SXSW Interactive Festival. While I was hoping - through repetition - to get progressively callused to the awkward moment of farewell, I still found myself feeling wistful and a quite sad after seeing these folks off. But I've also noticed that the time spent with these people during rare visits is much more meaningful now that our time together is limited. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder", is indeed a truism.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
There's no place like the feeling of Home
This past week, we had our first extended visit as new Austinites. My long-time buddy Fred, his wife Tamara and her sister Amanda(who are also our friends), came out for a five day, five night Lone Star Texaganza. Lots of drinking, eating, laughing, hanging, hiking, hugging and general good times were had by all. Since we've been here about 5 months, spending some quality time with familiar faces was really warming. There's something about the known and comfortable that cannot be matched and we have such great rapport with these folks, it felt as if we never left Cleveland.
But of course we did, and when they left we felt that nauseous pang for home which until then had been lurking just behind the sheer curtain of busy, ordinary life that seems to hide what's really going on in people's lives. We had gotten used to having them around and will have to readjust to the reality of 1400 miles. But it's not all sad, depressing and morose. We had a wonderful time showing them our new town and feel much more at home now, having had to be tour guides. We both feel a deeper affection for Austin now that we've had the opportunity to see it through our friend's eyes. Places look slightly different, now that we've had some variation of experiences with old friends. The Austin Motel, The Continental Club, Jo's, Doc's, The Broken Spoke, Momo's, The Velveeta Room: these places and localities now have a new quality they did not previously bear.
The next couple of months have us hosting my parents, my friend Dave and my wife's two long-time friends. Can't wait!
In the spirit of Fun, here's a couple of poser "band" photos that we took while hiking in the Hill Country...:)
But of course we did, and when they left we felt that nauseous pang for home which until then had been lurking just behind the sheer curtain of busy, ordinary life that seems to hide what's really going on in people's lives. We had gotten used to having them around and will have to readjust to the reality of 1400 miles. But it's not all sad, depressing and morose. We had a wonderful time showing them our new town and feel much more at home now, having had to be tour guides. We both feel a deeper affection for Austin now that we've had the opportunity to see it through our friend's eyes. Places look slightly different, now that we've had some variation of experiences with old friends. The Austin Motel, The Continental Club, Jo's, Doc's, The Broken Spoke, Momo's, The Velveeta Room: these places and localities now have a new quality they did not previously bear.
The next couple of months have us hosting my parents, my friend Dave and my wife's two long-time friends. Can't wait!
In the spirit of Fun, here's a couple of poser "band" photos that we took while hiking in the Hill Country...:)
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Manifest Destiny?
This is by far, the longest I've gone yet without posting. Ironically, the last several months have been one hell of an eventful time and so would seem like a justification for having a blog. My plan was to check in regularly during this busy time, waxing sarcastic, ironic and even poetic about all of the goings and comings of our move to Austin. But it seems that the garbage can that is my brain was simply too full and overflowing with other items that I just didn't get to things. And so here I am, three months after moving to a different "hardiness zone", attempting to garner attention to a moment long past due. The procrastinator has re-emerged. Oh well, I guess a pig can't stop being pink just because he wants to...
Since we've been here for almost 3 months now and the details of everything that's happened over the last 6 months will quickly begin to get smaller in the rear-view mirror, I think it might be now or never. So in the face of irrelevance, here is a chronicle of our very eventful summer into fall into winter that starts in Lakewood, Ohio and ends(only to begin anew) in Austin, Texas. It is very long. The longest post yet, so give yourself some time to enjoy or simply close this window.
Nothing is easy.
Though time gets you worrying
my friend, it's o.k.
Just take your life easy
and stop all that hurrying,
be happy my way.
-Jethro Tull
Buying a home is one of the biggest, most important financial decisions you will ever make in your life. You're basically putting all of your (future!) money on "red", rolling the dice and crossing your fingers. At best, you'll be happy in your new place and the neighborhood will appreciate so that when/if the time comes to move on, you'll have a pile of chips to lay down on the next number. At worst, you'll hate your house, the neighborhood will go to hell and you'll either get stuck there because you can't sell it or you'll either lose money, break even or make very little. Most people end up somewhere in between. Assuming a 30 year fixed mortgage, by the time the house is paid off you'll probably end up paying more than twice the buying price anyways, with all of the interest, mortgage insurance and other hideous fees and taxes. Unless of course you pay cash up front, which is a rare opportunity for most folks.
So you do it anyway, have buyer's remorse when you look at your first statement, get over it and start spending even more money (that you don't have) remodeling and decorating so that the place feels more like "home". This is an interesting generational quirk. Growing up I don't remember my parents being nearly as obsessed with home remodeling/decorating as people are today. The place was just our house. It was safe, reasonably clean, we had a yard in which to play, dinner together most evenings. We just lived there. It wasn't a museum or the set of "Make Your House Look Cooler and More Zen-Like Than Your Neighbor's, So That When You Entertain, They'll Be Jealous and Impressed, Show" (insert cool, hip beat with a slight world-culture theme-possibly Asian?). I say this because I'm kind of like that. I enjoy making my place look nice and inviting, but I probably spend too much time and money and I must have it now...
We went through this 8 years ago when we bought our duplex in Lakewood. We probably paid a wee-bit too much for the house and certainly spent a lot of money keeping the place up. Most of what we did was cosmetic to medium-type jobs, so we never sank a ton of money into the place, but because it was built in 1922, there was a constant stream of projects to occupy my time. This was sort of a labor of love, since there's tremendous gratification in doing something yourself. I certainly learned a lot. But it was a fairly large duplex building, and I felt sort of "over it" in terms of my time commitment. The next place we buy will be smaller to be sure, or maybe even some sort of condo or townhouse.
That brings us to the near recent: selling a house. This has the capacity to be a much more stressful transaction. Our situation in particular called for a fairly quick resolution, with job pending in the new city, starting on a certain date. Our choices were as follows:
1.) Try and sell the house before we move, but not too far ahead, since we didn't want to move into a "halfway house" and pay for storage.
2.) Move anyway and keep the house on the market while paying rent and a mortgage. Not an option for us.
3.) Rent both units out and manage the property from 1400 miles away and hope the place doesn't become a crack-house and/or brothel. Paying someone to manage it does not guarantee that any of those things won't happen as most property management companies are off-site and can't always be trusted. Everyone smiles in person.
Selling the house was clearly our best choice but in the market that Ohio's in right now, is by no means a foregone conclusion. Duplex sales have been especially stagnant in Lakewood with 80-90 units collecting dust. So we put the house on the market, priced it aggressively(in other words, lower than we wanted and less than the city's appraisal used to set our property tax), and moved ahead with our future plans. If the place didn't sell, plan B was to go the rental route and hope to find someone we trusted to manage it for us.
The first two months saw very little action. Once we got over the novelty of seeing a "For Sale" sign in the yard, we started to get anxious. Our timetable really suggested a late July, early August sale before we had to eject and go to plan B. At the same time, we needed to get an early start on finding a place in Austin before the mad rush of college students swarmed the affordable apartment market. So, in mid-July, we scheduled a trip to Austin to meet with an apartment locator to help us find a place for at least the first year. For us, staying in an apartment, scouting the city for a year to get a feel for the market made sense. Austin's real estate market is very robust so decisions need to be made quickly and assertively. I booked the appointment a month ahead, so when we got to the office, they already had a profile on us and a general idea of what we were looking to find. After a short, interview we headed out with the agent, and eventually settled on a place we felt was a good combination of location, price and amenities. By that I mean: something close to the city and to my wife's job, under $800 a month, and a place that would take our dog and cat, had a pool, outdoor space, a reasonably modern kitchen and some good storage. Since I'll be working primarily from home, this would also enable us to ditch our second car.
Since we found a place on day two of a seven-day trip, the rest of the week was spent exploring and hanging around my uncle-in-law's amazing house. On the fourth day however, our realtor called: we had a bite on the house.
I can't explain the excitement that phone call generated. Hoping against all hope, we tried to think positive and finish out the rest of the week knowing we couldn't really do anything but wait for a phone call. Ironically, the guy interested was from Texas and if his friend liked it, he was going to pay cash. My mind immediately started to worry about things I couldn't control, like picky inspectors, bugs/pest showing up at the worst time, hot water tanks/furnaces dying, roof leaking. Insanity really. Upon returning home, it took much effort on my wife's part to keep me from obsessing over details and phantom fix-it projects but after another detailed walk-through, a bid was made and we accepted.
Game on.
Now this where the fun really starts. Generally, there's an inherit tension between the buyer and seller of any goods. Due to the magnitude of such a transaction, this tension seems to be multiplied exponentially as the rounds of give-and-take commence. Nobody likes to lose. From the seller's viewpoint, there are psychological as well as financial thresholds and boundaries to work through. A seller often quantifies a home's value based on emotional connections that may or may not be out of step with a potential buyer's needs. Also, there is a tendency of sellers to expect a mutual return on the effort and capital applied to the house. In other words: I should be rewarded for my effort and time, right? Well, not really. The housing market is not based on sentimental, emotional or sweat equatorial relationships but by a simple supply and demand formula.
Reminds me of an 80s song by Megadeth: "Peace Sells, but Who's Buyin'?"
From a buyer's point of view, the seller is always hiding something. The price is always inflated for wiggle room or just in case some sucker doesn't know any better and just pays the asking price without negotiating. Anyway, the most important thing for us was to sell the house at a reasonable price, while not paying anything out of our pockets and maybe getting a little bit of gold to throw into our sack just for trying. If our realtor made more than us, so be it as long as our interests were met. That's the nature of trying to sell a house quickly in a bad market.
Everything was going along nicely until the inspection. Having been through this myself when we bought the place, I knew there would be a list of things found and that we would then negotiate what I would and would not fix. As long as it wasn't anything excessive, things would turn out alright. We would give a little - the buyer would give a little. Again, to recapitulate the main theme: Nothing Is Easy.
Of the list the inspector made, there were three items the buyer wanted me to fix before he was willing to sign:
1.) There was a tiny gas leak around an old pipe connection near one of the dryers.
2.) The inspector found unacceptable traces of CO around both furnaces(this house is a duplex)
3.) While the driveway as a whole will need to get replaced, 4 slabs around and including two slabs of the sidewalk were particularly egregious and would need to be fixed.
Well, at least it was nothing major!
At this point, the buyer was starting to back away, feeling anxious and second-guessing the transaction. This house that I had loved and improved, had bitten me in the backside leaving me feeling like a jilted lover, confused and betrayed. The romantic in me felt I had a relationship with this house. That it knew I wanted to pass it on to good, caring hands and that it would feel gratitude towards me.
"Snap out of it, you sentimental ass! It's a house, not a rescued cat"...jeez, how sobering. Time to get to business and close this deal. "Excuse me Mr. Diabolus, what do I need to do to get this thing wrapped up?"
The first two were relatively easy and cheap(great combo!) to fix. I called the furnace guy and he came out and took readings and it was agreed that because of the old furnace design, the initial CO readings disperse rather quickly and were not a threat physically or operationally. The gas leak was a two minute job: since the pipe was not being used, he just cut it and put a cap on it. The whole thing cost us $75.00.
Number three was a little harder. I could have just hired someone to do the job but it would have cost well over $1000 between materials, labor and removal. Since I didn't want to spend a grand-plus on a driveway I would use for only a month, we needed a plan and quick.
Enter our friend Amanda. With a construction background, connections to materials and honest generosity, she assured me that if I could break up the old concrete and find a "place" for it, that she could get the job done for the price of materials alone. Her friend Tom owed her a favor and she was willing to cash in that chip to help us sell our house. That kind gesture will never be forgotten by either my wife or myself. In a world of foolishness, that kind of generosity rekindles my faith in the upright animals we call people. So the only thing left to do, was grab a sledgehammer, put on my Alan Lomax collection of prison songs and get to breakin' rocks.
Here's a few images of the removal:
My wife's cousin Matt came over with his pickup and hauled three loads of busted up concrete to a dump he has access to which also saved us money. My dad came over with his truck and we took the last load of dirt, rocks and roots to the Lakewood public waste department. I never got charged the $20 for that so I suppose some more good karma had been approved to come my way at the last minute.
For some strange reason, I never took photos of the finished job. I suppose I was just glad to be done and just moved on to other tasks but suffice to say, it looked awesome, the buyer was satisfied, signed the necessary papers and the deal went through. All told, everything worked out: The realtor did a good job, the buyer got the house he wanted and just like that, our house was sold. We could now start packing and preparing for the 1,400 mile move staring us square in face.
Moving Out
Hitch Your Wagon to a Star
-Ralph Waldo Emerson
I never thought I would find myself living in Texas. To many, it has a pungent aroma that can be hard to take. A land full of colorful, outgoing, hard-working, enterprising, independent, and often brilliant people; not afraid to speak their mind, even when they might sound arrogant, boastful, backwards and stubborn. Like most stereotypes, the classic Texan can be an iconic figure that you either love or hate. I admit, my lower opinions of Texas and its people have been generally made up of an aggregate of hearsay, Hollywood caricature, political lampooning, and a perceived backwardness that is often portrayed in popular culture. Like most stereotypes: New Yorkers(smug and cynical), West-Coasters(flaky and happy), Midwesterners(normal and plain) and Southerners(poor but friendly), Texans' many qualities while sometimes accurate, are often erroneous as well. Texas sure has its share of gun-toting gorillas, an egregious over-abundance of giant trucks and SUVs barging their way across the state and a huge army of zealous, sometimes irrational fundamental religious bullies. It does have those things. It also has a ton of music and art, four fairly large cities, great regional food, prominent Hispanic culture, deserts, mountains, hills, swamps, plains, piney woods, lakes, rivers, and ocean coasts. There are big bugs, snakes, Republicans, armadillos, ringtails, javalinas, coyotes, Libertarians, cactus, agaves, yuccas, palms, oaks, Democrats...in other words: Texas is a big place with a lot of different things to offer. You can fit six Ohios inside of it.
These were the thoughts going through my head as we were packing up our stuff and preparing to move to the Lone Star State. Moments of excitement and adventure mingled with fear, panic and doubt were at times consuming for the both of us. Many people leave a place because they have negative feelings or memories with which they cannot reconcile. This was not the case for us. Our situation in Cleveland was great. We were surrounded by many friends and family, we had a house, a yard, a generally comfortable lifestyle. While often frustrated with the city's lack of gumption and foresight, it is our hometown none-the-less and if we don't love it, who will? But at some point it's necessary to change into another pair of pants, otherwise you'll simply wear them out. This is how we were beginning to feel about living in Cleveland: a comfy, ripped up pair of jeans. Why not mix things up a bit? And besides, if we don't like Austin, we can go somewhere else. Leaving Cleveland, the Mothership, was the hard part.
The one part of moving I like, is going through your possessions and reconsidering the importance of certain things. This can be heart-wrenching but also very therapeutic and cleansing. My wife and I often disagree on these decisions as I can be a bit of a purger and she a pack rat. Because we were moving to a much smaller space, I felt it was absolutely crucial to make severe cuts, as the idea of lugging things 1400 miles away only to discover we can't use them seemed foolish. However, I have been known to sometimes make hasty decisions only to regret them later so in the end, we both got our way without too much bloodshed.
No matter how organized you think you are, there's always some sloppy moments during a move. Things you put off until the last minute, hastily throwing stuff into bags and boxes, or just tossing things into the garbage. Overall, we were packed and ready but there were some really heavy pieces that we just couldn't carry ourselves. What we needed were bodies. I hate asking people to help me move. It's fun the first time, but after that, it's sort of like asking someone if you can borrow money. Just tacky and maybe even a bit shady. But we really had no choice and since we were doing this thing ourselves, we just couldn't afford to hire movers. My wife's company gave us a good amount towards expenses but all of that money would go towards the truck rental. So I leaked out an implicit plea for help and we got a generous crew that came and went as was convenient for them and over the course of the day, got about 90% of the 26' truck loaded up. Laura and I finished up the next morning(with a little help from my wife's friend and her daughter). I simply can't thank all of those people enough. It made me realize how fortunate the two of us really are to have so many good people in our lives.
My "plan" was to finish packing the truck in one day, relax and grab some local food, get a good nights rest and get on the road early the next day. I would be driving the truck - a longtime truck-driver fantasy finally fulfilled - my wife would drive the car with the dog, cat and many of our houseplants(yes I know, ridiculous but we like our plants and new ones are expensive). Instead of a miserable two-day powerdrive, we would take 4 days, visit some friends in Nashville along the way and try to enjoy the adventure. But alas, we didn't get the truck fully loaded so we didn't really get to relax, or enjoy a leisurely meal and some beers. And since our fruitbat cat yowled endlessly all night long in our now empty, echo-chamber of a house, we didn't get any decent sleep either. So the next day we finished packing, took care of some last minute details and prepared to leave. It's strange but walking through the house one last time wasn't as emotional as I might have expected. Sure, my memory was flooded with past moments and I made little mental observations about various details, but I didn't feel sad. Without our personal possessions, the house just felt like an empty space, made up of wood, plaster and glass. It wasn't our home anymore. Like a body that dies, it no longer held the actual spirit and meaning that we loved and admire. Those things only continue in our own minds and memories.
It was 3:30 pm. So much for an early start. We had a hotel(motel, really...)reserved that night in Louisville, Ky so we had about a 6 hr drive ahead of us. Both of our next-door neighbors came out to wish us well. They were both very sweet and it was sort of awkward and wistful to say goodbye. I remember saying farewell to "Bear", the dog next door who was always buddies with our dog Abby. Just before we left, our neighbor took a picture of us. At this point we were literally locked out of the house we owned and lived in for eight years. The doors I stripped, sanded and refinished were now closed to me. We didn't live there anymore.
Pulling away was weird. Not as emotional as I expected, but sort of peculiar and queer.
Me: "That's the last time as a resident of this town that I'll drive by that tree, turn left at that stop sign, get on this freeway. You can never go back. I'm driving away from my house, with all of my possessions in a Penske diesel truck, my wife and critters following behind me...what the hell am I doing?"
Another voice: "Moving to Texas you over-analytical mama's boy. Now quit with the neurosis and start driving. They'll be time for whimsy later..."
We got to Louisville by about 10pm. Not too late. The hotel was dump, but the sheets were clean and we got free wifi so all was good. At this point, we were pretty hungry, so I went down to the lobby and asked the manager if there was any food close by. He informed me that there was a McDonalds, Taco bell and the Gas Station next door. Since I was tired, hungry and in no mood for foolishness, I figured I'd just go to the "Gas Station" and see what they had. Well, not so good. The typical snacks, sodas, beef jerkey, candy bars, cheap cigars and the "real-food" selections of taquitos, hotdogs and sausages rotating endlessly on a greasy conveyor belt-like affair, microwavable hamburgers, burritos, ham and cheese...basically garbage disguised as food.
Taco bell it was...at least it tastes good, even if all of the flavors are made in labs.
The next day we had a short 4-hour drive to Nashville, where we would be staying with my buddy Dave and his wife Kathy. Beat from the previous two days, we slept in a bit and hit the road around noon. They had just moved down there in June, so we were excited to see their new place, hang out and get a small taste of Nashville. On the way, we stopped at a gas station/Subway(the new evil duo), but instead of sitting in the restaurant, we just ordered to go, laid a big blanket out on the big patch of grass that was planted there for no reason what-so-ever and had a picnic. The animals were glad to get out of the car and it seemed that people thought we were sort of amusing. When we were done, my wife took this photo of me in all my faux trucker-fantasy glory:
We had a great time in Nashville, although it was a bummer saying goodbye to our friends again. After seeing them off a few months earlier, then saying farewell to everyone else before we moved, there was a slight feeling of loneliness hanging around me for the first few hours after we left. But the drive through Tennessee was really beautiful and the weather was decent, so before long my mood had made a nice rebound. Also, listening to an audio book of the last Harry Potter book helped to keep my mind in a suspended state of fantasy!
Before we left Cleveland, there was significant discussion pertaining to the coordination of driving separate for such a long distance. It was necessary for us to do this because of expense and logistics. So while our first choice would have been to get a POD and just drive together with the animals, it simply was not an option. So, caravan it was to be.
Now, too many things can turn sideways during a caravan, contributing to confusion, disagreement and safety issues. What happens if someone lags behind and takes the wrong exit? Needs to make a pit stop? Has a car problem? Also, when driving a large truck, an extra pair of eyes is always welcome, especially when changing or merging lanes. Here's where I must give credit where it's due. My father, always being the clever, sensible, responsible foreman, insisted that we had a quality pair of two-way radios(i.e. walkie-talkies). I responded "oh, that sounds like fun!", to which he responded "they're not for fun but for practical purposes". Well I must say, they were both fun and useful and I simply cannot imagine doing that trip without them. They constantly proved their worth to us for both practical, conversational and entertainment purposes. How else would I have heard my cat's distressful meows if my wife hadn't placed the mic in front of her panicked maw?
The drive from Nashville to Texarkana, TX was probably the dreariest of the whole trip. Not for lack of scenery. Quite the contrary as Tennessee and Arkansas are both interesting. Tennessee is hilly and rugged while Southern Arkansas flattens out but crosses the Mississippi River. This Delta region is very beautiful and serene. Being from Ohio, I'm certainly not a flatland hater as there is beauty in every kind of landscape. The problem with this leg of the drive was the condition of the road. Absolutely hideous. Arkansas is a fairly poor state and so I suppose it should come as no surprise that it's road conditions are in disrepair. It was bad enough for my wife, driving in a small wagon but for me, it was downright rugged. I was literally bouncing in my seat at times, maps, drinks, snacks, ipod all flying around the front seat. This of course, contributed to an ill state of affairs in terms of mood, quelling my sense of adventure(then again, not all adventure is fun...) and wreaking havoc on my lower back. Maybe being a trucker isn't that cool after all?
By the end of the day, we were both tired, cranky, hungry and in full "staring at the yellow lines" mode. We had a hotel reservation in Texarkana, TX, on the state line(home of Scott Joplin!) and once we found the place in the maze of hotels, fast food and various interstate detritus, settled down for a well needed overnight rest.
The last day from Texarkana to Austin was pretty uneventful, in a good way. We drove through Dallas for the first time and were surprised to find how interesting it looked. A modern, sleek, shining, collection of phallic monoliths rising out of the flat prairie. I have many pre-conceived notions about Dallas, but at some point I will try to set them aside and give it an honest look.
We got into Austin about 4:30pm, which was really cutting it close, since the office closed at 5pm and we needed to sign one more form and pick up our keys. But we made it, and the apartment seemed pretty close to what we expected: a 1980s sort of generic place with carpet(blah!), but with a huge walk-in closet, a nice layout and a great outdoor space. I might add that this was the first time that we actually saw our apartment in person. When we looked at the complex in July, all they could show us was a floor plan and something similar, so we were really hoping that our measurements were accurate and that we didn't haul a bunch of crap 1400 miles for nothing. So, after looking the place over, getting something to eat, letting the animals sniff about, we moved on to the next phase...
Moving In
Nowhere to go but up.
When we picked out this apartment, we knew that the move-in would be brutal. We would be on our own, it would be hot and we would have to carry everything up 39 steps to our 3rd-floor apartment. Since we arrived late on a Saturday, our plan was to peck away at the huge task ourselves, at our own pace and then hire two local movers to help with the large, heavy furniture on Monday morning. This worked pretty well, since we packed all of the really heavy stuff first and in the front of the truck, allowing us access to at least two-thirds of the contents. By the time the movers got there on Monday, we had a little over half of the truck unloaded and carried up to our place. Two fairly bulky dudes showed up and got right to business. I helped as well, carrying everything that I could take by myself. The weather was pretty darn hot(94degrees), so it was important to drink lots of fluids. The guys had a couple of gatorades each and we gave them water as well.
Everything was going as well as expected until the guys got to my beloved mid-century oak credenza.
I got this piece of furniture from my grandmother via my mother. She was the live-in housekeeper of some very wealthy folks back in Altoona, P.A. for twenty-some years, and when she retired, they gave her a bunch of great, old furniture. I have always admired this piece and when I was a kid, loved playing with the old keys and opening and closing the very well-crafted doors. When I bought a house, my mother asked me if I wanted it and I of course accepted! It was custom made for this rich guy's fine shirts and so has very shallow drawers. It's a great man's dresser.
Before we left Ohio, I made certain that I stored the keys in a "safe place" so as not to lose them. I also put the drawers back in for easier transport, as well as fifteen small oak shelves from my CD cabinet. Why not use the space? Of course, when the movers were ready to haul this sucker up three floors...I couldn't remember which box(safe place) I put the keys. So while the piece was heavy to begin with, it now had about 75lbs of unnecessary items inside of it, which made it a real man-killer. I felt really bad, and warned them to be careful. The guy in charge, confident with hubris said "well, let's just get after it..."
Famous last words.
They got about two-thirds of the way up when this guy came running up to the apartment and asked politely(but under great duress) if he could "use" our bathroom. Well, we all knew what was happening in there as the sounds of retching and coughing, slid under the door. "Better him than me", I thought. After a bit he came out, mortified, apologetic and a little pale and resumed the quest. They finally got the thing into the apartment and while it had a few scuffs, I didn't have the heart to bitch.
Epilogue
Well, we got everything in and spent the next month digging out, setting up and re-organizing. After several trips to the local IKEA for shelving and storage, we finally got everything in place. Coming from a house to an apartment is quite challenging as everything needs to fit or you feel like you're living in a Goodwill showroom. We no longer have the luxury(curse) of chucking things into the abyss that was our attic, basement or garage. I have to say, the smaller profile is very appealing at the moment. We know what and where everything we own is placed. We've even thinned out more since moving and have our apartment organized according to all the important Feng Shui principles and requirements, which is of course crucial.
So I guess we're back to the beginning. We are where we were. Our black-belt has turned white again. Lots to learn.
Since we've been here for almost 3 months now and the details of everything that's happened over the last 6 months will quickly begin to get smaller in the rear-view mirror, I think it might be now or never. So in the face of irrelevance, here is a chronicle of our very eventful summer into fall into winter that starts in Lakewood, Ohio and ends(only to begin anew) in Austin, Texas. It is very long. The longest post yet, so give yourself some time to enjoy or simply close this window.
Nothing is easy.
Though time gets you worrying
my friend, it's o.k.
Just take your life easy
and stop all that hurrying,
be happy my way.
-Jethro Tull
Buying a home is one of the biggest, most important financial decisions you will ever make in your life. You're basically putting all of your (future!) money on "red", rolling the dice and crossing your fingers. At best, you'll be happy in your new place and the neighborhood will appreciate so that when/if the time comes to move on, you'll have a pile of chips to lay down on the next number. At worst, you'll hate your house, the neighborhood will go to hell and you'll either get stuck there because you can't sell it or you'll either lose money, break even or make very little. Most people end up somewhere in between. Assuming a 30 year fixed mortgage, by the time the house is paid off you'll probably end up paying more than twice the buying price anyways, with all of the interest, mortgage insurance and other hideous fees and taxes. Unless of course you pay cash up front, which is a rare opportunity for most folks.
So you do it anyway, have buyer's remorse when you look at your first statement, get over it and start spending even more money (that you don't have) remodeling and decorating so that the place feels more like "home". This is an interesting generational quirk. Growing up I don't remember my parents being nearly as obsessed with home remodeling/decorating as people are today. The place was just our house. It was safe, reasonably clean, we had a yard in which to play, dinner together most evenings. We just lived there. It wasn't a museum or the set of "Make Your House Look Cooler and More Zen-Like Than Your Neighbor's, So That When You Entertain, They'll Be Jealous and Impressed, Show" (insert cool, hip beat with a slight world-culture theme-possibly Asian?). I say this because I'm kind of like that. I enjoy making my place look nice and inviting, but I probably spend too much time and money and I must have it now...
We went through this 8 years ago when we bought our duplex in Lakewood. We probably paid a wee-bit too much for the house and certainly spent a lot of money keeping the place up. Most of what we did was cosmetic to medium-type jobs, so we never sank a ton of money into the place, but because it was built in 1922, there was a constant stream of projects to occupy my time. This was sort of a labor of love, since there's tremendous gratification in doing something yourself. I certainly learned a lot. But it was a fairly large duplex building, and I felt sort of "over it" in terms of my time commitment. The next place we buy will be smaller to be sure, or maybe even some sort of condo or townhouse.
That brings us to the near recent: selling a house. This has the capacity to be a much more stressful transaction. Our situation in particular called for a fairly quick resolution, with job pending in the new city, starting on a certain date. Our choices were as follows:
1.) Try and sell the house before we move, but not too far ahead, since we didn't want to move into a "halfway house" and pay for storage.
2.) Move anyway and keep the house on the market while paying rent and a mortgage. Not an option for us.
3.) Rent both units out and manage the property from 1400 miles away and hope the place doesn't become a crack-house and/or brothel. Paying someone to manage it does not guarantee that any of those things won't happen as most property management companies are off-site and can't always be trusted. Everyone smiles in person.
Selling the house was clearly our best choice but in the market that Ohio's in right now, is by no means a foregone conclusion. Duplex sales have been especially stagnant in Lakewood with 80-90 units collecting dust. So we put the house on the market, priced it aggressively(in other words, lower than we wanted and less than the city's appraisal used to set our property tax), and moved ahead with our future plans. If the place didn't sell, plan B was to go the rental route and hope to find someone we trusted to manage it for us.
The first two months saw very little action. Once we got over the novelty of seeing a "For Sale" sign in the yard, we started to get anxious. Our timetable really suggested a late July, early August sale before we had to eject and go to plan B. At the same time, we needed to get an early start on finding a place in Austin before the mad rush of college students swarmed the affordable apartment market. So, in mid-July, we scheduled a trip to Austin to meet with an apartment locator to help us find a place for at least the first year. For us, staying in an apartment, scouting the city for a year to get a feel for the market made sense. Austin's real estate market is very robust so decisions need to be made quickly and assertively. I booked the appointment a month ahead, so when we got to the office, they already had a profile on us and a general idea of what we were looking to find. After a short, interview we headed out with the agent, and eventually settled on a place we felt was a good combination of location, price and amenities. By that I mean: something close to the city and to my wife's job, under $800 a month, and a place that would take our dog and cat, had a pool, outdoor space, a reasonably modern kitchen and some good storage. Since I'll be working primarily from home, this would also enable us to ditch our second car.
Since we found a place on day two of a seven-day trip, the rest of the week was spent exploring and hanging around my uncle-in-law's amazing house. On the fourth day however, our realtor called: we had a bite on the house.
I can't explain the excitement that phone call generated. Hoping against all hope, we tried to think positive and finish out the rest of the week knowing we couldn't really do anything but wait for a phone call. Ironically, the guy interested was from Texas and if his friend liked it, he was going to pay cash. My mind immediately started to worry about things I couldn't control, like picky inspectors, bugs/pest showing up at the worst time, hot water tanks/furnaces dying, roof leaking. Insanity really. Upon returning home, it took much effort on my wife's part to keep me from obsessing over details and phantom fix-it projects but after another detailed walk-through, a bid was made and we accepted.
Game on.
Now this where the fun really starts. Generally, there's an inherit tension between the buyer and seller of any goods. Due to the magnitude of such a transaction, this tension seems to be multiplied exponentially as the rounds of give-and-take commence. Nobody likes to lose. From the seller's viewpoint, there are psychological as well as financial thresholds and boundaries to work through. A seller often quantifies a home's value based on emotional connections that may or may not be out of step with a potential buyer's needs. Also, there is a tendency of sellers to expect a mutual return on the effort and capital applied to the house. In other words: I should be rewarded for my effort and time, right? Well, not really. The housing market is not based on sentimental, emotional or sweat equatorial relationships but by a simple supply and demand formula.
Reminds me of an 80s song by Megadeth: "Peace Sells, but Who's Buyin'?"
From a buyer's point of view, the seller is always hiding something. The price is always inflated for wiggle room or just in case some sucker doesn't know any better and just pays the asking price without negotiating. Anyway, the most important thing for us was to sell the house at a reasonable price, while not paying anything out of our pockets and maybe getting a little bit of gold to throw into our sack just for trying. If our realtor made more than us, so be it as long as our interests were met. That's the nature of trying to sell a house quickly in a bad market.
Everything was going along nicely until the inspection. Having been through this myself when we bought the place, I knew there would be a list of things found and that we would then negotiate what I would and would not fix. As long as it wasn't anything excessive, things would turn out alright. We would give a little - the buyer would give a little. Again, to recapitulate the main theme: Nothing Is Easy.
Of the list the inspector made, there were three items the buyer wanted me to fix before he was willing to sign:
1.) There was a tiny gas leak around an old pipe connection near one of the dryers.
2.) The inspector found unacceptable traces of CO around both furnaces(this house is a duplex)
3.) While the driveway as a whole will need to get replaced, 4 slabs around and including two slabs of the sidewalk were particularly egregious and would need to be fixed.
Well, at least it was nothing major!
At this point, the buyer was starting to back away, feeling anxious and second-guessing the transaction. This house that I had loved and improved, had bitten me in the backside leaving me feeling like a jilted lover, confused and betrayed. The romantic in me felt I had a relationship with this house. That it knew I wanted to pass it on to good, caring hands and that it would feel gratitude towards me.
"Snap out of it, you sentimental ass! It's a house, not a rescued cat"...jeez, how sobering. Time to get to business and close this deal. "Excuse me Mr. Diabolus, what do I need to do to get this thing wrapped up?"
The first two were relatively easy and cheap(great combo!) to fix. I called the furnace guy and he came out and took readings and it was agreed that because of the old furnace design, the initial CO readings disperse rather quickly and were not a threat physically or operationally. The gas leak was a two minute job: since the pipe was not being used, he just cut it and put a cap on it. The whole thing cost us $75.00.
Number three was a little harder. I could have just hired someone to do the job but it would have cost well over $1000 between materials, labor and removal. Since I didn't want to spend a grand-plus on a driveway I would use for only a month, we needed a plan and quick.
Enter our friend Amanda. With a construction background, connections to materials and honest generosity, she assured me that if I could break up the old concrete and find a "place" for it, that she could get the job done for the price of materials alone. Her friend Tom owed her a favor and she was willing to cash in that chip to help us sell our house. That kind gesture will never be forgotten by either my wife or myself. In a world of foolishness, that kind of generosity rekindles my faith in the upright animals we call people. So the only thing left to do, was grab a sledgehammer, put on my Alan Lomax collection of prison songs and get to breakin' rocks.
Here's a few images of the removal:
My wife's cousin Matt came over with his pickup and hauled three loads of busted up concrete to a dump he has access to which also saved us money. My dad came over with his truck and we took the last load of dirt, rocks and roots to the Lakewood public waste department. I never got charged the $20 for that so I suppose some more good karma had been approved to come my way at the last minute.
For some strange reason, I never took photos of the finished job. I suppose I was just glad to be done and just moved on to other tasks but suffice to say, it looked awesome, the buyer was satisfied, signed the necessary papers and the deal went through. All told, everything worked out: The realtor did a good job, the buyer got the house he wanted and just like that, our house was sold. We could now start packing and preparing for the 1,400 mile move staring us square in face.
Moving Out
Hitch Your Wagon to a Star
-Ralph Waldo Emerson
I never thought I would find myself living in Texas. To many, it has a pungent aroma that can be hard to take. A land full of colorful, outgoing, hard-working, enterprising, independent, and often brilliant people; not afraid to speak their mind, even when they might sound arrogant, boastful, backwards and stubborn. Like most stereotypes, the classic Texan can be an iconic figure that you either love or hate. I admit, my lower opinions of Texas and its people have been generally made up of an aggregate of hearsay, Hollywood caricature, political lampooning, and a perceived backwardness that is often portrayed in popular culture. Like most stereotypes: New Yorkers(smug and cynical), West-Coasters(flaky and happy), Midwesterners(normal and plain) and Southerners(poor but friendly), Texans' many qualities while sometimes accurate, are often erroneous as well. Texas sure has its share of gun-toting gorillas, an egregious over-abundance of giant trucks and SUVs barging their way across the state and a huge army of zealous, sometimes irrational fundamental religious bullies. It does have those things. It also has a ton of music and art, four fairly large cities, great regional food, prominent Hispanic culture, deserts, mountains, hills, swamps, plains, piney woods, lakes, rivers, and ocean coasts. There are big bugs, snakes, Republicans, armadillos, ringtails, javalinas, coyotes, Libertarians, cactus, agaves, yuccas, palms, oaks, Democrats...in other words: Texas is a big place with a lot of different things to offer. You can fit six Ohios inside of it.
These were the thoughts going through my head as we were packing up our stuff and preparing to move to the Lone Star State. Moments of excitement and adventure mingled with fear, panic and doubt were at times consuming for the both of us. Many people leave a place because they have negative feelings or memories with which they cannot reconcile. This was not the case for us. Our situation in Cleveland was great. We were surrounded by many friends and family, we had a house, a yard, a generally comfortable lifestyle. While often frustrated with the city's lack of gumption and foresight, it is our hometown none-the-less and if we don't love it, who will? But at some point it's necessary to change into another pair of pants, otherwise you'll simply wear them out. This is how we were beginning to feel about living in Cleveland: a comfy, ripped up pair of jeans. Why not mix things up a bit? And besides, if we don't like Austin, we can go somewhere else. Leaving Cleveland, the Mothership, was the hard part.
The one part of moving I like, is going through your possessions and reconsidering the importance of certain things. This can be heart-wrenching but also very therapeutic and cleansing. My wife and I often disagree on these decisions as I can be a bit of a purger and she a pack rat. Because we were moving to a much smaller space, I felt it was absolutely crucial to make severe cuts, as the idea of lugging things 1400 miles away only to discover we can't use them seemed foolish. However, I have been known to sometimes make hasty decisions only to regret them later so in the end, we both got our way without too much bloodshed.
No matter how organized you think you are, there's always some sloppy moments during a move. Things you put off until the last minute, hastily throwing stuff into bags and boxes, or just tossing things into the garbage. Overall, we were packed and ready but there were some really heavy pieces that we just couldn't carry ourselves. What we needed were bodies. I hate asking people to help me move. It's fun the first time, but after that, it's sort of like asking someone if you can borrow money. Just tacky and maybe even a bit shady. But we really had no choice and since we were doing this thing ourselves, we just couldn't afford to hire movers. My wife's company gave us a good amount towards expenses but all of that money would go towards the truck rental. So I leaked out an implicit plea for help and we got a generous crew that came and went as was convenient for them and over the course of the day, got about 90% of the 26' truck loaded up. Laura and I finished up the next morning(with a little help from my wife's friend and her daughter). I simply can't thank all of those people enough. It made me realize how fortunate the two of us really are to have so many good people in our lives.
My "plan" was to finish packing the truck in one day, relax and grab some local food, get a good nights rest and get on the road early the next day. I would be driving the truck - a longtime truck-driver fantasy finally fulfilled - my wife would drive the car with the dog, cat and many of our houseplants(yes I know, ridiculous but we like our plants and new ones are expensive). Instead of a miserable two-day powerdrive, we would take 4 days, visit some friends in Nashville along the way and try to enjoy the adventure. But alas, we didn't get the truck fully loaded so we didn't really get to relax, or enjoy a leisurely meal and some beers. And since our fruitbat cat yowled endlessly all night long in our now empty, echo-chamber of a house, we didn't get any decent sleep either. So the next day we finished packing, took care of some last minute details and prepared to leave. It's strange but walking through the house one last time wasn't as emotional as I might have expected. Sure, my memory was flooded with past moments and I made little mental observations about various details, but I didn't feel sad. Without our personal possessions, the house just felt like an empty space, made up of wood, plaster and glass. It wasn't our home anymore. Like a body that dies, it no longer held the actual spirit and meaning that we loved and admire. Those things only continue in our own minds and memories.
It was 3:30 pm. So much for an early start. We had a hotel(motel, really...)reserved that night in Louisville, Ky so we had about a 6 hr drive ahead of us. Both of our next-door neighbors came out to wish us well. They were both very sweet and it was sort of awkward and wistful to say goodbye. I remember saying farewell to "Bear", the dog next door who was always buddies with our dog Abby. Just before we left, our neighbor took a picture of us. At this point we were literally locked out of the house we owned and lived in for eight years. The doors I stripped, sanded and refinished were now closed to me. We didn't live there anymore.
Pulling away was weird. Not as emotional as I expected, but sort of peculiar and queer.
Me: "That's the last time as a resident of this town that I'll drive by that tree, turn left at that stop sign, get on this freeway. You can never go back. I'm driving away from my house, with all of my possessions in a Penske diesel truck, my wife and critters following behind me...what the hell am I doing?"
Another voice: "Moving to Texas you over-analytical mama's boy. Now quit with the neurosis and start driving. They'll be time for whimsy later..."
We got to Louisville by about 10pm. Not too late. The hotel was dump, but the sheets were clean and we got free wifi so all was good. At this point, we were pretty hungry, so I went down to the lobby and asked the manager if there was any food close by. He informed me that there was a McDonalds, Taco bell and the Gas Station next door. Since I was tired, hungry and in no mood for foolishness, I figured I'd just go to the "Gas Station" and see what they had. Well, not so good. The typical snacks, sodas, beef jerkey, candy bars, cheap cigars and the "real-food" selections of taquitos, hotdogs and sausages rotating endlessly on a greasy conveyor belt-like affair, microwavable hamburgers, burritos, ham and cheese...basically garbage disguised as food.
Taco bell it was...at least it tastes good, even if all of the flavors are made in labs.
The next day we had a short 4-hour drive to Nashville, where we would be staying with my buddy Dave and his wife Kathy. Beat from the previous two days, we slept in a bit and hit the road around noon. They had just moved down there in June, so we were excited to see their new place, hang out and get a small taste of Nashville. On the way, we stopped at a gas station/Subway(the new evil duo), but instead of sitting in the restaurant, we just ordered to go, laid a big blanket out on the big patch of grass that was planted there for no reason what-so-ever and had a picnic. The animals were glad to get out of the car and it seemed that people thought we were sort of amusing. When we were done, my wife took this photo of me in all my faux trucker-fantasy glory:
We had a great time in Nashville, although it was a bummer saying goodbye to our friends again. After seeing them off a few months earlier, then saying farewell to everyone else before we moved, there was a slight feeling of loneliness hanging around me for the first few hours after we left. But the drive through Tennessee was really beautiful and the weather was decent, so before long my mood had made a nice rebound. Also, listening to an audio book of the last Harry Potter book helped to keep my mind in a suspended state of fantasy!
Before we left Cleveland, there was significant discussion pertaining to the coordination of driving separate for such a long distance. It was necessary for us to do this because of expense and logistics. So while our first choice would have been to get a POD and just drive together with the animals, it simply was not an option. So, caravan it was to be.
Now, too many things can turn sideways during a caravan, contributing to confusion, disagreement and safety issues. What happens if someone lags behind and takes the wrong exit? Needs to make a pit stop? Has a car problem? Also, when driving a large truck, an extra pair of eyes is always welcome, especially when changing or merging lanes. Here's where I must give credit where it's due. My father, always being the clever, sensible, responsible foreman, insisted that we had a quality pair of two-way radios(i.e. walkie-talkies). I responded "oh, that sounds like fun!", to which he responded "they're not for fun but for practical purposes". Well I must say, they were both fun and useful and I simply cannot imagine doing that trip without them. They constantly proved their worth to us for both practical, conversational and entertainment purposes. How else would I have heard my cat's distressful meows if my wife hadn't placed the mic in front of her panicked maw?
The drive from Nashville to Texarkana, TX was probably the dreariest of the whole trip. Not for lack of scenery. Quite the contrary as Tennessee and Arkansas are both interesting. Tennessee is hilly and rugged while Southern Arkansas flattens out but crosses the Mississippi River. This Delta region is very beautiful and serene. Being from Ohio, I'm certainly not a flatland hater as there is beauty in every kind of landscape. The problem with this leg of the drive was the condition of the road. Absolutely hideous. Arkansas is a fairly poor state and so I suppose it should come as no surprise that it's road conditions are in disrepair. It was bad enough for my wife, driving in a small wagon but for me, it was downright rugged. I was literally bouncing in my seat at times, maps, drinks, snacks, ipod all flying around the front seat. This of course, contributed to an ill state of affairs in terms of mood, quelling my sense of adventure(then again, not all adventure is fun...) and wreaking havoc on my lower back. Maybe being a trucker isn't that cool after all?
By the end of the day, we were both tired, cranky, hungry and in full "staring at the yellow lines" mode. We had a hotel reservation in Texarkana, TX, on the state line(home of Scott Joplin!) and once we found the place in the maze of hotels, fast food and various interstate detritus, settled down for a well needed overnight rest.
The last day from Texarkana to Austin was pretty uneventful, in a good way. We drove through Dallas for the first time and were surprised to find how interesting it looked. A modern, sleek, shining, collection of phallic monoliths rising out of the flat prairie. I have many pre-conceived notions about Dallas, but at some point I will try to set them aside and give it an honest look.
We got into Austin about 4:30pm, which was really cutting it close, since the office closed at 5pm and we needed to sign one more form and pick up our keys. But we made it, and the apartment seemed pretty close to what we expected: a 1980s sort of generic place with carpet(blah!), but with a huge walk-in closet, a nice layout and a great outdoor space. I might add that this was the first time that we actually saw our apartment in person. When we looked at the complex in July, all they could show us was a floor plan and something similar, so we were really hoping that our measurements were accurate and that we didn't haul a bunch of crap 1400 miles for nothing. So, after looking the place over, getting something to eat, letting the animals sniff about, we moved on to the next phase...
Moving In
Nowhere to go but up.
When we picked out this apartment, we knew that the move-in would be brutal. We would be on our own, it would be hot and we would have to carry everything up 39 steps to our 3rd-floor apartment. Since we arrived late on a Saturday, our plan was to peck away at the huge task ourselves, at our own pace and then hire two local movers to help with the large, heavy furniture on Monday morning. This worked pretty well, since we packed all of the really heavy stuff first and in the front of the truck, allowing us access to at least two-thirds of the contents. By the time the movers got there on Monday, we had a little over half of the truck unloaded and carried up to our place. Two fairly bulky dudes showed up and got right to business. I helped as well, carrying everything that I could take by myself. The weather was pretty darn hot(94degrees), so it was important to drink lots of fluids. The guys had a couple of gatorades each and we gave them water as well.
Everything was going as well as expected until the guys got to my beloved mid-century oak credenza.
I got this piece of furniture from my grandmother via my mother. She was the live-in housekeeper of some very wealthy folks back in Altoona, P.A. for twenty-some years, and when she retired, they gave her a bunch of great, old furniture. I have always admired this piece and when I was a kid, loved playing with the old keys and opening and closing the very well-crafted doors. When I bought a house, my mother asked me if I wanted it and I of course accepted! It was custom made for this rich guy's fine shirts and so has very shallow drawers. It's a great man's dresser.
Before we left Ohio, I made certain that I stored the keys in a "safe place" so as not to lose them. I also put the drawers back in for easier transport, as well as fifteen small oak shelves from my CD cabinet. Why not use the space? Of course, when the movers were ready to haul this sucker up three floors...I couldn't remember which box(safe place) I put the keys. So while the piece was heavy to begin with, it now had about 75lbs of unnecessary items inside of it, which made it a real man-killer. I felt really bad, and warned them to be careful. The guy in charge, confident with hubris said "well, let's just get after it..."
Famous last words.
They got about two-thirds of the way up when this guy came running up to the apartment and asked politely(but under great duress) if he could "use" our bathroom. Well, we all knew what was happening in there as the sounds of retching and coughing, slid under the door. "Better him than me", I thought. After a bit he came out, mortified, apologetic and a little pale and resumed the quest. They finally got the thing into the apartment and while it had a few scuffs, I didn't have the heart to bitch.
Epilogue
Well, we got everything in and spent the next month digging out, setting up and re-organizing. After several trips to the local IKEA for shelving and storage, we finally got everything in place. Coming from a house to an apartment is quite challenging as everything needs to fit or you feel like you're living in a Goodwill showroom. We no longer have the luxury(curse) of chucking things into the abyss that was our attic, basement or garage. I have to say, the smaller profile is very appealing at the moment. We know what and where everything we own is placed. We've even thinned out more since moving and have our apartment organized according to all the important Feng Shui principles and requirements, which is of course crucial.
So I guess we're back to the beginning. We are where we were. Our black-belt has turned white again. Lots to learn.
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Everything must go!
We had a yard sale last weekend in preparation for our impending move to Austin in September. A couple of observations:
1. It's a lot of work. Having a garage sale is easier physically as you can just close the doors at the end of the day and open them up for business the following day. Not so with a yard sale. Lots of lugging to and fro. There's still a few things sitting in the garage that I simply have not dealt with yet. I may just carry them out to the tree lawn on garbage day just to rid myself of their bothersome nature.
2. You will not get rich. We knew this beforehand, but it's amazing the discrepancy in value that we assign to our own things compared with how someone else sees them. For example: I sold my golf clubs. Now I'm a sh*tty golfer, and the clubs weren't anything special. I've never put the time into getting any good and in fact, have not been golfing for two years. Never-the-less, my dad likes golf and I have enjoyed many outings with him even though he always beat me. There have also been a lot of good times with friends, golf being the activity used as an excuse to get together, catch up, have a few beers and such. I sold the clubs, bag, and walking cart for $45. I didn't spend much on them to begin with but it was definitely more than $45! The guy who bought them was pretty excited as he thought his kid would use them so I'm glad they have a chance to be used.
3. Sundays are slow. Apparently, the best days for these type of things are Thursday, Friday and Saturday. My guess is that the "professionals" head out during the week to mine for potential merchandise (i.e. ebay, flea markets etc...) Never-the-less, we did manage to sell a bunch of stuff just as we were shutting down for the day. I think there must be some sort of buying tactic where buyers show up right before the end knowing that folks are desperate to get rid of stuff so they don't have to carry it back inside.
4. We don't need half of the stuff we have. It just seems terribly wasteful to buy stuff, use it once(maybe) than dump it off. Some people feel good surrounded by their detritus. It makes me feel claustrophobic. I feel liberated when the herd of junk gets thinned. Better in someone else's basement then mine.
5. It's a great way to meet your neighbors. I met several people who live down the street that I have never talked to before. When people were walking their dogs, they always stopped for brief conversation. Even the mailman hung out for a bit.
All told, I suppose I would do it again. We made a few hundred dollars for things we didn't want and got to hang out with some friends and neighbors in the process. As far as I'm concerned, time well spent.
1. It's a lot of work. Having a garage sale is easier physically as you can just close the doors at the end of the day and open them up for business the following day. Not so with a yard sale. Lots of lugging to and fro. There's still a few things sitting in the garage that I simply have not dealt with yet. I may just carry them out to the tree lawn on garbage day just to rid myself of their bothersome nature.
2. You will not get rich. We knew this beforehand, but it's amazing the discrepancy in value that we assign to our own things compared with how someone else sees them. For example: I sold my golf clubs. Now I'm a sh*tty golfer, and the clubs weren't anything special. I've never put the time into getting any good and in fact, have not been golfing for two years. Never-the-less, my dad likes golf and I have enjoyed many outings with him even though he always beat me. There have also been a lot of good times with friends, golf being the activity used as an excuse to get together, catch up, have a few beers and such. I sold the clubs, bag, and walking cart for $45. I didn't spend much on them to begin with but it was definitely more than $45! The guy who bought them was pretty excited as he thought his kid would use them so I'm glad they have a chance to be used.
3. Sundays are slow. Apparently, the best days for these type of things are Thursday, Friday and Saturday. My guess is that the "professionals" head out during the week to mine for potential merchandise (i.e. ebay, flea markets etc...) Never-the-less, we did manage to sell a bunch of stuff just as we were shutting down for the day. I think there must be some sort of buying tactic where buyers show up right before the end knowing that folks are desperate to get rid of stuff so they don't have to carry it back inside.
4. We don't need half of the stuff we have. It just seems terribly wasteful to buy stuff, use it once(maybe) than dump it off. Some people feel good surrounded by their detritus. It makes me feel claustrophobic. I feel liberated when the herd of junk gets thinned. Better in someone else's basement then mine.
5. It's a great way to meet your neighbors. I met several people who live down the street that I have never talked to before. When people were walking their dogs, they always stopped for brief conversation. Even the mailman hung out for a bit.
All told, I suppose I would do it again. We made a few hundred dollars for things we didn't want and got to hang out with some friends and neighbors in the process. As far as I'm concerned, time well spent.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
A cornicopia of transitions
To quote George Harrison:
It's been a long, long, long time...
I have much to say. Many developements. Stories. Changes.
Avoiding the pretence of falsifying each back-logged entry with a date, I will just create one long rapid-fire post with separate titles. The order will simply be which comes to mind first.
So Long Rust Belt, hello silver belt buckle
For those of you who don't know yet, this September my wife and I are moving to Austin, Texas(a small city quickly becoming a big city). After many long conversations, pro and cons lists and research, we decided that the change of scenery will do both of us a world of good. She will be taking a job with her current employer albeit with much better hours, and the mutlitude of music, film, art and culture will provide many more opportunities to which my skills should flourish. While it's very difficult to leave Cleveland and everything familiar(I feel like I'm leaving a family member to drown in a dirty pool), I think some time away will help me to appreciate the area more.
So with a positive attitude, an open mind, yankee sensibilities precariously perched on our shoulders and plenty of sunscreen, we will head to where the deep South meets the Southwest. To the land of border/culture wars, left vs right, old West vs new West. Where cowboy meets hippie meets yuppie meets artist...sounds like a great time!
The end of an era
I taught my last class at Lakeland College this past week. While it was only an adjunt position(part-time, no benefits, no real status), I taught there for 9 academic years. It was a significant time for me personally, since during this period I got married, bought a house, learned a ton more about my discipline, found out I was a good teacher, became a better musician and generally felt that the years spent grinding away in college and graduate school was time well spent. I met a lot of interesting people and learned as much from my students as I shared with them. The money wasn't too good but it was something I could count on never-the-less.
That being said, I think I've started to mail it in a bit lately. For those of you who teach or have taught, you know how much energy and focus is required to do a good job. It is a very unselfish activity and even part-time can be tiring. Doing the same thing over and over is also pretty dreary. I consistently revised and improved the class but the budget never allowed for significant equipment upgrades(I taught a music technology class so this was sort of crucial). Anyway, that combined with an internal urge to do something else contributed to what I think was a less than cohesive course. Definitely time to get away from it for a bit.
As if to re-affirm this hunch, yesterday as I was leaving the college for what was probably the last time, the clocktower struck the top of the hour and sent me off with 7 chimes.
Lucky? I sure hope so.
The black cat
Saturday started off very badly. I was awoken to my upset wife alerting me to the fact that there was a dead cat in the street right in front of our driveway. Making things even worse, the cat was wearing a collar with his name "Damian" on it along with a phone number...someone's pet.
Someone must have hit the cat earlier that morning as rigor mortis had set in. We couldn't leave the cat in the street and we didn't want to just throw it in the garbage(getting hit by a 2-ton moving vehicle is an unfair and undignified death enough for an animal). So we put it in a box in the garage and called the phone number on the tag.
No answer.
At this point, my wife had to go to work so we just decided that I would wait a bit and call again later. At about 10am I redialed. Again, no answer. At this point I was starting to get concerned about the state of this cats body in a box, in my garage, under a warming sun. Things might start to get, shall we say, edgy.
In a moment of genius, I called information and gave them the phone number in exchange for the name and address of the owner. Thank God their number was listed. As it turns out, the cat lived two houses away from us.
Now this house is significant because in the 8 years I have lived in this neighborhood, this address has always been a "problem" residence. The guy who owns it is an elderly slumlord who seems to rent to just about anyone. The place looks like hell. When I walked up the steps to knock on the door, I couldn't believe the state of disrepair this place is in: crumbling steps, ropes holding up the shrubs in the front yard, gaping holes in all of the screens, broken windows, garbage all over the porch - just a real unhappy looking place.
After ringing the doorbell, a girl of about 12 answered and I asked if her mother was home, which she was not. How about her father? To which she replied "Chris is here but he's sleeping. Must be a boyfriend. Anyway, at this point I thought it would be weird to just say "thank you, I'll come back later" (considering I had a decomposing cat in my garage), so I took a deep breath and asked her if she had a black cat named Damian? Her face immediately looked worried as she answered in the affirmative.
Damn. I've got to tell this little girl that her cat is dead. Damn. Sh*t. F*ck.
When I told her that my wife found the cat in the street and that we had him in a box, she got very upset and asked me to bring him home. When I brought the box to her and she looked inside my heart broke. She started sobbing, calling his name and petting him. She asked me if I thought he might still be alive. Just freakin' terrible stuff.
She ran inside and told "Chris" what was happening. I could tell by her answers that he didn't seem to know what she was talking about. "Damian...my cat!" I heard her say. I waited outside in case there was anything I could do. After about 5 minutes she came back out alone. She said that "this house usually wakes up around noon...you know, Friday nights", which struck me as cynically amusing, especially from an 11-12 year-old. I thought to myself "this kid's seen some sh*t and had to grow up quick. The slug called Chris never bothered to get his ass out of bed to help the girl with anything, come out to talk to me, thank me, tell me to f*ck off...nothing. So I sat there for a few minutes while she talked about her cat. I babbled some anecdotal b.s. about how losing pets is so difficult, gave her a hug and went home feeling horrible. I Gave my animals some love and went for coffee hoping the day would get better.
It's been a long, long, long time...
I have much to say. Many developements. Stories. Changes.
Avoiding the pretence of falsifying each back-logged entry with a date, I will just create one long rapid-fire post with separate titles. The order will simply be which comes to mind first.
So Long Rust Belt, hello silver belt buckle
For those of you who don't know yet, this September my wife and I are moving to Austin, Texas(a small city quickly becoming a big city). After many long conversations, pro and cons lists and research, we decided that the change of scenery will do both of us a world of good. She will be taking a job with her current employer albeit with much better hours, and the mutlitude of music, film, art and culture will provide many more opportunities to which my skills should flourish. While it's very difficult to leave Cleveland and everything familiar(I feel like I'm leaving a family member to drown in a dirty pool), I think some time away will help me to appreciate the area more.
So with a positive attitude, an open mind, yankee sensibilities precariously perched on our shoulders and plenty of sunscreen, we will head to where the deep South meets the Southwest. To the land of border/culture wars, left vs right, old West vs new West. Where cowboy meets hippie meets yuppie meets artist...sounds like a great time!
The end of an era
I taught my last class at Lakeland College this past week. While it was only an adjunt position(part-time, no benefits, no real status), I taught there for 9 academic years. It was a significant time for me personally, since during this period I got married, bought a house, learned a ton more about my discipline, found out I was a good teacher, became a better musician and generally felt that the years spent grinding away in college and graduate school was time well spent. I met a lot of interesting people and learned as much from my students as I shared with them. The money wasn't too good but it was something I could count on never-the-less.
That being said, I think I've started to mail it in a bit lately. For those of you who teach or have taught, you know how much energy and focus is required to do a good job. It is a very unselfish activity and even part-time can be tiring. Doing the same thing over and over is also pretty dreary. I consistently revised and improved the class but the budget never allowed for significant equipment upgrades(I taught a music technology class so this was sort of crucial). Anyway, that combined with an internal urge to do something else contributed to what I think was a less than cohesive course. Definitely time to get away from it for a bit.
As if to re-affirm this hunch, yesterday as I was leaving the college for what was probably the last time, the clocktower struck the top of the hour and sent me off with 7 chimes.
Lucky? I sure hope so.
The black cat
Saturday started off very badly. I was awoken to my upset wife alerting me to the fact that there was a dead cat in the street right in front of our driveway. Making things even worse, the cat was wearing a collar with his name "Damian" on it along with a phone number...someone's pet.
Someone must have hit the cat earlier that morning as rigor mortis had set in. We couldn't leave the cat in the street and we didn't want to just throw it in the garbage(getting hit by a 2-ton moving vehicle is an unfair and undignified death enough for an animal). So we put it in a box in the garage and called the phone number on the tag.
No answer.
At this point, my wife had to go to work so we just decided that I would wait a bit and call again later. At about 10am I redialed. Again, no answer. At this point I was starting to get concerned about the state of this cats body in a box, in my garage, under a warming sun. Things might start to get, shall we say, edgy.
In a moment of genius, I called information and gave them the phone number in exchange for the name and address of the owner. Thank God their number was listed. As it turns out, the cat lived two houses away from us.
Now this house is significant because in the 8 years I have lived in this neighborhood, this address has always been a "problem" residence. The guy who owns it is an elderly slumlord who seems to rent to just about anyone. The place looks like hell. When I walked up the steps to knock on the door, I couldn't believe the state of disrepair this place is in: crumbling steps, ropes holding up the shrubs in the front yard, gaping holes in all of the screens, broken windows, garbage all over the porch - just a real unhappy looking place.
After ringing the doorbell, a girl of about 12 answered and I asked if her mother was home, which she was not. How about her father? To which she replied "Chris is here but he's sleeping. Must be a boyfriend. Anyway, at this point I thought it would be weird to just say "thank you, I'll come back later" (considering I had a decomposing cat in my garage), so I took a deep breath and asked her if she had a black cat named Damian? Her face immediately looked worried as she answered in the affirmative.
Damn. I've got to tell this little girl that her cat is dead. Damn. Sh*t. F*ck.
When I told her that my wife found the cat in the street and that we had him in a box, she got very upset and asked me to bring him home. When I brought the box to her and she looked inside my heart broke. She started sobbing, calling his name and petting him. She asked me if I thought he might still be alive. Just freakin' terrible stuff.
She ran inside and told "Chris" what was happening. I could tell by her answers that he didn't seem to know what she was talking about. "Damian...my cat!" I heard her say. I waited outside in case there was anything I could do. After about 5 minutes she came back out alone. She said that "this house usually wakes up around noon...you know, Friday nights", which struck me as cynically amusing, especially from an 11-12 year-old. I thought to myself "this kid's seen some sh*t and had to grow up quick. The slug called Chris never bothered to get his ass out of bed to help the girl with anything, come out to talk to me, thank me, tell me to f*ck off...nothing. So I sat there for a few minutes while she talked about her cat. I babbled some anecdotal b.s. about how losing pets is so difficult, gave her a hug and went home feeling horrible. I Gave my animals some love and went for coffee hoping the day would get better.
Friday, March 23, 2007
Is that all you get for your money?
Home ownership is a sham.
For those of you that have wondered where and what I have been doing lately, trust me it isn't personal. I've been up to my *ss in home improvement projects for the downstairs unit of my duplex. As usual, these projects take me forever to complete. The reasons are as follows:
1.) I really don't know waht the hell I'm doing so I spend a lot of time reading, googling for info, driving back and forth to Home Depot...and just generally considering the situation.
2.) My house is old, which means that what appears to be a straight-forward, no-surprise, common project turns out to be the complete opposite. Strange/sloppy rig jobs from previous "handymen", walls that are not plumb/square, mixed materials and general disrepair have all conspired against me with every swing of my hammer.
3.) Fortitude. For the most part, I consider myself very well endowed with this characteristic. When I'm motivated, I can chop down a forest of difficulty in no time...and enjoy it. But I must say, I have been a little bit of a slacker with this situation. I've gotten discouraged more than usual (just yesterday as I was set to install a large section of 5/8" drywall and was dismayed to find that my fasteners were too short and another trip to Home Deephole would be required. My first impulse was to kick, flail, and throw in all directions. Instead, I just quietly put all of my tools away, took a shower and sat on the couch in front of the computer. Time lost.
Anyway, I would be lying if I said I didn't somewhat enjoy this task, but until I make significant progress it will continue to be just that...a task.
Here's a pic of the bathroom:
By the way, if I sound like a complainer on this blog, uh...yea I guess that's what it's fer.
For those of you that have wondered where and what I have been doing lately, trust me it isn't personal. I've been up to my *ss in home improvement projects for the downstairs unit of my duplex. As usual, these projects take me forever to complete. The reasons are as follows:
1.) I really don't know waht the hell I'm doing so I spend a lot of time reading, googling for info, driving back and forth to Home Depot...and just generally considering the situation.
2.) My house is old, which means that what appears to be a straight-forward, no-surprise, common project turns out to be the complete opposite. Strange/sloppy rig jobs from previous "handymen", walls that are not plumb/square, mixed materials and general disrepair have all conspired against me with every swing of my hammer.
3.) Fortitude. For the most part, I consider myself very well endowed with this characteristic. When I'm motivated, I can chop down a forest of difficulty in no time...and enjoy it. But I must say, I have been a little bit of a slacker with this situation. I've gotten discouraged more than usual (just yesterday as I was set to install a large section of 5/8" drywall and was dismayed to find that my fasteners were too short and another trip to Home Deephole would be required. My first impulse was to kick, flail, and throw in all directions. Instead, I just quietly put all of my tools away, took a shower and sat on the couch in front of the computer. Time lost.
Anyway, I would be lying if I said I didn't somewhat enjoy this task, but until I make significant progress it will continue to be just that...a task.
Here's a pic of the bathroom:
By the way, if I sound like a complainer on this blog, uh...yea I guess that's what it's fer.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
The Task at Hand
Well, for those of you from Northeast Ohio, you know what happened on Valentines Day. For those of you from other areas of this grand land...I woke up Wednesday to this:
The drifts in the driveway were up to my waist. Suffice to say, there was work to be done. My wife started at the apron (hardest part) and I at the garage. After about an hour and a half, we took a lunch break. When work resumed, we found that the city came by with their plows and walled us in, negating all of the work done on the apron. Thanks guys! Please raise our property taxes again so that we don't lose these fantastic city services.
Anyway, after about another 2 hours we finally finished.
All told, it was pretty fun and a great workout. It reminded me of the winters I remember from my childhood. I have heard many people mention the sense of community bond that is formed in such times. Having to dig your ass out of two feet of snow sort of transcends social/economic differences. It actually reminded me of the 2003 blackout, where everyone was out on their front porches with candles, enduring the hot sticky weather as a neighborhood. Very warm and fuzzy.
Now stop snowing. My back hurts.
As a follow up to this, the next day I came home in the afternoon to find my apron walled in again. This time with heavy, frozen slop up to my knees. Another 1/2 hour of shoveling. Thanks again city services (I know they have to clear the street but jeez...I'm glad I didn't have groceries).
The drifts in the driveway were up to my waist. Suffice to say, there was work to be done. My wife started at the apron (hardest part) and I at the garage. After about an hour and a half, we took a lunch break. When work resumed, we found that the city came by with their plows and walled us in, negating all of the work done on the apron. Thanks guys! Please raise our property taxes again so that we don't lose these fantastic city services.
Anyway, after about another 2 hours we finally finished.
All told, it was pretty fun and a great workout. It reminded me of the winters I remember from my childhood. I have heard many people mention the sense of community bond that is formed in such times. Having to dig your ass out of two feet of snow sort of transcends social/economic differences. It actually reminded me of the 2003 blackout, where everyone was out on their front porches with candles, enduring the hot sticky weather as a neighborhood. Very warm and fuzzy.
Now stop snowing. My back hurts.
As a follow up to this, the next day I came home in the afternoon to find my apron walled in again. This time with heavy, frozen slop up to my knees. Another 1/2 hour of shoveling. Thanks again city services (I know they have to clear the street but jeez...I'm glad I didn't have groceries).
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Please forgive the Academic
So the Mrs. and I went to see Iris Dement at the Beachland ballroom last Friday night. She's a great singer-songwriter with a really twangy country voice who writes a lot about her family and such. Very sentimental, bitter-sweet stuff. Anyway, the show was great but there are a few observations/complaints that I just need to mention.
In general, people who attend popular music concerts/shows are exquisitely annoying to me. When I say "popular music", I am referring to any music that is not classical, jazz and to a certain extant some "world" ethnic music. Now I realize that there is a lot of gray area here. There are all kinds of popular music genres that don't appeal to a large, paying public. I usually try to refrain from using a broad brush when talking about music/art because it can be unfair and misleading. There are always exceptions. However, for the sake of this essay, I will use these distinctions to try and make my point.
The problem as I see it, is in a huge disparity between the music and what an audience expects from a live performance/concert. Some folks just want to get hammered and cut loose. That's fine, as long as you don't ruin someone elses experience. In classical music, people are expected to sit quietly and listen to the music since much of what makes it successful are its more elaborate dynamic variations and formal structures (it may sound pretty or ugly on the surface, but underneath, there is usually a well-planned design-people who like classical music like to listen for that sort of thing). These two things; surface and form, appeal to both sides of our brain. In most rock/pop music, these things are present as well (albeit in shorter forms), but combined with higher static volumes, a casual atmosphere, and steadier rhythms, produce more of a physical reaction that is a little more explicit. Neither is better, just different. There is an accepted performance tradition in all kinds of music that is usually embraced by those who attend.
The problem for me arises when a type of music contains elements that are slightly different from the status quo of its generalized genre. I am of the opinion that the qualities of the music, not the genre, generally dictate how people act and/or react to music. For example, acoustic folk, singer-songwriter, ambient electronic music, and most quiet, introspective music suggests a much more subdued environment. Hip-hop makes people want to move about. This is usually obvious to anyone in attendance. However, there always seems to be those people who just seem completely oblivious to the "group sensibility". I'm not sure if this is just a lack of varied experiences or just a stubborn quality that they wish to impose on others.
Back to Iris Dement. Like most good singer-songwriters what distiguishes them most is:
a.)the sound of their voice and how personal and singular it seems
b.)the lyrical content and how personal and singular it seems
It is very much about storytelling. In other words, it sort of requires active listening. It really isn't a party atmosphere and is probably low on typical entertainment value.
Now I'm not sitting here saying people need to stoically sit and listen without having any sort of outward expression. Quite the contrary. Music can be an overwhelming emotional experience, and should not be restrained unless it infringes on someone elses ability to experience music the way they choose. But for God's sake, is it too much to ask for people to shut up while the performance is going on? Fussing, bustling and fidgeting around like children who have to piss? If you just relaxed and listened a bit, you might actually find out that there is more to the music than a pretty melody. If the words were not important, people would just hum.
And if you have a really huge head or big, burly, curly hair, could you please sit in the f*cking back? Jeez, I always end up behind that person.
I know this sounds a bit snobby but I'm not backin' down on this. I grew up playing in metal bands so I'm not clueless about different performance practices.
Damn. Just pay attention. A little.
In general, people who attend popular music concerts/shows are exquisitely annoying to me. When I say "popular music", I am referring to any music that is not classical, jazz and to a certain extant some "world" ethnic music. Now I realize that there is a lot of gray area here. There are all kinds of popular music genres that don't appeal to a large, paying public. I usually try to refrain from using a broad brush when talking about music/art because it can be unfair and misleading. There are always exceptions. However, for the sake of this essay, I will use these distinctions to try and make my point.
The problem as I see it, is in a huge disparity between the music and what an audience expects from a live performance/concert. Some folks just want to get hammered and cut loose. That's fine, as long as you don't ruin someone elses experience. In classical music, people are expected to sit quietly and listen to the music since much of what makes it successful are its more elaborate dynamic variations and formal structures (it may sound pretty or ugly on the surface, but underneath, there is usually a well-planned design-people who like classical music like to listen for that sort of thing). These two things; surface and form, appeal to both sides of our brain. In most rock/pop music, these things are present as well (albeit in shorter forms), but combined with higher static volumes, a casual atmosphere, and steadier rhythms, produce more of a physical reaction that is a little more explicit. Neither is better, just different. There is an accepted performance tradition in all kinds of music that is usually embraced by those who attend.
The problem for me arises when a type of music contains elements that are slightly different from the status quo of its generalized genre. I am of the opinion that the qualities of the music, not the genre, generally dictate how people act and/or react to music. For example, acoustic folk, singer-songwriter, ambient electronic music, and most quiet, introspective music suggests a much more subdued environment. Hip-hop makes people want to move about. This is usually obvious to anyone in attendance. However, there always seems to be those people who just seem completely oblivious to the "group sensibility". I'm not sure if this is just a lack of varied experiences or just a stubborn quality that they wish to impose on others.
Back to Iris Dement. Like most good singer-songwriters what distiguishes them most is:
a.)the sound of their voice and how personal and singular it seems
b.)the lyrical content and how personal and singular it seems
It is very much about storytelling. In other words, it sort of requires active listening. It really isn't a party atmosphere and is probably low on typical entertainment value.
Now I'm not sitting here saying people need to stoically sit and listen without having any sort of outward expression. Quite the contrary. Music can be an overwhelming emotional experience, and should not be restrained unless it infringes on someone elses ability to experience music the way they choose. But for God's sake, is it too much to ask for people to shut up while the performance is going on? Fussing, bustling and fidgeting around like children who have to piss? If you just relaxed and listened a bit, you might actually find out that there is more to the music than a pretty melody. If the words were not important, people would just hum.
And if you have a really huge head or big, burly, curly hair, could you please sit in the f*cking back? Jeez, I always end up behind that person.
I know this sounds a bit snobby but I'm not backin' down on this. I grew up playing in metal bands so I'm not clueless about different performance practices.
Damn. Just pay attention. A little.
Friday, January 12, 2007
It sure is windy up here
It's been a long, long time since I've posted. Longest space yet between posts. I just haven't felt like blogging. If anyone is still checking this place...sorry.
The Holidays have come and gone(again), leaving me feeling grouchy, bloated, depressed, fearful of new debt accruement and just plain tired.
I have an image that has always been with me concerning the time of year. Imagine a clock, with January being 12 o'clock. As the months pass, I move counter-clockwise around the year. In addition, January(12 o'clock) is the highest point of elevation while June is the lowest. So, according to my geography, I am standing at the toppermost of the toppermost after a most strenuous climb and am now looking forward to a nice long descent into the warm, fertile valley below. January has always been the great big "reset" button and hopefully this year will be better than the last.
The Holidays have come and gone(again), leaving me feeling grouchy, bloated, depressed, fearful of new debt accruement and just plain tired.
I have an image that has always been with me concerning the time of year. Imagine a clock, with January being 12 o'clock. As the months pass, I move counter-clockwise around the year. In addition, January(12 o'clock) is the highest point of elevation while June is the lowest. So, according to my geography, I am standing at the toppermost of the toppermost after a most strenuous climb and am now looking forward to a nice long descent into the warm, fertile valley below. January has always been the great big "reset" button and hopefully this year will be better than the last.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
The Good Ole' Days
Being an adult is such a hassle.
Bills, money, house repairs, others' expectations, work, relationship issues, personal goals un-fullfilled...Never-ending always-somethings. Here's a verse from my current favorite song. It is called "Telling Stories" by Greg Brown:
Yesterday I was a boy running through the woods
My dog was my buddy, the wind was green and yellow
My dad called me to gather cedar branches
And soon we were sitting around the fire telling stories
Ah, the simple times. Tadpoles have it made. Once you lose that tail, all bets are off.
Blah, blah, bitch, bitch....
Bills, money, house repairs, others' expectations, work, relationship issues, personal goals un-fullfilled...Never-ending always-somethings. Here's a verse from my current favorite song. It is called "Telling Stories" by Greg Brown:
Yesterday I was a boy running through the woods
My dog was my buddy, the wind was green and yellow
My dad called me to gather cedar branches
And soon we were sitting around the fire telling stories
Ah, the simple times. Tadpoles have it made. Once you lose that tail, all bets are off.
Blah, blah, bitch, bitch....
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Glad to be here
20 years ago (Oct.12th) I earned a two-week vacation at this lovely hospital in the beautiful rural college town of Bowling Green, Ohio. Of all the auto accidents I've been in, this was by far the worst. My spleen met his match, as did my appendix, portions of my intestines and one of my ribs towards my back. In addition to my own injuries, my sister (2 years younger) sustained a compound fracture to her left femur that required the insertion of an 18" pin from her hip down through the femur bone. This was to remain for one year. She also had several lacerations above her eye.
My first 7 days after surgery were filled with the fog of morphine, several catheters(I pray that no one I know ever has to get one of these inserted while awake, I.Vs in both wrists, a couple of blood transfusions and a spectacular tube that travelled from my stomach, up my gullet, out of my nose and into a blender looking pump whose purpose in life was to suck the acid and bile from my stomach at regular intervals. This became incredibly uncomfortable after 6-7 days when my nose and throat became raw from the contact. Why would I need this? Due to my intestinal injuries, I could not eat for a whole week (ice chips only)...even so, the stomach continues to produce its toxic mix of lava, which by the way, looks like split-pea soup. If this is not removed, you will puke every hour or so. Not particularly pleasant when you've just been gutted like a deer. I have a 12 inch scar from my sternum to below my belly-button to prove it...not to mention a bunch of scar tissue that bothers me occaisionally...I also need to get a vaccine every five years to protect me from a certain pneumonia that would usually be defeated by the spleen.
It was a very scary experience for me, my sister and of course my folks, who had to helplessly sit and watch their two kids go through hell.
I had never been back there. I just sort of moved on with my life. But as the 20th anniversary approached, I started thinking that I might like to visit the place. My intention was to head over there on the actual day but a nasty case of bronchitis prevented me from going. So I rescheduled and went there last Tuesday:a dreary, grim, windy and rainy fall day.
When I first got to town, I was really second-guessing myself. It seemed like a morose, maudlin, unecessary waste of time, money and gas. Wasn't it enough to just think back on the moment and move on? But when I drove past the hospital, it really seemed like yesterday when I was getting(slowly) into my Uncle Gary's Lincoln Towne car(it was easier than climbing into my Dad's pick-up truck and well, my mother's car was mangled to holy hell, sitting in a junkyard contemplating its next life as a...toaster?...set of steak knives?...sink?). Incidentally, I was listening to NPRs Terry Gross interviewing the late Freddie Fender..."I'll be there, before the next...teardrop falls". I'm pretty sure that now I will always think of Wood County Hospital every time I hear that song. Go Pavlov!
The next stop was the actual spot of the accident. This occurred at the intersection of Rt.6 and Bowling Green Rd. I had to cross traffic from Bowling Green Rd. left onto Rt. 6. Traffic on this road travels from about 55 mph to 75mph. Here's a pic:
I seem to remember looking left, looking right and then going...forgot to look left again. This was probably due to the fact that I was either:
a.)eating fast food
b.)telling a story
c.)fixing my hair in the mirror
d.)cueing up a kick-ass guitar solo by Matthias Jabs of the Scorpions on my tape player
e.)all of the above
We were very lucky that we didn't get hit by a semi-that would have done us all in...instead, the card we drew was a little Chevy Chevette going around 60mph. I was ticketed for failure to yield by a cop in the emergency room, while lying in a fetal position in excrutiating pain, puking blood, and getting all of my clothes cut away from my body in front of about a dozen people. As I had only just started college, I did know my social security number by heart when the cop asked me for it...
When I got to the spot, I pulled over so I could get a good look. I got out of the car and walked around a bit and took a few pics. Some of the area had been clear-cut and was now being farmed but other than that, it was exactly the way I remembered. At this point, I was really glad to have made the trip. It was a very odd sensation. A little bit of fear, nostalgia, and gratitude all mixed together. This was a place where I came really close to dying. I have often thought about that day and how in that moment of violence, I neither felt nor remembered anything. It always seemed like a comforting thought that in that brief instance of death (or near death) that there is no pain or suffering. As I got back in my car, I started thinking about all of the things I have done and seen since, the people I've met, the music I've made, the things I've learned, the hair I've lost; I couldn't help feeling like the luckiest person in the world.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Is this really possible?
There seems to be a lesson here.
The Amish folk are reaching out to the family of the guy who killed those girls. This is something rarely, if ever seen in modern community culture. While many of us claim to be Christians, most of us balance our grief with anger, blame and an overwhelming need to retaliate. Often, these events are followed by lawsuits against the surviving family members. A flawed sense of justice to be sure.
I cannot imagine the kind of grief those parents are dealing with, not to mention the burden of guilt, shame and sorrow that the killers' family must shoulder. The fact that these people immediately reached out to this family - before their dead were buried - is really heartening. It almost gives me faith in people. I'm not sure if I could do the same.
Check out the story.
The Amish folk are reaching out to the family of the guy who killed those girls. This is something rarely, if ever seen in modern community culture. While many of us claim to be Christians, most of us balance our grief with anger, blame and an overwhelming need to retaliate. Often, these events are followed by lawsuits against the surviving family members. A flawed sense of justice to be sure.
I cannot imagine the kind of grief those parents are dealing with, not to mention the burden of guilt, shame and sorrow that the killers' family must shoulder. The fact that these people immediately reached out to this family - before their dead were buried - is really heartening. It almost gives me faith in people. I'm not sure if I could do the same.
Check out the story.
Monday, October 02, 2006
Diminishing skills?
Just spent a really nice weekend in Dolly Sods Wilderness (West Virginia) backpacking/hiking/camping with the wife and hound. As far as Eastern landscape goes, this is a very special place topographically speaking. There are vast expanses of beautiful alpine-like meadows, mixed with precarious cliffs, beautiful streams, and large dense stands of hardwood and pine forests-reminiscent of areas much farther north. I have done a lot of outdoors exploring out west, and in some places the only thing missing is 14,000 craggy peaks looming in the background. But the openness...is very Western indeed. I'm a sucker for wide, spacious views. It reinforces my insignificance in the universe which is somewhat calming to me.
Anyway, a few thoughts.
I'm getting sloppy. I have always prided myself in my organization and attention to details. I'm a really good trip planner. Making lists, checking them twice, always thinking 'round corners. In other words, a control freak. While this trait has served me well at times, I sometimes think that it has made me into an uptight Piglet - type(See Pooh-Piglet Psychometric Profiler test).
Here's the thing though. The more I travel, the less I plan. I've sort of gotten over-confident in my ability to throw a trip together in a day. Plus, I'm a pretty skilled improvisor (my wife calls me "camping genius" for my ability to scheme my way through a tricky situation). When travelling to cities, this really isn't a big deal. If you forget something, you can always go buy it at some store. This can be expensive but not usually life threatening...unless you forget your $$$.
Because I think shame and embarassment are sometimes useful educational tools, I have compiled a list of items and tasks that I either forgot or just chose to ignore for reasons I have not yet identified.
1.)Matches/lighter.
This is fairly essential when camping in any season, let alone autumn, when temperatures go down to the low 40s or upper 30s. I always have a container of waterproof matches in my pack but these are hard to use and should really be saved for emergency situations. When I was going through my pre-trip checklist, I remember making a mental note to grab some on the way. Suffice to say, this "mental note" evaporated as quickly as it surfaced. I was about 100 feet onto the trail when I realized that I never tied up this loose end. The idea of using all of my waterproof matches to light the stove, start a much wanted campfire and still have some left over seemed like a very sketchy proposition, especially considering that I would need to strike them against some "found" surface. If you've ever tried this, you know that half of them break, fall apart, or just don't light. I like to gamble but not when it comes to warm food and campfires.
So what did I do? I walked the 100 feet back to the car to search for that phantom book of matches from under the car seat or in the glove box, that I knew weren't there. After finally giving up I was reduced to the most humiliating scenario of all...I had to ask someone for help. There was a group of folks getting ready to walk over to one of the very accessible lookout points just off the access road. One of them kindly gave me a lighter and assured me that she didn't need it. Humiliated and relieved at the same time, I sheepishly walked back to my pack, who were faithfully (foolishly!) waiting for me on the trail.
Strike one.
2.) Camera battery
This was not life threatening, but infuriating. I was really looking forward to taking some photos on this trip. Selfish, indulgent photos of all of the different flora blooming and dying at the same time. A multitude of textures:grasses, ferns, azaleas, old flowers, shrubs, trees - orange,red, green, brown, yellow and everything in between. Much wanted pictures of my dog getting to do the things that nature enabled her to do. Documents of our cozy, protected little camp nestled under a canopy of pines a short distance from a quiet, clear stream. The panoramic views, the undecisive weather, the bear scat filled with recently devoured blueberries, the pine trees windswept on one side only...
The problem with digital cameras is the damn battery. If it runs out of charge? No camera. No pictures. No documents. I meant to charge the battery the night before, which we spent in a Days Inn, Elkins W.V. Again, this minor detail slipped my slippery mind. I realized this gaffe when I pulled out the camera to take a picture of my wife (yes we carried the damn useless thing along for nothing)and the camera blandly instructed me to "change the battery". The first thing I thought was "yea, I'll change you alright...along side this here oak tree"...but I didn't. Just calmly put the thing back into (my wifes) pack.
Strike 2.
3.)Watch
Well, at this point I was really beating myself up. I don't usually wear a wristwatch(itchy and pulls my arm hairs), but I do have one that I use for working out/hiking etc...I also have a great fob type watch that attaches to any sort of loop (like a beltloop). Both of these were resting cozily at home on top of my dresser probably thinking what cosmic glitch in the assembly line landed them in the home of such an ignoramus.
I did bring my cell phone. Not because I wanted to chat with friends or check voicemail, but as an emergency backup. Incidentally, this has always been a conflict for me...I feel part of the excitement of staying outdoors is the risk factor. Cell phones sort of undermine that philosophy.
One small problem. No service. No service means no clock, which means a worthless conglomerate of cheap foreign parts that would travel at least 50-75 yards if I really wound up...
Actually, when we were on top of the highest ridge, I did get clear service. I refrained from checking voicemails but did sneak a look at the time. My internal clock was suprising accurate.
Foul ball. Still alive.
Boneheadedness aside, this trip was really great. The weather was drizzly and cold at night and early morning but seemed to always clear up when we were hiking. And none of my sillyness hurt us in any way. In fact, I may start camping without a watch from now on. After all, the only thing that's really important is having a general idea of the time. I don't have appointments to keep and I can always use the sun and my compass...hell, the Indians didn't have watches and they did just fine. And as much as I love taking pictures, sometimes it's a hassle messing around with the damn thing when you're in the midst of taking an ass-kicking from a mountain. Truth be told, with the exception of a few good takes, no picture can ever take the place of a clear memory, complete with sounds, smells and 3-dimensional space.
Then again, this could just be me trying to justify my exquisite failures.
***UPDATE***
I just charged the battery and I see that I did get one picture after all...the camera died promptly after.
Anyway, a few thoughts.
I'm getting sloppy. I have always prided myself in my organization and attention to details. I'm a really good trip planner. Making lists, checking them twice, always thinking 'round corners. In other words, a control freak. While this trait has served me well at times, I sometimes think that it has made me into an uptight Piglet - type(See Pooh-Piglet Psychometric Profiler test).
Here's the thing though. The more I travel, the less I plan. I've sort of gotten over-confident in my ability to throw a trip together in a day. Plus, I'm a pretty skilled improvisor (my wife calls me "camping genius" for my ability to scheme my way through a tricky situation). When travelling to cities, this really isn't a big deal. If you forget something, you can always go buy it at some store. This can be expensive but not usually life threatening...unless you forget your $$$.
Because I think shame and embarassment are sometimes useful educational tools, I have compiled a list of items and tasks that I either forgot or just chose to ignore for reasons I have not yet identified.
1.)Matches/lighter.
This is fairly essential when camping in any season, let alone autumn, when temperatures go down to the low 40s or upper 30s. I always have a container of waterproof matches in my pack but these are hard to use and should really be saved for emergency situations. When I was going through my pre-trip checklist, I remember making a mental note to grab some on the way. Suffice to say, this "mental note" evaporated as quickly as it surfaced. I was about 100 feet onto the trail when I realized that I never tied up this loose end. The idea of using all of my waterproof matches to light the stove, start a much wanted campfire and still have some left over seemed like a very sketchy proposition, especially considering that I would need to strike them against some "found" surface. If you've ever tried this, you know that half of them break, fall apart, or just don't light. I like to gamble but not when it comes to warm food and campfires.
So what did I do? I walked the 100 feet back to the car to search for that phantom book of matches from under the car seat or in the glove box, that I knew weren't there. After finally giving up I was reduced to the most humiliating scenario of all...I had to ask someone for help. There was a group of folks getting ready to walk over to one of the very accessible lookout points just off the access road. One of them kindly gave me a lighter and assured me that she didn't need it. Humiliated and relieved at the same time, I sheepishly walked back to my pack, who were faithfully (foolishly!) waiting for me on the trail.
Strike one.
2.) Camera battery
This was not life threatening, but infuriating. I was really looking forward to taking some photos on this trip. Selfish, indulgent photos of all of the different flora blooming and dying at the same time. A multitude of textures:grasses, ferns, azaleas, old flowers, shrubs, trees - orange,red, green, brown, yellow and everything in between. Much wanted pictures of my dog getting to do the things that nature enabled her to do. Documents of our cozy, protected little camp nestled under a canopy of pines a short distance from a quiet, clear stream. The panoramic views, the undecisive weather, the bear scat filled with recently devoured blueberries, the pine trees windswept on one side only...
The problem with digital cameras is the damn battery. If it runs out of charge? No camera. No pictures. No documents. I meant to charge the battery the night before, which we spent in a Days Inn, Elkins W.V. Again, this minor detail slipped my slippery mind. I realized this gaffe when I pulled out the camera to take a picture of my wife (yes we carried the damn useless thing along for nothing)and the camera blandly instructed me to "change the battery". The first thing I thought was "yea, I'll change you alright...along side this here oak tree"...but I didn't. Just calmly put the thing back into (my wifes) pack.
Strike 2.
3.)Watch
Well, at this point I was really beating myself up. I don't usually wear a wristwatch(itchy and pulls my arm hairs), but I do have one that I use for working out/hiking etc...I also have a great fob type watch that attaches to any sort of loop (like a beltloop). Both of these were resting cozily at home on top of my dresser probably thinking what cosmic glitch in the assembly line landed them in the home of such an ignoramus.
I did bring my cell phone. Not because I wanted to chat with friends or check voicemail, but as an emergency backup. Incidentally, this has always been a conflict for me...I feel part of the excitement of staying outdoors is the risk factor. Cell phones sort of undermine that philosophy.
One small problem. No service. No service means no clock, which means a worthless conglomerate of cheap foreign parts that would travel at least 50-75 yards if I really wound up...
Actually, when we were on top of the highest ridge, I did get clear service. I refrained from checking voicemails but did sneak a look at the time. My internal clock was suprising accurate.
Foul ball. Still alive.
Boneheadedness aside, this trip was really great. The weather was drizzly and cold at night and early morning but seemed to always clear up when we were hiking. And none of my sillyness hurt us in any way. In fact, I may start camping without a watch from now on. After all, the only thing that's really important is having a general idea of the time. I don't have appointments to keep and I can always use the sun and my compass...hell, the Indians didn't have watches and they did just fine. And as much as I love taking pictures, sometimes it's a hassle messing around with the damn thing when you're in the midst of taking an ass-kicking from a mountain. Truth be told, with the exception of a few good takes, no picture can ever take the place of a clear memory, complete with sounds, smells and 3-dimensional space.
Then again, this could just be me trying to justify my exquisite failures.
***UPDATE***
I just charged the battery and I see that I did get one picture after all...the camera died promptly after.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
In Perspective?
Woe is me(and my wife).
I really shouldn't say that, because there are people in this world with real problems; famine, disease, poverty, bombs blowing up their social infrastructure, hemorrhoids etc...
Just indulge me this moment of self pity.
Woke up this moring to a smashed-in driver's side window of a Dodge Neon that my mother-in-law kindly lent us while our previously damaged car is getting fixed. To say the least, I am in a most foul mood - not the kind of mood that keeps me in a dark, T.V. lit room with empty pizza boxes, the uneaten crusts hard enough to cut glass, the complete Boulez catalogue looping over and over on my audio system - but the kind of mood that makes me volatile. Where just a casual sideways glance from a passerby might send me into a verbally violent tirade, capable of making the hardiest, insensitive factory worker fall to his knees and weep for redemption.
I must admit, it crossed my mind that this was an act of retaliation. But since I have no proof, I must assume that this was an act of random vandalism.
As a follow up to last week's auto accident, the young woman who caused the incident is now claiming that it wasn't her fault. Of course this is after she begged me not to file a police report(having no insurance and a suspended license), offered to pay for my damages on the spot with money earned by doing GOD KNOWS WHAT, openly admitted(as did both of her friends) that she was at fault, and threatened to thrust herself onto the freeway and commit suicide.
Apparently this young woman lost her previous car in the slew of flooding that took place out in Lake County a few weeks back. She then bought this other car and immediately cancelled the insurance policy after driving it off of the lot (why she did this, I can only speculate). Her "new" car has been deemed totaled, so suffice to say, she is in a very bad place - owing money on a car that's inoperable and probably facing some jail time for driving without insurance while under suspension - a very desparate situation indeed. As a fellow human being, I really do empathize with her situation. But that situation is the result of HER choices, not mine. Meanwhile, I will have no car for the forseeable future, and if and when it does get repaired, will probably be seriously flawed. We'll have to pay a deductible and our rates will go up. All because of someone else's irresponsibility.
Blah, blah, blah.
So I was thinking back on the past month. I have compiled a list of events that seem to suggest that my number in the cosmic bingo machine has come up:
1. I get surrounded by police 3 weeks ago while riding my bike in the pouring rain. I'm asked for identification, upon which one of the cops said to another, "no beard"...meaning: he's not the guy. Mistaken identity.
2. Our basement backs up with 3" of raw sewage, ruining 2 rugs, stinking up the joint and providing me with a weekends' worth of work bleaching and mopping fecal and urine debris.
3. The PC laptop that we use to do most of the mundane chores (my essay-grading job included) completely wigs out. It takes me two weeks to assess the situation, order the adapter that will allow me to port all of the important info to another computer, and get the whole thing up and running again. Cost(parts and lost wages)$200.
4. Irresponsible girl runs red light, which causes front-end damage and much ass-pain. Cost: yet to be determined.
5. Some cretin smashes my mother-in-law's window in while the car is on our watch. Cost:$165.00
Things are supposed to happen in 3s. Not 5s. I didn't even include getting pulled over for speeding, for which I unashamedly handed over my out-dated "courtesy" card, provided to me by my friend. Amount saved:$120.00. I'm viewing this as a break. Lucky me.
While my tendency is to view these series of events as a "doleful cloud" stubbornly following my every move, I was reminded by a friend that every one of these situations could have been worse. This is true. No one was hurt and most of the damage is purely financial. Money can be replaced. Not easily, but replaced never-the-less.
But I'm still gonna knock on mother-f*cking wood.
I really shouldn't say that, because there are people in this world with real problems; famine, disease, poverty, bombs blowing up their social infrastructure, hemorrhoids etc...
Just indulge me this moment of self pity.
Woke up this moring to a smashed-in driver's side window of a Dodge Neon that my mother-in-law kindly lent us while our previously damaged car is getting fixed. To say the least, I am in a most foul mood - not the kind of mood that keeps me in a dark, T.V. lit room with empty pizza boxes, the uneaten crusts hard enough to cut glass, the complete Boulez catalogue looping over and over on my audio system - but the kind of mood that makes me volatile. Where just a casual sideways glance from a passerby might send me into a verbally violent tirade, capable of making the hardiest, insensitive factory worker fall to his knees and weep for redemption.
I must admit, it crossed my mind that this was an act of retaliation. But since I have no proof, I must assume that this was an act of random vandalism.
As a follow up to last week's auto accident, the young woman who caused the incident is now claiming that it wasn't her fault. Of course this is after she begged me not to file a police report(having no insurance and a suspended license), offered to pay for my damages on the spot with money earned by doing GOD KNOWS WHAT, openly admitted(as did both of her friends) that she was at fault, and threatened to thrust herself onto the freeway and commit suicide.
Apparently this young woman lost her previous car in the slew of flooding that took place out in Lake County a few weeks back. She then bought this other car and immediately cancelled the insurance policy after driving it off of the lot (why she did this, I can only speculate). Her "new" car has been deemed totaled, so suffice to say, she is in a very bad place - owing money on a car that's inoperable and probably facing some jail time for driving without insurance while under suspension - a very desparate situation indeed. As a fellow human being, I really do empathize with her situation. But that situation is the result of HER choices, not mine. Meanwhile, I will have no car for the forseeable future, and if and when it does get repaired, will probably be seriously flawed. We'll have to pay a deductible and our rates will go up. All because of someone else's irresponsibility.
Blah, blah, blah.
So I was thinking back on the past month. I have compiled a list of events that seem to suggest that my number in the cosmic bingo machine has come up:
1. I get surrounded by police 3 weeks ago while riding my bike in the pouring rain. I'm asked for identification, upon which one of the cops said to another, "no beard"...meaning: he's not the guy. Mistaken identity.
2. Our basement backs up with 3" of raw sewage, ruining 2 rugs, stinking up the joint and providing me with a weekends' worth of work bleaching and mopping fecal and urine debris.
3. The PC laptop that we use to do most of the mundane chores (my essay-grading job included) completely wigs out. It takes me two weeks to assess the situation, order the adapter that will allow me to port all of the important info to another computer, and get the whole thing up and running again. Cost(parts and lost wages)$200.
4. Irresponsible girl runs red light, which causes front-end damage and much ass-pain. Cost: yet to be determined.
5. Some cretin smashes my mother-in-law's window in while the car is on our watch. Cost:$165.00
Things are supposed to happen in 3s. Not 5s. I didn't even include getting pulled over for speeding, for which I unashamedly handed over my out-dated "courtesy" card, provided to me by my friend. Amount saved:$120.00. I'm viewing this as a break. Lucky me.
While my tendency is to view these series of events as a "doleful cloud" stubbornly following my every move, I was reminded by a friend that every one of these situations could have been worse. This is true. No one was hurt and most of the damage is purely financial. Money can be replaced. Not easily, but replaced never-the-less.
But I'm still gonna knock on mother-f*cking wood.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Fool Moon
Another auto accident.
This has become such a prominent theme throughout my driving life, that it almost warrants rigorous scientific study. It's become a sort of routine with me, that I would miss if discontinued.
Here's the scene:
I'm coming home late from a visit with an out-of-town friend. It's about 3am, a pleasant, cool and quiet summer evening. The kind of night that you think about in the middle of winter. I'm sort of hungry. Not ravenous, but hungry enough to have a roving eye for some late night, improper dietary choice that will most assuredly leave me feeling thick, acidic and disappointed by my lack of self-discipline. But nevertheless, there I was looking for that magical place between fast food and a sit-down diner (I'm thinking all-night gas station/mini-mart). This is important because it altered my usual route home, which would normally have been the empty freeway.
So, I'm cruising along on one of those roads that parallel the freeway, eventually morphing into an entrance ramp. As usual, this road is named "Marginal" for its relationship to the much more prominent highway. On the radio is "Coast to Coast", where there is an interesting discussion about how full moons affect human behavior (last night was a full moon, in case you didn't know).
I'm not kidding about this.
As I passed through the green-light intersection of W. 100th and N. Marginal, a green sedan suddenly appeared in front of my car. Unlike other right angle accidents that I have been involved in, I was denied a sufficient glance at the driver's face in the moment just before impact. This is a splendid moment; the expression of fear competing with surprise is both horrifying and comical. Had I been able to see my own face, it would have had an expression that said:
Oh man, not again. What have I done to deserve this kind of misfortune? Did I mistreat someone with supernatural powers? Do I really have any control over my life? How much will this cost me? Will it hurt? I'm really glad my beloved dog is not in the car, only to become a 45lb projectile. Is there a child in that other car? Is there some greater cosmic cause for which I am but a spoke in the wheel?
Anyway, I tried to stop but it was futile and so I braced for impact.
PAAK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
My car stalled, smack dab in the middle of the intersection, the lights and radio proceeding on with their previously assigned duties. The other car stopped and turned around, resting to an uncomfortable stop with the rear driver-side wheel up on the curb. The first thing I did was try to move my arms and legs to see if there was any damage. Satisfied with my findings, I tried to get out of the car but...oops, that door doesn't work anymore. Front-end damage compression. At this point three young ladies get out of the other car, frantic, one of them asking if I'm OK and another asking if I'm going to shoot them. I assured them that I was OK and didn't have a gun.
Once I finally got out of the car, the girls were upon me, the driver frantically begging me not to call the police because she didn't have insurance, and was driving with a suspended license and would surely go to jail. They were strippers the one assured me, and could pay me on the spot for any damage to my car.
Thank Gawd!
Now I don't want to seem mean and misogynistic, but over the years I've made my way to a few strip bars. By the looks of these gals, I VERY MUCH DOUBT that they had enough money on them collectively to pay for the work my car is going to need. My guess is that they worked in one of those small local beer joints that also have dancin' girls, mostly frequented by working class folks and the occasional suburban college kid who feels a lack of authenticity and is into slummin'.
I know this, cuz that was me 15 years ago...
Anyway, I immediately took charge of the situation and said, "I'm really sorry but I've been through this several times before, and it's really best to make the 911 call"-of the many good reasons to do this, getting stuck with false information was foremost on my mind. This of course sent this young woman into "dramatic arrest" loudly proclaiming that she was going to walk up to the freeway and kill herself.
Awe Jesus.
Regardless, I made the call. There was some confusion on the dispatcher's part as to my exact location. There was no W.100th and N. Marginal on her map. I assured her that it really did exist and that I was literally standing under the mother-f*cking sign.
While I was making this call (and a few back and forths with my wife), one of the girls (cute, but in that trashy sort of way that suggests a bountiful history of drinking, smoking, too much T.V., lazy upbringing and a general dysfunctional environment) kept coming up to me, trying to sweet talk me and get me to change my mind. At one point she actually asked me what my sign was. I gather that this girl is used to getting her way with boys, acting friendly, helpless and harmless in order to manipulate weak, attention-starved men. This kind of behavior has always had a completely opposite effect on me. Almost violently. I could feel my blood start to boil. The cops still had not shown up, I'm standing in the middle of a g*ddamn intersection with my car emitting a very strong acrid odor, the driver won't shut up about her desperate situation, and this annoying little girl is asking me all kinds of stupid banal questions. I really thought I might start making bad choices.
Thank God, my wife kept calling to check up on me. This calmed me down and focused my attention on the task at hand, which was getting the cops to show up. Apparently, this was an "uncommonly busy Wednesday evening".
When they did get there (about 45 minutes later), they were very cool and handled the situation in a very professional manner. Considering this was Cleveland, they probably viewed this as a "break in the action". After I gave them all of the important information, they said if my car was operable, I could go. While the car started and was reasonably functional, there was definitely something "critically erroneous" going on under the hood. I'll be interested to find out what sort of internal damage was done. If you've ever had a car with front-end collision damage, you know that they are never the same again. Things get move a few centimeters out of alignment and it becomes a domino effect.
Thankfully, nobody was seriously injured. That would have been a very bad scene indeed. There were no kids or loose pets in the car. Just three silly young girls who might learn something from this...but probably not.
Morale of the story:
Don't make bad dietary decisions when there is a full moon.
p.s. I never did get anything to eat...went to bed hungry and pissed.
Monday, July 24, 2006
From here to there
I've been experimenting with a new personal policy this summer. When doing business in Lakewood (i.e., getting take-out, going to the gym, going to coffehouses/bars, the bank etc...), I will either walk, ride my bike, or take a bus. Mostly I've been riding my bike as it offers the best combination of speed, convenience and cost. It is truly the last means of transportation that's on the human scale before we submit our asses, feet and vertebrae to an unfair amount of inactivity and compression.
Of course there are times when I still use the Car, but I'm really trying hard to stick to this.
Let me make this clear: This is not a ploy for self-aggrandizement(maybe just a little), nor is it meant as a subvertive way of preaching to others how they should live their lives. It is simply something I am doing for myself, for the following reasons:
1. It's great exercise. In addition to working out, I can burn several hundred extra calories per week just doing things I would do anyway.
2. It saves money on gasoline. This one is obvious. While I'm not driving hundreds of miles a week around Lakewood, it really does add up. And it just seems so damn lazy to sit on my ass in my car just to go down the street and get a movie or a beer.
3. It's clean. I don't create any emmissions, wear down the surface of the street, which always seems to need repairing. Riding a bike and walking has a very small footprint. Unless you're one of those piggish inbreeds who insist on throwing their garbage all over the sidewalk/street(this is another blog entirely).
4. There is something incredibly satisfying about earning your way. Even though I sometimes feel a little sweaty by the time I get to where I'm going, it doesn't take long to dry and I feel like I've earned my latte.
5. You see and experience WAY more. In a densely layered community like Lakewood, you really don't see much when you're driving through at 35mph(which is way too mother-f*cking fast down the side streets!!!!!!!). When you drive, it's all about getting from one point to another. Your eyes are focused on waypoints that are much farther apart. When walking or riding, I can ride down the same street every day and notice something different. Since I like looking at houses and shops, this is very appealing to me. In fact, slowing people down is crucial in areas like this because the small scale of the shops require foot traffic(or bike) which creates an intimate public space. Lakewood's streets should be about getting people in and around Lakewood instead of getting them through.
Of course every mountain has its valley.
Cars are generally oblivious to bikes on the street. I prefer riding in the street to the sidewalks(the word "walk" here should be a clue). Pedestrians, pets etc... are much safer without bicycles flying past them. But I have had a few close calls. Usually it's a matter of drivers just not seeing me, but sometimes people get impatient and will just blow past you. The key here is to follow traffic rules. Without fail. Looking out for yourself is the best defense. Of course a bike lane with a clear physical divider would solve most of these issues. But it seems that Lakewood is more content with installing pretty flower pots along its major business district. Awesome.
The roads in Lakewood are terrible. You actually need a mountain bike so that you don't bend your rims or blow out a tire. I would rather the city fix the roads then come into my backyard and get my garbage. I could take it to the treelawn like everyone else in America.
Of course there's always the ubiquitous grease on the inside of your calf. But what the hell, I'm a big fan of physical evidence.
At first, it seemed a little inconvenient. It takes a little bit longer to do some things. But only a little. I have found that your sense of time begins to adjust, and you don't notice the difference anymore.
For example:
To rent a DVD, I have about a 3 minute drive to go in a car(if I have to find parking, even longer). On my bike, about 5-6 minutes. This includes getting the bike out of the basement, the ride itself and locking it up. Not a big deal. Probably about 50-60 calories burned. My internal clock now is adjusted to this time and so when I want to go get a movie, I know it will take me "5-6 minutes".
I will be bummed out when it gets too cold and sloppy to ride. I'll have to walk and re-adjust my internal clock again. I certainly won't be able to count on the crummy public transportation in this town(a full review of the RTA is coming soon...)
In the meantime, if you have a bike, get the old gal out and put her to work...that's what she's fer.
Monday, June 19, 2006
Go away sun
Where are all the quiet, grey, cool, drizzly days? All this sun and heat is interfering with my grouchiness...and that annoys me.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
You get what you pay for.
Well, it's happened again. I've gone to visit another great city and come home depressed. This time Toronto. I was there about 15 years ago when I was a clueless young man, so while my impressions were valid, my perspectives were pretty limited. The things that impressed me then: the abundance of people who were out and about at 3am, the interesting night clubs and strip clubs, Chinatown, the subway (which we rode once) and the high quality of prostitutes,who seemed to be everywhere(I'll go on record as saying "I did not have sex with those women").
Since then, I have been to NYC several times, San Francisco, Montreal, Chicago, New Orleans(pre-Katrina) Philadelphia, Mexico City and several other medium-size cities. In other words, my standards for big cities are fairly specific and refined. I know what I'm looking for and I think can quickly identify whether or not the place is happening. Here are my criteria for great large cities (not in any particular order):
1. Public Transportation. This is absolutely crucial for any city of reasonable size. A good, healthy city has different neighborhoods that pan out in all directions from the central business district, each with something particular to offer. For example, in Toronto, Queen Street West has a large portion of designer shopping closer to the downtown business district. As you move west, the vibe becomes more bohemian and this is where many of the city's art galleries are located. Other sections of the city have particular architectual qualities, for instance Cabbagetown has according to the Cabbagetown Preservation Association "the largest continuous area of preserved Victorian housing in North America". These two areas are on opposite sides of the city so while walking is possible, public transportation allows for easy and quick commuting between these areas for work, fun, or shopping.
Toronto has a phenomenal public transport system. An easy-to-understand combination of subway, streetcar and bus lines can get you just about anywhere. The subways run until 2am and the streetcars and buses run 24 hrs. My wife and I stayed on the upper east end of the city but were able to go anywhere we wanted for dinner/music/shopping without ever getting into our car or walking ourselves ragged.
Here's a pic I found on a web resource:
Notice how narrow the cars are, allowing streetcars to pass in both directions while still allowing for automobile traffic.
Quality transportation also provides better access to different parts of a city to those who cannot afford(or choose not)to own a car. By contrast, Cleveland's public transportation system is inept, limited and aesthetically unappealing. It is managed for the least common denominator-i.e. those who have no choice but to use it, creating a system with very little accountability towards making wholesale improvements.
2. Walkability. It goes without saying, that any city worth a damn living in has amenities within a few minutes walk. I read a study that stated that most people are willing to walk 5 minutes in any direction to get what they need, after that they will drive or take public transport. By contrast, how many of you in Cleveland can walk 5 minutes from your house to buy a pair of jeans, shoes, eat dinner, rent a DVD, get money at an ATM, get drunk, hear a band etc...Living in Lakewood, Little Italy, Coventry, and small slivers of Cleveland (Ohio City, Tremont, warehouse district) are about it and all of these areas have serious limitations.
3. Diversity. Toronto is considered one of the world's most ethnically diverse cities ranking ahead of L.A., Vancouver, New York, Singapore and Sydney. Along with this diversity comes the many different styles of music, art, food, clothing, etc...The interesting thing about Toronto, is that there seems to be relatively little friction between these different people and cultures.
4. Economy. This is obvious. Every city needs to have some way of generating income other than taxing the hell out of its dwindling population(I'm fine with paying taxes as long as I can see production and progress). Toronto is a major commercial, distribution, financial and industrial center. Toronto and the surrounding areas produce more than half of the country's manufactured goods. Ontario's wealth of raw material and hydroelectric power made the city a primary center of industry. We all know how that's going in Cleveland. What made the city great-and it was great- was its role as a producer and manufacturer of goods. Now most of those jobs are in other countries. Make no mistake, stuff is still being manufactured....just not here.
5. Education. Toronto has several post-secondary educational institutions, providing the city with a constant flow of young minds, many of whom stay there after attaining their degrees. Cleveland's public school system has been an embarrassment for more than 30 years. Why would anyone with a family want to live there unless they could afford to send their kids to private school? But then again, since property taxes pay for most of our public schools, it stands to reason that poor neighborhoods have bad schools. They don't have any money. So where does it end?
6. General Cleanliness. While cities will always have issues with litter and pollution, a lot can be done to keep things reasonable. Toronto is remarkably clean compared to other large cities. Sections of NYC are flat out depressing...most of the subways look every bit of their 100+ years. Now I like grafitti art, but not on every damn building, bridge, wall, car, sidewalk...Toronto also has a nice waste system on every corner with separate containers for bottles, cans etc... People actually seem to use them as I saw very little garbage on the street. Cleveland on the other hand is filthy, even in its most publicly inhabited areas. The city is just poorly organized in dealing with this.
Now, I know this seems like a Toronto love fest...give me a break, I just got back yesterday...but it really is amazing how different this town is from Cleveland- a sister Great Lakes town just a shade over 5 hours away, with the same weather system, and many of the same resources. In fact, Cleveland sold some of its abandoned streetcars to Toronto back in the 1950s...oops.
On the down-side, the TTC(Toronto Transit Commission) abruptly went on strike 1 hour after we came home from our night out on Sunday(yes folks, I said Sunday...food, music and spirits late on Sunday). Apparently, the workers want safer conditions regarding their accessibility to riders(there is no separate partition for operators from the occasional nut who freaks out on the streetcar). This sounds reasonable, but striking really hurts the average person just trying to get to work. This rarely happens however, and has already been resolved, with service back up by the day's commute home.
here's a link to the story
The perception of a city that's interesting, vibrant, diverse and livable is totally dependant on these (and other) qualities. While all cities have problems and new challenges to face, proper planning as well as a higher expectation of its inhabitants is crucial to making an urban area healthy and appealing. Accepting low quality leadership, un-progressive urban planning, disregard for historical buildings, economic segregation and general apathy towards your city is a loser mentality. Even if you don't live in the city, thinking regionally is the way of the future and that responsibility lies squarely on the shoulders of a city's people.
*some facts and figures from wikipedia
Since then, I have been to NYC several times, San Francisco, Montreal, Chicago, New Orleans(pre-Katrina) Philadelphia, Mexico City and several other medium-size cities. In other words, my standards for big cities are fairly specific and refined. I know what I'm looking for and I think can quickly identify whether or not the place is happening. Here are my criteria for great large cities (not in any particular order):
1. Public Transportation. This is absolutely crucial for any city of reasonable size. A good, healthy city has different neighborhoods that pan out in all directions from the central business district, each with something particular to offer. For example, in Toronto, Queen Street West has a large portion of designer shopping closer to the downtown business district. As you move west, the vibe becomes more bohemian and this is where many of the city's art galleries are located. Other sections of the city have particular architectual qualities, for instance Cabbagetown has according to the Cabbagetown Preservation Association "the largest continuous area of preserved Victorian housing in North America". These two areas are on opposite sides of the city so while walking is possible, public transportation allows for easy and quick commuting between these areas for work, fun, or shopping.
Toronto has a phenomenal public transport system. An easy-to-understand combination of subway, streetcar and bus lines can get you just about anywhere. The subways run until 2am and the streetcars and buses run 24 hrs. My wife and I stayed on the upper east end of the city but were able to go anywhere we wanted for dinner/music/shopping without ever getting into our car or walking ourselves ragged.
Here's a pic I found on a web resource:
Notice how narrow the cars are, allowing streetcars to pass in both directions while still allowing for automobile traffic.
Quality transportation also provides better access to different parts of a city to those who cannot afford(or choose not)to own a car. By contrast, Cleveland's public transportation system is inept, limited and aesthetically unappealing. It is managed for the least common denominator-i.e. those who have no choice but to use it, creating a system with very little accountability towards making wholesale improvements.
2. Walkability. It goes without saying, that any city worth a damn living in has amenities within a few minutes walk. I read a study that stated that most people are willing to walk 5 minutes in any direction to get what they need, after that they will drive or take public transport. By contrast, how many of you in Cleveland can walk 5 minutes from your house to buy a pair of jeans, shoes, eat dinner, rent a DVD, get money at an ATM, get drunk, hear a band etc...Living in Lakewood, Little Italy, Coventry, and small slivers of Cleveland (Ohio City, Tremont, warehouse district) are about it and all of these areas have serious limitations.
3. Diversity. Toronto is considered one of the world's most ethnically diverse cities ranking ahead of L.A., Vancouver, New York, Singapore and Sydney. Along with this diversity comes the many different styles of music, art, food, clothing, etc...The interesting thing about Toronto, is that there seems to be relatively little friction between these different people and cultures.
4. Economy. This is obvious. Every city needs to have some way of generating income other than taxing the hell out of its dwindling population(I'm fine with paying taxes as long as I can see production and progress). Toronto is a major commercial, distribution, financial and industrial center. Toronto and the surrounding areas produce more than half of the country's manufactured goods. Ontario's wealth of raw material and hydroelectric power made the city a primary center of industry. We all know how that's going in Cleveland. What made the city great-and it was great- was its role as a producer and manufacturer of goods. Now most of those jobs are in other countries. Make no mistake, stuff is still being manufactured....just not here.
5. Education. Toronto has several post-secondary educational institutions, providing the city with a constant flow of young minds, many of whom stay there after attaining their degrees. Cleveland's public school system has been an embarrassment for more than 30 years. Why would anyone with a family want to live there unless they could afford to send their kids to private school? But then again, since property taxes pay for most of our public schools, it stands to reason that poor neighborhoods have bad schools. They don't have any money. So where does it end?
6. General Cleanliness. While cities will always have issues with litter and pollution, a lot can be done to keep things reasonable. Toronto is remarkably clean compared to other large cities. Sections of NYC are flat out depressing...most of the subways look every bit of their 100+ years. Now I like grafitti art, but not on every damn building, bridge, wall, car, sidewalk...Toronto also has a nice waste system on every corner with separate containers for bottles, cans etc... People actually seem to use them as I saw very little garbage on the street. Cleveland on the other hand is filthy, even in its most publicly inhabited areas. The city is just poorly organized in dealing with this.
Now, I know this seems like a Toronto love fest...give me a break, I just got back yesterday...but it really is amazing how different this town is from Cleveland- a sister Great Lakes town just a shade over 5 hours away, with the same weather system, and many of the same resources. In fact, Cleveland sold some of its abandoned streetcars to Toronto back in the 1950s...oops.
On the down-side, the TTC(Toronto Transit Commission) abruptly went on strike 1 hour after we came home from our night out on Sunday(yes folks, I said Sunday...food, music and spirits late on Sunday). Apparently, the workers want safer conditions regarding their accessibility to riders(there is no separate partition for operators from the occasional nut who freaks out on the streetcar). This sounds reasonable, but striking really hurts the average person just trying to get to work. This rarely happens however, and has already been resolved, with service back up by the day's commute home.
here's a link to the story
The perception of a city that's interesting, vibrant, diverse and livable is totally dependant on these (and other) qualities. While all cities have problems and new challenges to face, proper planning as well as a higher expectation of its inhabitants is crucial to making an urban area healthy and appealing. Accepting low quality leadership, un-progressive urban planning, disregard for historical buildings, economic segregation and general apathy towards your city is a loser mentality. Even if you don't live in the city, thinking regionally is the way of the future and that responsibility lies squarely on the shoulders of a city's people.
*some facts and figures from wikipedia
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Ladies and Gentlemen...
So, the Mrs. and I are currently on a little Great Lakes voyage. First a few days in Niagara Falls and then three days in Toronto. Before we got married, we had a little budding tradition of going to Canada for Memorial weekend. Since Canada's big "kick-off" to summer holiday (Victoria Day) is the week before, Memorial Day in Canada is just a not-so-special late spring weekend...i.e. no obnoxious, drunken crowds to piss me off. This is particularly important when camping. There is nothing more assaulting to the senses than some drunken cracker singing Pink Floyd songs at the campfire next to you. Thou shall not committ murder...unless someone sings loudly and ignorantly out-of-key.
Anyway, Niagara Falls has long since been regarded as a thick blanket of tourist cheese, shamelessly covering the falls and upper Niagara river region with casinos, over-priced hotels, theme restaurants, junk shops and of course...wax museums. It certainly has all of these things.
Now I'll admit: I like to gamble a bit. Not much, but just a little. I like to sit at a video poker machine and piss around with $20 or so. I can't really afford to do this but I figure a little won't hurt and the unlikely chance that I could win a few dollars and pay off some bills is just too irresistable. Just for judgement backup, I have never done this without my wife sitting next to me. I just don't trust myself to know when it's time to back away. Cleveland has been talking about legalizing gambling, arguing that the money generated would be a much-needed windfall to the city. It seems to me this is really an issue of short-term vs. long-term. In my experience, the casinos that exist in non-tourist towns(like Cleveland)are mostly full of working-class people gambling with money they don't have. Places like Niagara, Vegas and the like have resources other than gambling to attract people. You'll still see local folks that got the "feva" but you'll also see a lot of recreational players (i.e. people who either choose their destination based on gambling or are just passing through and having a little fun...like me). Let me say this: The last thing that Cleveland (an old, depressed steeltown that's been steadily losing jobs for years) needs, is a bunch of second-rate casinos to suck up money that isn't there.
So, back to the Falls. Chintzyness aside the Falls are truly stunning. I've been up here three times in my life and they seem amazing every time. The energy harnessed from the falls(more than 6 million cubic feet of water falls over the crestline every minute) is used to power much of the area. The diversion of water to hydroelectric plants also serves to slow the erosion of the falls, which up until the modern era was receding 2-10 feet per year. Now, the question certainly needs to be asked if meddling with the geologic process will cause adverse effects on other parts of the local ecosystem...I mean the real reason to slow the rate of erosion is purely economic...who would go to the casinos if the falls weren't there? Either way, the falls will eventually reach Lake Erie and drain it completely-the bottom of Lake Erie is higher than the bottom of the falls.
So in the meantime, go and check it out. The promenade following the gorge along the Canadian side is really nice. The hotel developers have been prevented from building along the edge and blocking the view from everyone except hotel guests(have you been to Clearwater, Florida?)and it's beautifully landscaped and views of the American Falls as well as the Horeshoe Falls are accessible the entire way.
Here's a picture of me at Cave of the Winds on the American side. Basically, you take an elevator down about 175 feet, then walk across some wood decking up to the base of the Bridal Falls(between the Horseshoe and American Falls). This is the smallest of the three falls-about 1% of the water passing over-and it is still so powerful that the park has to rip all the decking out and replace it every year.
(Click for closeup)
Posing in front of the Horseshoe Falls:
If you get a chance, pay the $14 and ride The Maid of the Mist, a boat ride that takes you about as close as possible to the falls. Totally amazing! During the ride up river towards the falls, there was a pre-recorded narration with various facts and figures. As soon as we got up to the falls and were absolutely getting blasted with mist, the narrator paused and then with heroic Charlton Heston-like melodrama announced:
Ladies and gentlemen...this......is Niagara Falls!
Ah...the pungent smell of hoke.
Next, Toronto...
Anyway, Niagara Falls has long since been regarded as a thick blanket of tourist cheese, shamelessly covering the falls and upper Niagara river region with casinos, over-priced hotels, theme restaurants, junk shops and of course...wax museums. It certainly has all of these things.
Now I'll admit: I like to gamble a bit. Not much, but just a little. I like to sit at a video poker machine and piss around with $20 or so. I can't really afford to do this but I figure a little won't hurt and the unlikely chance that I could win a few dollars and pay off some bills is just too irresistable. Just for judgement backup, I have never done this without my wife sitting next to me. I just don't trust myself to know when it's time to back away. Cleveland has been talking about legalizing gambling, arguing that the money generated would be a much-needed windfall to the city. It seems to me this is really an issue of short-term vs. long-term. In my experience, the casinos that exist in non-tourist towns(like Cleveland)are mostly full of working-class people gambling with money they don't have. Places like Niagara, Vegas and the like have resources other than gambling to attract people. You'll still see local folks that got the "feva" but you'll also see a lot of recreational players (i.e. people who either choose their destination based on gambling or are just passing through and having a little fun...like me). Let me say this: The last thing that Cleveland (an old, depressed steeltown that's been steadily losing jobs for years) needs, is a bunch of second-rate casinos to suck up money that isn't there.
So, back to the Falls. Chintzyness aside the Falls are truly stunning. I've been up here three times in my life and they seem amazing every time. The energy harnessed from the falls(more than 6 million cubic feet of water falls over the crestline every minute) is used to power much of the area. The diversion of water to hydroelectric plants also serves to slow the erosion of the falls, which up until the modern era was receding 2-10 feet per year. Now, the question certainly needs to be asked if meddling with the geologic process will cause adverse effects on other parts of the local ecosystem...I mean the real reason to slow the rate of erosion is purely economic...who would go to the casinos if the falls weren't there? Either way, the falls will eventually reach Lake Erie and drain it completely-the bottom of Lake Erie is higher than the bottom of the falls.
So in the meantime, go and check it out. The promenade following the gorge along the Canadian side is really nice. The hotel developers have been prevented from building along the edge and blocking the view from everyone except hotel guests(have you been to Clearwater, Florida?)and it's beautifully landscaped and views of the American Falls as well as the Horeshoe Falls are accessible the entire way.
Here's a picture of me at Cave of the Winds on the American side. Basically, you take an elevator down about 175 feet, then walk across some wood decking up to the base of the Bridal Falls(between the Horseshoe and American Falls). This is the smallest of the three falls-about 1% of the water passing over-and it is still so powerful that the park has to rip all the decking out and replace it every year.
(Click for closeup)
Posing in front of the Horseshoe Falls:
If you get a chance, pay the $14 and ride The Maid of the Mist, a boat ride that takes you about as close as possible to the falls. Totally amazing! During the ride up river towards the falls, there was a pre-recorded narration with various facts and figures. As soon as we got up to the falls and were absolutely getting blasted with mist, the narrator paused and then with heroic Charlton Heston-like melodrama announced:
Ladies and gentlemen...this......is Niagara Falls!
Ah...the pungent smell of hoke.
Next, Toronto...
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
April showers bring a busy month of May
Lots of stuff going on. I have a 20-year high school reunion coming up. This sounds like a drag but it's not. My school was small(about 75 graduated in my class) and it was all male. Now, this may also sound like a drag but quite the contrary. Imagine a 4-year camping trip with a bunch of your friends. That pretty much sums up my high school years. In any event, I am one of the guys planning the thing and I started a "reunion blog" back in January, so most of my blogging has been happening at that locale. If for some unknown and strange reason you would like to see this blog, go here:
www.c-high86.blogspot.com
This little project has been a blast. I've been able to reconnect with several "old" friends. Many more to come...
I'm also working on a composition for the Cleveland Institute of Art's graduation ceremony. I've had to change my idea a few times due to technical restrictions, but I think things are moving a long nicely. Two of the second year students have built "instruments", both of which I need to integrate into the piece. This is sort of difficult because they seem to be conceived mostly as "interesting objects" rather than practical instruments. But I'll try....:)
I'm also doing a show with trumpet player John Keugelar and tabla player Joe Culley. I will be performing on guitar and electronics. I'll post more info when I get it.
www.c-high86.blogspot.com
This little project has been a blast. I've been able to reconnect with several "old" friends. Many more to come...
I'm also working on a composition for the Cleveland Institute of Art's graduation ceremony. I've had to change my idea a few times due to technical restrictions, but I think things are moving a long nicely. Two of the second year students have built "instruments", both of which I need to integrate into the piece. This is sort of difficult because they seem to be conceived mostly as "interesting objects" rather than practical instruments. But I'll try....:)
I'm also doing a show with trumpet player John Keugelar and tabla player Joe Culley. I will be performing on guitar and electronics. I'll post more info when I get it.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Thanks
My friend Randi tells me that she has received some donations from Ohio for her leukemia marathon (see previous post). If any of these are from people I know, Randi and myself thank you greatly for your generosity! If you have not donated and would like to, you still can...follow the link.
ars
ars
Friday, March 31, 2006
A very good thing.
My friend Randi from Portland, Oregon is running a marathon to raise $$$ for leukemia research and she is a little below her financial goals. If you or someone you know has been affected by this disease, please take a moment to make a donation. You can do it online(go to the link below), it's quick and it's tax deductible. The money raised really goes to fund research which is desperately needed. I know some of you are hesitant to give $$$ to people you don't know but this is legit. She's putting a lot of effort into this and I want to help her out.
randi's site
ars
randi's site
ars
Saturday, March 18, 2006
St. Drunkard's Day
So I went downtown for St. Patrick's day yesterday. It is amazing (and somewhat frightening) to see so many drunken folks in such high concentration. Most of the people seem to be of early to late college age. In other words, tadpoles. Man, I wouldn't go back to that time of my life for anything...except maybe my 6-pack abs. You know the scene: lots of staggering, over-eating, yelling-for-no-apparent reason, ridiculously dressed 21 year-olds. Anyway, I generally find the scene amusing on some level. It's sort of like standing at the brink of a raging river: you are compelled to jump in but logic tells you that instant death awaits. The most interesting part of the day was the ride downtown on the RAPID. It was heartening (even for just a day) to see so many folks using public transportation. It was almost as if I was living in a real, living and breathing city. Maybe a few of those people will think that the experience was cool (and convenient) and keep using the trains.
Probably not though...
Probably not though...
Saturday, February 25, 2006
What do our burning fields smell like?
I was talking to someone from Detroit last week, and we were discussing the similarities of our sister Great Lakes Cities(Cleveland). Both of them were once proud, progressive towns offering many opportunities to its inhabitants. In my opinion, the decline of the Great Lake Cities is a huge disgrace. This is a crucial region...we've practically built the country through our steel factories, auto plants and manufacturing plants. We have most of the fresh water (the largest collection of fresh water lakes in the world) We don't have a lot of natural disasters and the climate is reasonable(I know people like to bitch about the winters but try living in North Dakota...)
Often, when large cities get abandoned, the property values plummet which opens up the area to artists and other entrepreneurial types, who take advantage of the space/cost ratio. This often leads to a "scene" that springs up out of the ashes, which then becomes gentrified by those who have money and are now willing to live there. When this happens, the artists can no longer afford to live there and move on to the next squalid neighborhood...kind of like carpet-bagging...so it goes. This is generally a good thing. So the question is; is this happening enough in Cleveland and its' surrounding inner-ring suburbs? We know that many of the abandoned warehouses in certain areas have been rehabbed for residential use but these are mostly unaffordable to the average person. What is needed is more downtown affordable housing. It's the only way to get ordinary people to live in the city. And that's what makes good cities great:a population with economic diversity.
If we've hit rock bottom, what's the best way to get back up? We know from our recent past that building big ticket items is only a small temporary solution. If you burn the fields is it guaranteed that the next crop is better?
Often, when large cities get abandoned, the property values plummet which opens up the area to artists and other entrepreneurial types, who take advantage of the space/cost ratio. This often leads to a "scene" that springs up out of the ashes, which then becomes gentrified by those who have money and are now willing to live there. When this happens, the artists can no longer afford to live there and move on to the next squalid neighborhood...kind of like carpet-bagging...so it goes. This is generally a good thing. So the question is; is this happening enough in Cleveland and its' surrounding inner-ring suburbs? We know that many of the abandoned warehouses in certain areas have been rehabbed for residential use but these are mostly unaffordable to the average person. What is needed is more downtown affordable housing. It's the only way to get ordinary people to live in the city. And that's what makes good cities great:a population with economic diversity.
If we've hit rock bottom, what's the best way to get back up? We know from our recent past that building big ticket items is only a small temporary solution. If you burn the fields is it guaranteed that the next crop is better?
Friday, February 24, 2006
The Musk Ox
The human race is amazing. We are such gluttons for doom. And violent. When we can't get along, we fight and kill each other instead of using our most dominant attribute-our intelligence. We spend trillions of dollars making things that kill people, we eat/engineer food that's horrible for us, we watch and listen to stupid entertainment that rots our brains, we make most of our choices based on our own personal convenience regardless of the impact on others and our environment, we pump ourselves full of drugs for every little physical ailment even when some of these things can be solved by simply making better choices...etc...
To top it all off, we spend most of our lives preparing for our destiny after we die. I'm not here to debate the existence of Gods and the afterlife-there are much wiser folks than me to do that. But so many people forget about the simple beauty of being alive: looking into someone's eyes, petting an animal, watching a baby laugh, eating delicious food, being in love, listening to music, playing sports, taking a photogragh, telling stories... just watching the world pass by. So much suffering, confusion, cruelty, fear, pain, injustice...it's enough to make someone go nuts with frustration.
We are just barely in control. The earth and the universe are "alive and well and living in"...think of the planet as a Musk Ox...when there are too many flies, it simply shakes it's ass and gets rid of some of them.
Au revoir!
To top it all off, we spend most of our lives preparing for our destiny after we die. I'm not here to debate the existence of Gods and the afterlife-there are much wiser folks than me to do that. But so many people forget about the simple beauty of being alive: looking into someone's eyes, petting an animal, watching a baby laugh, eating delicious food, being in love, listening to music, playing sports, taking a photogragh, telling stories... just watching the world pass by. So much suffering, confusion, cruelty, fear, pain, injustice...it's enough to make someone go nuts with frustration.
We are just barely in control. The earth and the universe are "alive and well and living in"...think of the planet as a Musk Ox...when there are too many flies, it simply shakes it's ass and gets rid of some of them.
Au revoir!
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Driving like an A-hole
Driving a car brings out the worst in most people. How many people would go up to someone's face, give them the digit, and loudly cuss them out? A confrontation like that would usually be reserved for the most insidious circumstances. Yet on the road, this happens so often, easily and seemingly unprovoked, that it has almost become the conventional way of communicating while operating heavy machinery. As a comparison, let's try and correlate two similar circumstances; one on the road and one on the sidewalk.
The Bully Tactic
Let's say your walking down a crowded sidewalk (any busy city street will serve as a good example). The person in front of you is moving much slower than you(maybe they're old, in bad shape, not in a hurry, looking for something -or maybe they're just a weenie)...but you're stuck behind them until you get a chance to pass. A mature, normally-adjusted person would probably keep a reasonable distance, mutter their frustration under their breath, and wait for a suitable opportunity to get around. An impatient, arrogant, angry bully-type would hover too close, huff and puff out loud, try and push the person to go faster even though they could just wait and go around them. If really annoyed, this person may even say something when they do get around. This person is a jack-ass. Unequivocally.
Luckily, most reasonable people don't act in this fashion...except in cars. Normal, friendly, well-adjusted people reduce themselves to acting like mad children once they get behind the wheel of a car. It's not out of the ordinary for someone to speed up and ride someone's ass when they can just pass them. This is especially shabby when someone is driving in the right lane....THAT'S WHAT IT'S FOR. And it's just as customary to pass someone (with a raging fury), give them the finger, scowl menacingly and mouth numerous obscenities as they soar past. I have done this myself. And almost always (except when someone is yappin' on their phone) I feel like a heel afterwards.
I would never treat someone that way face-to-face. But in a car, we are not held accountable for our behavior towards other people. We don't really have to look them in the eye and say f*ck you...it's so much easier to vilify someone when they are an abstract operator of a machine.
I'm no driving guru. Anyone who has known me for any significant amount of time knows this. But is it too much to ask for people to chill out while driving a two-ton vehicle? It may be an impossible task but I think it's worth considering.
The Bully Tactic
Let's say your walking down a crowded sidewalk (any busy city street will serve as a good example). The person in front of you is moving much slower than you(maybe they're old, in bad shape, not in a hurry, looking for something -or maybe they're just a weenie)...but you're stuck behind them until you get a chance to pass. A mature, normally-adjusted person would probably keep a reasonable distance, mutter their frustration under their breath, and wait for a suitable opportunity to get around. An impatient, arrogant, angry bully-type would hover too close, huff and puff out loud, try and push the person to go faster even though they could just wait and go around them. If really annoyed, this person may even say something when they do get around. This person is a jack-ass. Unequivocally.
Luckily, most reasonable people don't act in this fashion...except in cars. Normal, friendly, well-adjusted people reduce themselves to acting like mad children once they get behind the wheel of a car. It's not out of the ordinary for someone to speed up and ride someone's ass when they can just pass them. This is especially shabby when someone is driving in the right lane....THAT'S WHAT IT'S FOR. And it's just as customary to pass someone (with a raging fury), give them the finger, scowl menacingly and mouth numerous obscenities as they soar past. I have done this myself. And almost always (except when someone is yappin' on their phone) I feel like a heel afterwards.
I would never treat someone that way face-to-face. But in a car, we are not held accountable for our behavior towards other people. We don't really have to look them in the eye and say f*ck you...it's so much easier to vilify someone when they are an abstract operator of a machine.
I'm no driving guru. Anyone who has known me for any significant amount of time knows this. But is it too much to ask for people to chill out while driving a two-ton vehicle? It may be an impossible task but I think it's worth considering.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Facial Hair II
Some of you may remember my post about 4 months back lamenting the accidental loss of my beloved facial hair. Since then, with the exception of my neck and a little trimming here and there,(who the hell can stand hair on their neck?)my countenance has been spared the humiliating process of shaving. What has transpired is quite impressive in my estimation. I must admit however, I'm somewhat surprised at the amount of silver that showed up...while I know it makes me look much older, I'm sort of into the mountain-man look....and my wife thinks it's a sign of manliness. One of my students said that I look like I should have a raccoon on my shoulder...now that sounds like a cool look.
Check it out:
Check it out:
Monday, February 13, 2006
Something to consider...
"The enemy is anybody who's going to get you killed, no matter which side he's on."
-Joseph Heller (author of Catch 22)
"The enemy is anybody who's going to get you killed, no matter which side he's on."
-Joseph Heller (author of Catch 22)
Friday, January 27, 2006
Hostel
I saw the movie Hostel last week with my buddy Dave. If your wondering why, my only answer is that I suppose I possess a deviant trait that encourages my 3rd party participation in grotesque/shocking behaviors...and Dave is the only one I thought would share in this recidivism. We used to joke about torture contraptions and painful processes that would be conducted upon the most aberrent of criminals...Of course these "experiments" were always imagined in casual conversation: over eggs at 3am, bike rides or road trips - and always conceived in a "white lab-coat, bespectacled, beyond the plexi-glass wall sort of setting"...as if something important were taking place. This was all for our own dark amusement of course, so we figured this movie would be an articulated version of these inside jokes.
It was certainly articulated. But in a gritty, euro-medieval, blood-dried-in-the-cracks-of-stone sort of way. It was very disturbing.
While travelling across Europe, two Americans end up in a Slovakian hostel reported to have the most beautiful, eager young women in Europe. The hostel turns out to be a sort of "specimen" holding pen for an organization that offers an "opportunity" (to any one who can afford it) for its' sadistic customers to torture/kill their subjects in any fashion they please. Most of them choose "personal" techniques ...power tools, hand tools, cutting, twisting, prying, mind games etc...
What makes the movie disturbing is not the gore-this has unfortunately become ubiquitous in movie culture-it's the way it's filmed and the way it's set up. The film is gritty and dark, often viewed from the victim's point of view, with things often just out of focus or implied. And the setting of a not-so-prosperous central-european city is very eerie. Adding to the creep value is the fact that many of the central characters are set up by sexy, young, beautiful women who are getting paid for their snaring prowess. Thinking how I was in my early 20s, it's pretty easy to imagine getting tricked with pretty girls, booze and partying only to get carved up like a Chritmas ham.
Anyway, Dave and were both pretty disturbed (in a satisfied sort of way...) afterwards. Both of us pretty speechless, just kind of reiterating what we saw and then going home. As a film, it has it's flaws, but as an idea it's an effective premise for a horror story.
Anyway, dreams were strange that night.
I saw the movie Hostel last week with my buddy Dave. If your wondering why, my only answer is that I suppose I possess a deviant trait that encourages my 3rd party participation in grotesque/shocking behaviors...and Dave is the only one I thought would share in this recidivism. We used to joke about torture contraptions and painful processes that would be conducted upon the most aberrent of criminals...Of course these "experiments" were always imagined in casual conversation: over eggs at 3am, bike rides or road trips - and always conceived in a "white lab-coat, bespectacled, beyond the plexi-glass wall sort of setting"...as if something important were taking place. This was all for our own dark amusement of course, so we figured this movie would be an articulated version of these inside jokes.
It was certainly articulated. But in a gritty, euro-medieval, blood-dried-in-the-cracks-of-stone sort of way. It was very disturbing.
While travelling across Europe, two Americans end up in a Slovakian hostel reported to have the most beautiful, eager young women in Europe. The hostel turns out to be a sort of "specimen" holding pen for an organization that offers an "opportunity" (to any one who can afford it) for its' sadistic customers to torture/kill their subjects in any fashion they please. Most of them choose "personal" techniques ...power tools, hand tools, cutting, twisting, prying, mind games etc...
What makes the movie disturbing is not the gore-this has unfortunately become ubiquitous in movie culture-it's the way it's filmed and the way it's set up. The film is gritty and dark, often viewed from the victim's point of view, with things often just out of focus or implied. And the setting of a not-so-prosperous central-european city is very eerie. Adding to the creep value is the fact that many of the central characters are set up by sexy, young, beautiful women who are getting paid for their snaring prowess. Thinking how I was in my early 20s, it's pretty easy to imagine getting tricked with pretty girls, booze and partying only to get carved up like a Chritmas ham.
Anyway, Dave and were both pretty disturbed (in a satisfied sort of way...) afterwards. Both of us pretty speechless, just kind of reiterating what we saw and then going home. As a film, it has it's flaws, but as an idea it's an effective premise for a horror story.
Anyway, dreams were strange that night.
Heavy Metal Roots
I've been revisiting some music that was very influential on me in my "youth". While much of this music doesn't hold up too well (I'm thinking of some of the 80s metal bands that I liked), some of it sounds better to me now. During a recent binge, I bought a digitally remastered "Rage for Order" by Queensryche. I was very much into this music back in the mid to late 80s. As far as metal goes, this record is really a waypoint. Incorporating a lot of (then) current music technology (i.e. samplers, drum programming, and sequencing) the record has a very terminator-like view of the future: Machines taking over, public and political chaos, remorse for culture lost, and prophet-like crys for change.
The things I liked about the music back then was the great production, the adventurous, creative song-writing which succeeds without becoming too self-indulgent and boring..and of course the great guitar-playing. I really wasn't that interested in lyrics, seeing them mostly as a vehicle for melody. Listening to this record 20 years later, all of these things hold up well. In addition, the lyrics are still interesting.
Check out this verse and chorus from "Chemical Youth":
LEAD ME- the leftist cry as the right subsides
HEAR ME- the media mouth is open wide
SAVE ME- success is our hunger we need to feed
FREE ME- we will not lose to their anarchy!
We are your leaders-
we are rebellion!
aural supremists
we are rebellion!
we are future!
It's also interesting how much the aesthetic of rock singing has changed. Back then, operatic-like singing (particularly tenor range) was all the rage...pun intended. For the last 15 yrs or so, the trend in male rock vocals has been lower-pitched voices with a much more limited vocal range and more emphasis on grit. There are obvious exceptions. I'm thinking here of Jeff Buckley and jónsi of Sigur Ros....tenors for sure.
Anyway, as much as I love Rage for Order, the way the band looked during this phase of their career is unforgivable. Shameless posers! Even for all of my bad, cheesy fashion choices, I remember thinking they looked ridiculous. Good Lord!
I've been revisiting some music that was very influential on me in my "youth". While much of this music doesn't hold up too well (I'm thinking of some of the 80s metal bands that I liked), some of it sounds better to me now. During a recent binge, I bought a digitally remastered "Rage for Order" by Queensryche. I was very much into this music back in the mid to late 80s. As far as metal goes, this record is really a waypoint. Incorporating a lot of (then) current music technology (i.e. samplers, drum programming, and sequencing) the record has a very terminator-like view of the future: Machines taking over, public and political chaos, remorse for culture lost, and prophet-like crys for change.
The things I liked about the music back then was the great production, the adventurous, creative song-writing which succeeds without becoming too self-indulgent and boring..and of course the great guitar-playing. I really wasn't that interested in lyrics, seeing them mostly as a vehicle for melody. Listening to this record 20 years later, all of these things hold up well. In addition, the lyrics are still interesting.
Check out this verse and chorus from "Chemical Youth":
LEAD ME- the leftist cry as the right subsides
HEAR ME- the media mouth is open wide
SAVE ME- success is our hunger we need to feed
FREE ME- we will not lose to their anarchy!
We are your leaders-
we are rebellion!
aural supremists
we are rebellion!
we are future!
It's also interesting how much the aesthetic of rock singing has changed. Back then, operatic-like singing (particularly tenor range) was all the rage...pun intended. For the last 15 yrs or so, the trend in male rock vocals has been lower-pitched voices with a much more limited vocal range and more emphasis on grit. There are obvious exceptions. I'm thinking here of Jeff Buckley and jónsi of Sigur Ros....tenors for sure.
Anyway, as much as I love Rage for Order, the way the band looked during this phase of their career is unforgivable. Shameless posers! Even for all of my bad, cheesy fashion choices, I remember thinking they looked ridiculous. Good Lord!
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Bad Time Management
I've been amazingly slothful in keeping up with this blog. The holiday season always forces me into hibernation, anti-social behavior and inertia. It's certainly not for lack of subject matter. I've been actively ruminating on a number of topics ranging from local/regional development issues, music and art, movie reviews and political observations.
Meanwhile, I start back to teaching this week. This semester I'll be there four days a week. I'm always conflicted about teaching. On one hand, I enjoy meeting a new batch of students, setting up the semester's ideals and getting into a more structural schedule. On the other hand, I hate getting up early in the morning(class starts at 8am on Tuesday and Thursday), sitting in my steel egg for 45 minutes(each way), road wrastling with a bunch of other cranky highway slaves, and basically not being able to do as much other work (i.e. making music, getting more involved in helping my town become a better place, fixing my house and having political polemics with my friends:)
Anyway, I'm not really complaining. I have more time than most folks, and I spend most of it doing things I enjoy. But driving all over N.E. Ohio for the most mundane of activities like work, shopping, errands etc... seems like such a waste of time. I'd rather sit on a train or streetcar where I could be productive. I think it's too much to ask of most folks to have to operate heavy machinery for a large part of their day. People work hard. They get tired. Inevitably, concentration drifts, tempers flare, and critters unpredictably(at least it seems that way to us)dart out in front of our vehicles to scare the hell out of us. Trying to juggle putting on makeup, shaving, talking on our damn cell phones, tweaking knobs on our audio devices, pounding coffee(this activity should be savored) and slobbering down some cheap, inferior, irresponsibly prepared ration just seems unfair and frankly, to be a flawed way of life. I mean, people get paid a lot of money to operate machinery. Why should we have to do it? Driving should be reserved for those moments of leisure, like traveling, or for those situations when transporting heavy/bulky goods prohibit carrying them long distances. Much more on this later...
I've been amazingly slothful in keeping up with this blog. The holiday season always forces me into hibernation, anti-social behavior and inertia. It's certainly not for lack of subject matter. I've been actively ruminating on a number of topics ranging from local/regional development issues, music and art, movie reviews and political observations.
Meanwhile, I start back to teaching this week. This semester I'll be there four days a week. I'm always conflicted about teaching. On one hand, I enjoy meeting a new batch of students, setting up the semester's ideals and getting into a more structural schedule. On the other hand, I hate getting up early in the morning(class starts at 8am on Tuesday and Thursday), sitting in my steel egg for 45 minutes(each way), road wrastling with a bunch of other cranky highway slaves, and basically not being able to do as much other work (i.e. making music, getting more involved in helping my town become a better place, fixing my house and having political polemics with my friends:)
Anyway, I'm not really complaining. I have more time than most folks, and I spend most of it doing things I enjoy. But driving all over N.E. Ohio for the most mundane of activities like work, shopping, errands etc... seems like such a waste of time. I'd rather sit on a train or streetcar where I could be productive. I think it's too much to ask of most folks to have to operate heavy machinery for a large part of their day. People work hard. They get tired. Inevitably, concentration drifts, tempers flare, and critters unpredictably(at least it seems that way to us)dart out in front of our vehicles to scare the hell out of us. Trying to juggle putting on makeup, shaving, talking on our damn cell phones, tweaking knobs on our audio devices, pounding coffee(this activity should be savored) and slobbering down some cheap, inferior, irresponsibly prepared ration just seems unfair and frankly, to be a flawed way of life. I mean, people get paid a lot of money to operate machinery. Why should we have to do it? Driving should be reserved for those moments of leisure, like traveling, or for those situations when transporting heavy/bulky goods prohibit carrying them long distances. Much more on this later...
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Growing up, Richard Pryor was my favorite comedian. Sneaking a listen to his records was always a treat. He was brutally honest. There was nothing he wouldn't talk about:sex, race, drug use, and a whole myriad of social issues. He was the link between Redd Foxx and Eddie Murphy in the lineage of hard black comedians that continue today with Chris Rock and Dave Chapelle(check out Harlem Nights with Foxx, Pryor and Murphy). It's hard to understate his influence. He literally invented the mock "white man voice" that most black comedians have adopted. His early records are fairly shocking even now. He was also a huge donator and supporter of organizations for abandoned and abused animals. If you go to his site you will see all kinds of links about this.
In 1998, he was awarded the first Kennedy Center Mark Twain Humor Prize. This was his acceptance speech:
"Two things people throughout history have had in common are hatred and humor. I am proud, that like Mark Twain, I've been able to use humor to lessen people's hatred. I feel great about accepting this prize. It is nice to be regarded on par with a great white man. Now that's funny."
Anyway, R.I.P.
In 1998, he was awarded the first Kennedy Center Mark Twain Humor Prize. This was his acceptance speech:
"Two things people throughout history have had in common are hatred and humor. I am proud, that like Mark Twain, I've been able to use humor to lessen people's hatred. I feel great about accepting this prize. It is nice to be regarded on par with a great white man. Now that's funny."
Anyway, R.I.P.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
Sunday, December 04, 2005
Laura's birthday bowling party was a success despite hideous weather conditions. Thanks to all who made the trek. Here's a really funny picture that I couldn't have set up if I had tried. Angles and perspective are everything:
What makes this even funnier is the look/expression on Fred's face(guy in the background with striped shirt). Brilliant!
What makes this even funnier is the look/expression on Fred's face(guy in the background with striped shirt). Brilliant!
Saturday, December 03, 2005
Tis' the Season
So, we put up a Christmas tree for the first time in three years...our cat(Stella) was just too much of a beast. Now that she's a little over two years old, we figured we would give it a shot (of course not until I screwed the base down to a wooden platform and tied the top of the tree to our drapery rod with 10lb fishing line...we'll see).
Here's the Beast within:
Anyway, as we were doing this, I went through most of my Holiday music collection. In addition to the traditional choral stuff and the classic favourites (Nat King Cole, Bing etc...) a few selections always stand out.
A couple of thoughts:
-Elvis really was a badass...I grew up listening to his Xmas record and as many times as I've heard it, I still find it tremendously unique and entertaining. His Elvis'ims are astounding: "A, h'al huh, ha-ve' a-a blue, Cha' ristmas a' wi'--thout you.....awesome! I'll take his version of White Christmas over Bing's any day...really nice backing vocal arrangement. "I'll Be Home for Christmas" really makes me nostalgic of all of the trips to Altoona, Pa. for Christmas when I was a kid...very nice piano playing on this track. My favourite by far though is "Santa Claus is Back in Town", a rousing blues shuffle. Elvis always had a killer backup band and this tune really sounds great. What I really like about this tune though, are the lyrics. Sung in first-person, it tells of the triumphant return of "Santa" to his long-awaited lover. Check out these lyrics:
"Got no sleigh or with reindeer,
No sack on my back,
You'll see me comin'....in a big, black cadillac"
Awesome.
I'll admit, when I was a kid I sort of misunderstood the meaning of this verse:
"Hang up your pretty stockins',
Turn out your lights,
Santa Claus is comin', down your chimney tonight..."
I wonder what kind of toys he had in that bag....
----------------------------------------
The Grinch.
I still can't believe someone allowed Jim Carey to come anywhere near the made-for-Hollywood movie of this beautiful tale.
The song "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch" is still one of the funniest, most creative Xmas tunes I know of. I usually judge how good things are by whether or not I wish that I wrote them...well, I wish I had written that tune...In addition to the brilliant orchestration and catchy tune...the words....my God:
"Your heart's a dead tomato splotched with moldy purple spots, Mr. Grinch.
"Your soul is an appalling dump heap, overflowing with the most disgraceful assortment of deplorable rubbish imaginable...mangled up in....tangled up knots.
On that sentiment, enjoy the Holiday season...whatever Holiday you celebrate.
So, we put up a Christmas tree for the first time in three years...our cat(Stella) was just too much of a beast. Now that she's a little over two years old, we figured we would give it a shot (of course not until I screwed the base down to a wooden platform and tied the top of the tree to our drapery rod with 10lb fishing line...we'll see).
Here's the Beast within:
Anyway, as we were doing this, I went through most of my Holiday music collection. In addition to the traditional choral stuff and the classic favourites (Nat King Cole, Bing etc...) a few selections always stand out.
A couple of thoughts:
-Elvis really was a badass...I grew up listening to his Xmas record and as many times as I've heard it, I still find it tremendously unique and entertaining. His Elvis'ims are astounding: "A, h'al huh, ha-ve' a-a blue, Cha' ristmas a' wi'--thout you.....awesome! I'll take his version of White Christmas over Bing's any day...really nice backing vocal arrangement. "I'll Be Home for Christmas" really makes me nostalgic of all of the trips to Altoona, Pa. for Christmas when I was a kid...very nice piano playing on this track. My favourite by far though is "Santa Claus is Back in Town", a rousing blues shuffle. Elvis always had a killer backup band and this tune really sounds great. What I really like about this tune though, are the lyrics. Sung in first-person, it tells of the triumphant return of "Santa" to his long-awaited lover. Check out these lyrics:
"Got no sleigh or with reindeer,
No sack on my back,
You'll see me comin'....in a big, black cadillac"
Awesome.
I'll admit, when I was a kid I sort of misunderstood the meaning of this verse:
"Hang up your pretty stockins',
Turn out your lights,
Santa Claus is comin', down your chimney tonight..."
I wonder what kind of toys he had in that bag....
----------------------------------------
The Grinch.
I still can't believe someone allowed Jim Carey to come anywhere near the made-for-Hollywood movie of this beautiful tale.
The song "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch" is still one of the funniest, most creative Xmas tunes I know of. I usually judge how good things are by whether or not I wish that I wrote them...well, I wish I had written that tune...In addition to the brilliant orchestration and catchy tune...the words....my God:
"Your heart's a dead tomato splotched with moldy purple spots, Mr. Grinch.
"Your soul is an appalling dump heap, overflowing with the most disgraceful assortment of deplorable rubbish imaginable...mangled up in....tangled up knots.
On that sentiment, enjoy the Holiday season...whatever Holiday you celebrate.
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
Sorry about the long gap between posts. Just got back from another road trip this past weekend. I visited my cousins Jamie and her brother Keith in Philidelphia Thursday night, then drove up through New Jersey to NYC. I had never been to Philly before this trip, and while it was a short visit, I got to see a bit of the town. In the older parts of town, lots of very cool colonial townhouses which line the narrow streets. Perfect for walking around. All kinds of pubs, restaurants, and other places to hang out and spend $$$. I can't wait to go back and check it out during the day and do some touristy things.
Recorded two short sessions in NYC, one with Jeremy Bleich(oud) and Brook Martinez(tabla) and another with Jeremy and Joe Tomino on electronics. These sessions will be part of Jeremy's upcoming solo cd, of which I will do the recording and probably some creative editing/production.
New York is still great. I have had a long-time crush on the city for many years. Every time I go there, I expect to find myself over it; no longer impressed by the bustle, the never-ending options, the music, the art, the great food, the energy, the architecture, the hipsters, the cynical, sarcastic, ironic attitude of many of it's inhabitants...the subways. But every time I go, I experience things at a more local, everyday level...which just makes me love it even more. One thing for sure: Driving a car in NYC is a pain in the ass. That city more than any other I have been to is built for walking...it just so happened to be the New York Marathon this past weekend which meant that lots of people wanted into the city. It took me 45 minutes just to get into the city via the Holland tunnel and about an hour to get from Brooklyn to New Jersey on my way home. Not good.
This past time, I stayed with (former Clevelanders) Joe Tomino and his wife Trish in Williamsburg. While Williamsburg isn't where I would choose to live (not my style aestheticly speaking), it is a very cool, hip place to hang. Lots of everything close by and very close to the subway stops. Joe and Trish were very cool letting me crash there, especially since neither of them had a lot to do over the weekend and they probably wanted some "down time".
A very funny thing happened. On my way to Philly, my friend (and percussionist) Mel Csicsila called me just to catch up and casually mentioned he would be in NYC the same weekend...so! Instead of driving 9hrs across I-80 at night by myself I had some good company which really made the drive cool. Thanks Mel!
Recorded two short sessions in NYC, one with Jeremy Bleich(oud) and Brook Martinez(tabla) and another with Jeremy and Joe Tomino on electronics. These sessions will be part of Jeremy's upcoming solo cd, of which I will do the recording and probably some creative editing/production.
New York is still great. I have had a long-time crush on the city for many years. Every time I go there, I expect to find myself over it; no longer impressed by the bustle, the never-ending options, the music, the art, the great food, the energy, the architecture, the hipsters, the cynical, sarcastic, ironic attitude of many of it's inhabitants...the subways. But every time I go, I experience things at a more local, everyday level...which just makes me love it even more. One thing for sure: Driving a car in NYC is a pain in the ass. That city more than any other I have been to is built for walking...it just so happened to be the New York Marathon this past weekend which meant that lots of people wanted into the city. It took me 45 minutes just to get into the city via the Holland tunnel and about an hour to get from Brooklyn to New Jersey on my way home. Not good.
This past time, I stayed with (former Clevelanders) Joe Tomino and his wife Trish in Williamsburg. While Williamsburg isn't where I would choose to live (not my style aestheticly speaking), it is a very cool, hip place to hang. Lots of everything close by and very close to the subway stops. Joe and Trish were very cool letting me crash there, especially since neither of them had a lot to do over the weekend and they probably wanted some "down time".
A very funny thing happened. On my way to Philly, my friend (and percussionist) Mel Csicsila called me just to catch up and casually mentioned he would be in NYC the same weekend...so! Instead of driving 9hrs across I-80 at night by myself I had some good company which really made the drive cool. Thanks Mel!
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Facial Hair
Every couple of months I get the urge to experiment with facial hair. Occaisionally, this turns out to be a disaster. Well, I'm currently fascinated with the late 19th century...truly the golden era of men's facial hair styles, and so I had the grand idea of trying this design:
Unfortunately, it didn't come out so well. I made a mess of it, and as I tried to fix things..I made them worse. At this point, there wasn't much left to do but admit failure and start from scratch. Now most people who know me, are aware that I almost NEVER have a clean-shaven face (I've got strong opinions on men with no facial hair....you know who you are!!!!). Anyway, for me it's kind of like taking your clothes off...The last time I did this (about 7yrs ago), my friend Dave Drotos told me that I resembled the retro toy "Inchworm". Of course I didn't really like this but secretly admitted he might be onto something. Anyway, since this may not happen again for several years, I decided to have a little fun.
You decide for yourselves:
Unfortunately, it didn't come out so well. I made a mess of it, and as I tried to fix things..I made them worse. At this point, there wasn't much left to do but admit failure and start from scratch. Now most people who know me, are aware that I almost NEVER have a clean-shaven face (I've got strong opinions on men with no facial hair....you know who you are!!!!). Anyway, for me it's kind of like taking your clothes off...The last time I did this (about 7yrs ago), my friend Dave Drotos told me that I resembled the retro toy "Inchworm". Of course I didn't really like this but secretly admitted he might be onto something. Anyway, since this may not happen again for several years, I decided to have a little fun.
You decide for yourselves:
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Last day. I'm ready to go home. As much as I love traveling, I miss my pack...dog, cat and of course, wife. Also, I feel as if I've been "skipping stones" with my money....just throwing it around to see what happens...Anyway, since my flight is not until later, Jeremy, Isaac, Ben and I will take a little drive to check out some scenery and then I'll drive to ABQ and start my way home...
I felt a little sentimental saying goodbye to Jeremy. While he technically moved away from Cleveland two weeks ago, I've spent nearly all of that time with him...so he really hadn't left. Today, as I was saying goodbye, it seemed strange to think that I wouldn't see my tall, serious, good-natured, vegetarian friend around anymore. I greatly admire him as he is a deeply committed musician who is always pushing to experience new things. I'll be seeing him in November in NYC where I'll be recording/collaborating with some other projects. It seems that while we'll be living in different parts of the country, we'll continue developing our work together and make these small tours more often.
Had fun with the kids. Here's our rock star pose...
I felt a little sentimental saying goodbye to Jeremy. While he technically moved away from Cleveland two weeks ago, I've spent nearly all of that time with him...so he really hadn't left. Today, as I was saying goodbye, it seemed strange to think that I wouldn't see my tall, serious, good-natured, vegetarian friend around anymore. I greatly admire him as he is a deeply committed musician who is always pushing to experience new things. I'll be seeing him in November in NYC where I'll be recording/collaborating with some other projects. It seems that while we'll be living in different parts of the country, we'll continue developing our work together and make these small tours more often.
Had fun with the kids. Here's our rock star pose...
Monday, October 10, 2005
The performance last night at the High Mayhem Festival(Santa Fe, New Mexico) was pretty good. Because we had more time than at the NWEAMO Festival, we were able to do a couple of other pieces. These were a little ragged (due to lack of rehearsal) but never-the-less, seemed to go over well. We closed with eftah, the piece we've been playing a lot and it was by far the best performance yet. Jeremy and I are starting to get to that next layer of performance chemistry that only comes from repetition. Things are going to be different with him living in Arizona...we'll have to work long distance.
The High Mayhem Festival is really impressive. A three day event with about 30 musical/poetry acts, the organizers really do a great job of moving things along. This is not affiliated with any universities...just some really dedicated people who work really hard all year to put this thing on. All of the music I heard was interesting and varied, from very "out" to "sort of out" to groove based. The sound technicians were all patient and helpful and there seemed to be no shortage of people around to help with moving and carrying things.
I met all kinds of cool people, some of them other artists and some just local folks just there to hang out and listen. Jeremy took the kids back to the hotel room (starting to fall asleep) about midnight but I stayed to the bitter end (3:30am).
There has been some really cool hangs. Jeremy's sister Andi and her husband Kevin were in town vacationing, so we had a few meals with them. They also came to the show so it was nice to have a little support...It was cool to have Isaac and Ben there as well, I'll miss seeing them. There was also a continued Cleveland-San Francisco hang as Last Chance for the Loneliest Kitten (Josh, Kurt and Ava) were also performing.
Today it's rainy and cold, so I'm just sitting in a coffee shop, checking my email and blogging. I sort of wanted to go hiking somewhere but the weather and very little sleep are keeping me firmly planted on my ass. Later, I'll go and wander about downtown Sante Fe's shops and galleries and look at all of the stuff I can't afford to buy.
The High Mayhem Festival is really impressive. A three day event with about 30 musical/poetry acts, the organizers really do a great job of moving things along. This is not affiliated with any universities...just some really dedicated people who work really hard all year to put this thing on. All of the music I heard was interesting and varied, from very "out" to "sort of out" to groove based. The sound technicians were all patient and helpful and there seemed to be no shortage of people around to help with moving and carrying things.
I met all kinds of cool people, some of them other artists and some just local folks just there to hang out and listen. Jeremy took the kids back to the hotel room (starting to fall asleep) about midnight but I stayed to the bitter end (3:30am).
There has been some really cool hangs. Jeremy's sister Andi and her husband Kevin were in town vacationing, so we had a few meals with them. They also came to the show so it was nice to have a little support...It was cool to have Isaac and Ben there as well, I'll miss seeing them. There was also a continued Cleveland-San Francisco hang as Last Chance for the Loneliest Kitten (Josh, Kurt and Ava) were also performing.
Today it's rainy and cold, so I'm just sitting in a coffee shop, checking my email and blogging. I sort of wanted to go hiking somewhere but the weather and very little sleep are keeping me firmly planted on my ass. Later, I'll go and wander about downtown Sante Fe's shops and galleries and look at all of the stuff I can't afford to buy.
Sunday, October 09, 2005
Played San Diego Friday night. Overall, the show was really strong. Our performance was pretty good. I had some weird computer issues that prevented me from doing a few things, but I think the piece came across well. The performance space was really nice. The stage was really wide (this is where the University orchestra performs) and the guys running the board were on the ball. In fact, all of the sound technicians that we have dealt with were very good. Here's a pic of jeremy warming up:
All of the pieces on the program were new to me. The Electric Hammer performed 3 works and as usual were slammin'! I had a really fun night out afterwards with everyone. So many cool folks. Jeremy stayed back at the room to sleep before his drive down to Bisbee, AZ and then on to Santa Fe. I rented a car so that he could take care of his affairs and pick up Isaac and Ben (his boys) and I could take my time driving across Arizona to Santa Fe where we will hook back up and play at the High Mayhem Festival.
The drive out of San Diego on I-8 is really stunning. The transition from tropical to desert is very subtle. Palm trees give way to rock and small cacti. Passing through the mountains(Cleveland National Forest...funny) about an hour east of the city, takes you up to some higher elevations that affords really nice views of all the surrounding areas including Mexico to the south. Here's a pic:
Arizona is just beautiful. Started getting into some beautiful desert valleys east of Yuma, Az. I was making really good time. Because of the spatial relationships of country this open, speed is deceiving. It was easy driving at 80-90 mph...it wasn't until I topped 100 mph that I felt like I was speeding...what fun. But making time wasn't really the point, so I kept stopping to take pictures and just generally experience the place. Temperature in the low 100s, maybe high 90s...not really too bad. I had the overwhelming urge to take all of my clothes off and dance around naked in the dry desert air...I didn't do this but I'm kind of regretting it now:) The colors around here are just spectacular, the sun slipping in and out of the clouds, constantly changing the perception of distance and texture. You almost need to just pick a spot, sit on the ground and hang out for hours. I took I-8 to I-10 just south of Phoenix where I picked up Rt. 79 (beautiful) to Rt. 60 East which would take me all the way to Soccoro, New Mexico. A long drive, but interesting and scenic.
Got into Santa Fe around 1am....tired. Drove about 850 miles today. Worth every moment. My only regret is that it got dark as I got into New Mexico. Almost all of the rooms were booked up due to "Balloon Festival". Finally found a Red Roof Inn. Jeremy and the kids stayed about an hour south. We'll hook up tomorrow.Here's a few pics:
All of the pieces on the program were new to me. The Electric Hammer performed 3 works and as usual were slammin'! I had a really fun night out afterwards with everyone. So many cool folks. Jeremy stayed back at the room to sleep before his drive down to Bisbee, AZ and then on to Santa Fe. I rented a car so that he could take care of his affairs and pick up Isaac and Ben (his boys) and I could take my time driving across Arizona to Santa Fe where we will hook back up and play at the High Mayhem Festival.
The drive out of San Diego on I-8 is really stunning. The transition from tropical to desert is very subtle. Palm trees give way to rock and small cacti. Passing through the mountains(Cleveland National Forest...funny) about an hour east of the city, takes you up to some higher elevations that affords really nice views of all the surrounding areas including Mexico to the south. Here's a pic:
Arizona is just beautiful. Started getting into some beautiful desert valleys east of Yuma, Az. I was making really good time. Because of the spatial relationships of country this open, speed is deceiving. It was easy driving at 80-90 mph...it wasn't until I topped 100 mph that I felt like I was speeding...what fun. But making time wasn't really the point, so I kept stopping to take pictures and just generally experience the place. Temperature in the low 100s, maybe high 90s...not really too bad. I had the overwhelming urge to take all of my clothes off and dance around naked in the dry desert air...I didn't do this but I'm kind of regretting it now:) The colors around here are just spectacular, the sun slipping in and out of the clouds, constantly changing the perception of distance and texture. You almost need to just pick a spot, sit on the ground and hang out for hours. I took I-8 to I-10 just south of Phoenix where I picked up Rt. 79 (beautiful) to Rt. 60 East which would take me all the way to Soccoro, New Mexico. A long drive, but interesting and scenic.
Got into Santa Fe around 1am....tired. Drove about 850 miles today. Worth every moment. My only regret is that it got dark as I got into New Mexico. Almost all of the rooms were booked up due to "Balloon Festival". Finally found a Red Roof Inn. Jeremy and the kids stayed about an hour south. We'll hook up tomorrow.Here's a few pics:
Friday, October 07, 2005
Drove from San Francisco down to San Diego last night. Really hated to leave. That city is just awesome. MUST RETURN SOON! This trip would have been more amazing except for the fact that we didn't get out of SF until about 2pm...we were just lingering a bit...by the time we got to Santa Cruz, the rush hour traffic was totally gridlocked. To compound this, Jeremy went on a fruitless 1hr excursion to find a T-Mobile store so he could fix his phone. I just waited in a coffee house...apparently, the address he was looking for did not exist. A Grand waste of daylight...By the time we got to Big Sur...darkness. When I was younger, I would have spent this moment being mad and pouty because something didn't work out, but we just pulled the car over near a treacherous cliff, turned the lights out and sat outside looking out over the ocean at a beautiful yellow fingernail moon and a sky full of bright, clear stars. I've seen a lot of great starry nights, but I've never seen them looking over an ocean cliff. Really special. Here's a few pics:
"A Man Called Jeremy"
Jeremy was really sleepy, so I drove the rest of the night down 101 south through Los Angeles to San Diego. Los Angeles is just an urban disaster...just never-ending sprawl. But it's still kind of interesting reading all of the signs with well-known places and streets, We got into SD around 4AM. I just drank a bunch of coffee and listened to news/talk radio...viva la "Coast to Coast".
Right now I'm sitting on stage at San Diego State University getting ready to sound check. Looks to be a good show tonight. Several of the groups are not familiar to me.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Today was tourist day. Took the streetcar to where Jeremy's friend Michael works (architect), walked back to his place, then we went out and had some delicious Ethiopian food and beers in the lower Haight. This part of the city has some really beautiful old houses. The food is really good here. A lot of affordable choices.
Tomorrow we get back into the Volvo and head towards San Diego. We are going to try and stop in L.A. and say hello to a couple of friends...but the traffic will be gawdy so who knows if that will work.
Tomorrow we get back into the Volvo and head towards San Diego. We are going to try and stop in L.A. and say hello to a couple of friends...but the traffic will be gawdy so who knows if that will work.
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Got to San Francisco today. The weather was really clear so coming into the city via the Golden Gate bridge was really spectacular. This city is so beautiful. The mountains, the architecture, the ocean...the way that the houses just sort of fold into the hills, seems very mediterranean. We are staying with Scott Barkan(Barky) in the Sunset neighborhood about 3 blocks from the ocean.
We performed tonight at a nice coffee house, opening for singer/songwriter Kevin McCarthy. It was a really fun gig. Afterwards, we had tleveland hang consisting of: Myself, Jeremy Bleich, Scott Barkan, Kevin McCarthy and Kurt Kotheimer. Very cool...kind of surreal. Not sure which deserves more attention, the fact that so many Cleveland musicians are living here or that so many of them have left Cleveland...
We performed tonight at a nice coffee house, opening for singer/songwriter Kevin McCarthy. It was a really fun gig. Afterwards, we had tleveland hang consisting of: Myself, Jeremy Bleich, Scott Barkan, Kevin McCarthy and Kurt Kotheimer. Very cool...kind of surreal. Not sure which deserves more attention, the fact that so many Cleveland musicians are living here or that so many of them have left Cleveland...
Monday, October 03, 2005
Stayed in a little coastal town in Oregon last night. Jeremy and I tried very hard to find a bar/pub to find some food and drink but sunday night was just not happening. So, we grabbed some tortilla chips, green salsa, cottage cheese and an avacado, went back to the hotel room and watched I Robot....not a good movie.
Continued back down the coast. Got into California around noon. Went through some amazing stands of Redwoods. Rounding a bend, we ran into this:
I love the genital detail on Babe...it really makes a bad sculpture interesting...
We're staying in a little California town tonight (Garberville?)...nothing whatsoever happening here. We'll just go to bed and get going early.
Continued back down the coast. Got into California around noon. Went through some amazing stands of Redwoods. Rounding a bend, we ran into this:
I love the genital detail on Babe...it really makes a bad sculpture interesting...
We're staying in a little California town tonight (Garberville?)...nothing whatsoever happening here. We'll just go to bed and get going early.
Left Portland today. The drive down the Oregon coast is spectacular. There are tons of drive thru espresso bars...most likely to help folks through the rainy, dreary weather. Jeremy and I got pulled over by police 4 times. Let me repeat that: 4 times. Why? Because Jeremy's Volvo is missing a tailight and license plate light. Amazing. The police were very cool though...they got one look at our packed car and figured we had enough to deal with (by the way, for those who don't know, Jeremy is also moving on this trip to Bisbee, Arizona,,,hence all of the personal possesions)...
Check out this scene:
Anyway, here's a couple of beautiful pics of the Oregon coast. This place definitely deserves another visit.
Check out this scene:
Anyway, here's a couple of beautiful pics of the Oregon coast. This place definitely deserves another visit.
Saturday, October 01, 2005
Today was amazing. Jeremy went to visit one of his long-time friends, so I decided to spend the day walking around Portland, riding the awesome streetcars, and just having a chill day to myself. As I was walking down the street, I saw a guy(Justin) I met on the plane ride out there. We had chatted quite a bit about travel etc.. Anyways, he was out walking with his friend Randi with whom he was staying with, and they invited me to hang out with them. I ended up spending the entire day with them! Randi just moved out there herself about 2 months prior but she seemed to know the city well, so first we walked to a nice little street fair where I bought a nice little bamboo flute ($15), then we took a train across the river to the South East side. It was a really cool strip with all kinds of shops, restaurants and cafes. After that, we went and hung out for awhile at her apartment. From there I took the streetcar(free) down to Portland State University to hear the Saturday night NWEAMO concert. I am so glad I ran into those guys today. I enjoy walking around towns by myself but having some fun people to hang out with was really great. Here's a pic:
Friday, September 30, 2005
9/30
The show tonight in Portland was OK. Attendance was nowhere near that of Mexico City. On the positive side, I think we were a little more aggressive in our performance, which seemed to get a good reaction from those in attendance. Jeremy's friend Ben Dewey(recently relocated from Cleveland) came out and so we had a great hang afterwards at a place called Doug Fir. Very happening place. Again, Portland is very nice.
Soundchecking:
The show tonight in Portland was OK. Attendance was nowhere near that of Mexico City. On the positive side, I think we were a little more aggressive in our performance, which seemed to get a good reaction from those in attendance. Jeremy's friend Ben Dewey(recently relocated from Cleveland) came out and so we had a great hang afterwards at a place called Doug Fir. Very happening place. Again, Portland is very nice.
Soundchecking:
Just got into Portland, Oregon today. Jeremy Bleich and I perform tomorrow with the NWEAMO festival. I took an early flight (6:30 am) to Houston and then on to Portland. All told, about 8hrs travel time. I figured if I could get here earlier, I would have some time to check out the town a bit. Portland keeps coming up in conversation and reading as a really live-able city with great public transportation. Since this is precisely what Cleveland is lacking, I've always been very interested in spending a little time here. Anyways, I am always ambitious in my travel plans, idealizing my time management and basically underestimating the effects of air travel. I always feel like shite when I do this, today was no exception. A nightmarish headache greeted me near landing and stayed with me until I checked into my hotel and slept for three hours. So much for my afternoon! Is it a sign of stupidity when one doesn't learn from their own mistakes? I think I know the answer already...
My hotel is pretty cool (The Mark Spencer Hotel). I have a studio efficiency ($82) with a stove, sink and refridgerator. Granted, everything is decorated circa 1962...but I kind of like it.
I've walked around the town a bit, had a couple meals, coffee etc... My first impressions are very good. This seems like a really nice city. The streets are narrow, which sort of puts the emphasis on the pedestrian instead of the auto. The streets with the light rail train (MAX) don't have any autos at all, so the only thing between the train and the buildings is the sidewalk. The people seem friendly, except for the fruitbat bothering me in the coffee shop right now, and even he seems benevolent.
Jeremy just got into town...tired and bedraggled from a long, hurried drive from Cleveland...he left Tuesday morning from Cleveland and got here just now (11:15pm Pacific time). He's coming right now to the coffee shop where I'm at. Then I'll harass him for his bad planning. What can I say? Better him than me.
Tomorrow we have setup and sound check and then we perform in the evening. I'll check in tomorrow maybe with some pics.
My hotel is pretty cool (The Mark Spencer Hotel). I have a studio efficiency ($82) with a stove, sink and refridgerator. Granted, everything is decorated circa 1962...but I kind of like it.
I've walked around the town a bit, had a couple meals, coffee etc... My first impressions are very good. This seems like a really nice city. The streets are narrow, which sort of puts the emphasis on the pedestrian instead of the auto. The streets with the light rail train (MAX) don't have any autos at all, so the only thing between the train and the buildings is the sidewalk. The people seem friendly, except for the fruitbat bothering me in the coffee shop right now, and even he seems benevolent.
Jeremy just got into town...tired and bedraggled from a long, hurried drive from Cleveland...he left Tuesday morning from Cleveland and got here just now (11:15pm Pacific time). He's coming right now to the coffee shop where I'm at. Then I'll harass him for his bad planning. What can I say? Better him than me.
Tomorrow we have setup and sound check and then we perform in the evening. I'll check in tomorrow maybe with some pics.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Mexico City
Just got back from performing at the Festival Internacional de Musica y Nuevas Tecnologias: Visiones Sonoras in Mexico City. Jeremy Bleich (oud) and I were there as part of the NWEAMO festival, which will also take place this week in Portland, Oregon and next week in San Diego. From the start, things were very organized, with someone at the airport to meet us and drive us to our hotel. Mexico City is a gigantic labrynth of densely packed streets, so driving on our own would have been down right foolish. My wife Laura came along for the fun of it as well as taking pictures and generally helping us out.
Tuesday 9/20/05
Once we got settled into our room, Jeremy and I took a short walk around the general vicinity of the hotel. The air in Mexico City is bad at best....and you could feel it. As the 6th most populated city in the world (with everybody driving cars it seems), it's no wonder the air quality is poor. And with the exception of a few streets here and there, the city is engineered to accomodate the car, not pedestrians. That being said, the city is very exciting. Like any large city, it has its good and bad; squalor and filth, rich and beautiful, old and new. Most of the taxi were, oddly enough, green and white vintage Volkswagen Beetles...kind of surreal. I suppose if you want to own a vintage Beetle...that would be the place to get one. We went out to dinner that night in the San Angel area. A nice little cobblestone neighborhood with restaurants and shops. Unfortunately, we got there sort of late (especially for a weekday) and so many of them were closed. But we found a cool little place where the food was really good and affordable and the service was some of the best I've ever had...despite our one-year-old level Spanish.
Speaking of bad Spanish, I am determined to learn another language(Spanish probably makes the most sense). There's nothing worse than not being able to order food properly, express youself, be courteous, read signs etc...Most of the people we hung out with spoke decent English (many of them learn it in school when they are children), so except for the times we were out on our own, we had translators(special thanks to the sound guys Emiliano,Marten and Andres for driving us around and for taking us out for some delicious tacos)...
Wednesday 9/21/05
The day of the concert was long. We got there at 9am and didn't get back until about 10:30. Everything was really organized however, with all of us setting up and sound checking several hours before the performance. Jeremy got to give a little demonstration on the oud to some students. Although he resisted my suggestion, I got him to remove his thug-looking hoody sweatjacket before hand...The performance went very well. The room sounded so good that I didn't even use headphones. This is usually necessary for electro-acoustic performances(to separate the noise in the room from the noise in the music...)but the sound was mixed well, it wasn't too loud and the audience was quietly listening...amazing! What a difference performing in a recital hall as opposed to a rock club. All of the performances were different and interesting. Here's a pic:
Afterwards, a bunch of us hung out at the hotel bar drinking beer and tequila. Viva la Modela Negra!
Thursday 9/22/05
Thursday was tourist day. The three of us were feeling sluggish so we didn't get going until about noon...after we stuffed ourselves with the delicious breakfast buffet at the hotel...We wanted to ride the subway (something I always like to do in other cities)to save a little money on cab fare, but we had to get a ride to the last stop. La Metro looks like it was built in the 1970s, with lime-green seats in the cars and the proper urban patina. Subways are always filled with such an assortment of people. We saw everything from corporate types to farmers...and of course there was no shortage of people trying to sell stuff.
Our stop was Zocalo, a massive stone square with the metropolitan Cathedral at one end. The Cathedral, which replaced the Templo Mayor in 1572 " had the privilege of introducing new architectural styles that subsequently flourished throughout New Spain. Classic evolves into neoclassic and envelops the baroque play of style without detracting from it in any way." The reason it looks crooked in the photo is because it's been steadily sinking...I believe something like 12 feet in 25 yrs.
Next we went to the the Palacio de Bellas Artes (Palace of Fine Arts). The building houses performance of dance, music and theater as well as some the nation's great muralists(Diego Rivera,David Alfaro Siquieros,Jose Clemente Orozco and others. It also has some nice galleries dedicated to other Mexican artists. The opera hall was locked, which is a bummer because I heard it was spectacular. It was on this day I started to get a cold...nose running, sinus pain, sneezing...general misery, but what the hell, we were in Mexico City...onward! The reason this building looks crooked is beacause I took a bad picture of it...
We took a nice walk through a city park(Alameda Central),stopped at an amazing building with a giant inner courtyard. Whatever the place was, it is currently a cafe. We heard music from the street so we went in and behold! there was a band playing Beatles songs in Spanish...we had to stay.
After another subway ride, an interesting walk through a dense outdoor market, we caught a taxi to take us back to the hotel. Laura bailed on us and stayed back at the hotel while we went to check out the next nights performances. The group, The Electric Hammer performed several pieces by different composers. They consist of two guys on laptops and one percussionist. They were really amazing. We'll see them again in San Diego.
Friday 9/23
Homeward bound. Eventually. Our flight got delayed so we sat around the (smokey) airport sitting in front of our laptops (getting sicker),while the airline kept changing the time of our flight. We finally got out about 9pm. We arrived in Chicago about 1am. Of course our connecting flight to Cleveland was about 4hrs into history so they set us up in a nice hotel where we got about 3 hrs of sleep until we had to get up for our 6:45 flight...just lovely. Totally sick now. But thats what antibiotics are for right?
Overall, an amazing experience. Can't wait to go back. Met a lot of really nice, interesting folks. Next comes Portland, Oregon...
Just got back from performing at the Festival Internacional de Musica y Nuevas Tecnologias: Visiones Sonoras in Mexico City. Jeremy Bleich (oud) and I were there as part of the NWEAMO festival, which will also take place this week in Portland, Oregon and next week in San Diego. From the start, things were very organized, with someone at the airport to meet us and drive us to our hotel. Mexico City is a gigantic labrynth of densely packed streets, so driving on our own would have been down right foolish. My wife Laura came along for the fun of it as well as taking pictures and generally helping us out.
Tuesday 9/20/05
Once we got settled into our room, Jeremy and I took a short walk around the general vicinity of the hotel. The air in Mexico City is bad at best....and you could feel it. As the 6th most populated city in the world (with everybody driving cars it seems), it's no wonder the air quality is poor. And with the exception of a few streets here and there, the city is engineered to accomodate the car, not pedestrians. That being said, the city is very exciting. Like any large city, it has its good and bad; squalor and filth, rich and beautiful, old and new. Most of the taxi were, oddly enough, green and white vintage Volkswagen Beetles...kind of surreal. I suppose if you want to own a vintage Beetle...that would be the place to get one. We went out to dinner that night in the San Angel area. A nice little cobblestone neighborhood with restaurants and shops. Unfortunately, we got there sort of late (especially for a weekday) and so many of them were closed. But we found a cool little place where the food was really good and affordable and the service was some of the best I've ever had...despite our one-year-old level Spanish.
Speaking of bad Spanish, I am determined to learn another language(Spanish probably makes the most sense). There's nothing worse than not being able to order food properly, express youself, be courteous, read signs etc...Most of the people we hung out with spoke decent English (many of them learn it in school when they are children), so except for the times we were out on our own, we had translators(special thanks to the sound guys Emiliano,Marten and Andres for driving us around and for taking us out for some delicious tacos)...
Wednesday 9/21/05
The day of the concert was long. We got there at 9am and didn't get back until about 10:30. Everything was really organized however, with all of us setting up and sound checking several hours before the performance. Jeremy got to give a little demonstration on the oud to some students. Although he resisted my suggestion, I got him to remove his thug-looking hoody sweatjacket before hand...The performance went very well. The room sounded so good that I didn't even use headphones. This is usually necessary for electro-acoustic performances(to separate the noise in the room from the noise in the music...)but the sound was mixed well, it wasn't too loud and the audience was quietly listening...amazing! What a difference performing in a recital hall as opposed to a rock club. All of the performances were different and interesting. Here's a pic:
Afterwards, a bunch of us hung out at the hotel bar drinking beer and tequila. Viva la Modela Negra!
Thursday 9/22/05
Thursday was tourist day. The three of us were feeling sluggish so we didn't get going until about noon...after we stuffed ourselves with the delicious breakfast buffet at the hotel...We wanted to ride the subway (something I always like to do in other cities)to save a little money on cab fare, but we had to get a ride to the last stop. La Metro looks like it was built in the 1970s, with lime-green seats in the cars and the proper urban patina. Subways are always filled with such an assortment of people. We saw everything from corporate types to farmers...and of course there was no shortage of people trying to sell stuff.
Our stop was Zocalo, a massive stone square with the metropolitan Cathedral at one end. The Cathedral, which replaced the Templo Mayor in 1572 " had the privilege of introducing new architectural styles that subsequently flourished throughout New Spain. Classic evolves into neoclassic and envelops the baroque play of style without detracting from it in any way." The reason it looks crooked in the photo is because it's been steadily sinking...I believe something like 12 feet in 25 yrs.
Next we went to the the Palacio de Bellas Artes (Palace of Fine Arts). The building houses performance of dance, music and theater as well as some the nation's great muralists(Diego Rivera,David Alfaro Siquieros,Jose Clemente Orozco and others. It also has some nice galleries dedicated to other Mexican artists. The opera hall was locked, which is a bummer because I heard it was spectacular. It was on this day I started to get a cold...nose running, sinus pain, sneezing...general misery, but what the hell, we were in Mexico City...onward! The reason this building looks crooked is beacause I took a bad picture of it...
We took a nice walk through a city park(Alameda Central),stopped at an amazing building with a giant inner courtyard. Whatever the place was, it is currently a cafe. We heard music from the street so we went in and behold! there was a band playing Beatles songs in Spanish...we had to stay.
After another subway ride, an interesting walk through a dense outdoor market, we caught a taxi to take us back to the hotel. Laura bailed on us and stayed back at the hotel while we went to check out the next nights performances. The group, The Electric Hammer performed several pieces by different composers. They consist of two guys on laptops and one percussionist. They were really amazing. We'll see them again in San Diego.
Friday 9/23
Homeward bound. Eventually. Our flight got delayed so we sat around the (smokey) airport sitting in front of our laptops (getting sicker),while the airline kept changing the time of our flight. We finally got out about 9pm. We arrived in Chicago about 1am. Of course our connecting flight to Cleveland was about 4hrs into history so they set us up in a nice hotel where we got about 3 hrs of sleep until we had to get up for our 6:45 flight...just lovely. Totally sick now. But thats what antibiotics are for right?
Overall, an amazing experience. Can't wait to go back. Met a lot of really nice, interesting folks. Next comes Portland, Oregon...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
