Don’t be afraid to be confused. Try to remain permanently confused. Anything is possible. Stay open, forever, so open it hurts, and then open up some more, until the day you die, world without end, amen.
George Saunders

Sunday, March 1, 2015


It's been a week of reconnecting, a weeknight show with a long-time friend--THEESatisfaction's new album!--dinner another night with another good pal. It feels good.
It's all ebb and flow. I'm down for some flow.
Gifted Gab was the opener, and boy can this girl spit. I'm a fan. Here's her bandcamp.

Saturday, February 21, 2015

the vibe

A weird run today. After spending a day indoors yesterday--completely worn out and fighting a bug--I ran the long route today, a brisk, windy morning. At Starbucks, a cluster of cars trying to get into the drive-thru, and an empty parking lot. I ran into the street, dodging the ginormous SUV blocking the sidewalk. The panhandler who's usually by the exit gave me a "whaddya gonna do" shrug and I said Guess he needs his coffee and we laughed and he half-screamed It's urgent! Farther along, 2 pedestrians, one apparently on the phone but said Hi, another puffing on a Swisher Sweet and called How ya doing.
Next, a dead rat flopped on the path, which I jumped over, last minute. Then, towards the end, I passed a flushed-looking female runner coming the other direction. Next thing, she's running past me, apparently having U-turned and turned on the afterburners. Sprinted past me, and then stopped a few yards later. It's infuriating to be used to clock some lame ass's run. I wanted to clock something, all right.
Now--coffee and words.

Saturday, February 14, 2015


Bittersweet is great for chocolate but tough on the heart. Missing my momash today.
Eleven years since I kissed her goodbye for the last time.
At the coffee shop today I picked up a heart-n-hatchet cookie.
Seems appropriate for this conflicted kind of day.

Thursday, February 12, 2015

thinkng about movng... Tumblr--it's so easy to reblog and seems more now.
Blogger feels so 1992. The cool kids left ages ago which I don't care about but maybe I do, since I'm mentioning it?
On the other hand, I've seen a few Myspace pages recently. Huh.
Or possibly a Facebook persona page.
I dunno. I'm thinking about it though.

Sunday, February 8, 2015


I saw a great deal of the western part of the state this weekend, from a fun workday Friday in Mineral--overalls, face masks and paint rollers--to the peninsula interior for coffee, a pub visit and a squishy inspection of beachfront property, and finally out to my place, to check in, clean up, and breath spectacularly clean air.
The photos are from my first stop.

Saturday, January 31, 2015

well anyway

I'm feeling abandoned and unimportant.
There's no one to discuss this with. How would I even start?
Which leads to, I'm feeling mad at myself for not doing the things I know I love so that the first thing doesn't matter so much. So, enough of the Pity Partie and onwards to photos, music, people, writing, creating, laughs, art, and the night.
Re-reading the biography of Edna St. Vincent Millay, I wish the author wasn't so coyly trying to understand-slash-explain ESVM's dichotomies. Why couldn't she be passionate and an addict and wildly creative and loving and cruel, a terrific and terrible spouse, a woman known widely and not at all? Hello, almost every male writer evar. The sexist double standard endures, no, it flourishes.

Friday, January 30, 2015

Re Cap

I wore my Seahawks beanie in New York City a couple of Sundays ago, before, during and after the championship game versus the Packers. You want to talk disbelieving, unbridled joy? That was us during the final few minutes, a gang of out-of-towners and New Yorkers, having taken over an Irish pub in Williamsburg that didn't take credit cards, reluctantly changed the channel on one TV to the game, and didn't even want to turn up the sound. By the time we left, there was football on all 3 TVs, blaring sound, high-fiving and much giddiness. That hat was my ticket to fist bumps, cheerful yells, and more than one whiskey shot.
The trip alternated between intense busy-ness and suburban boredom. We hit the city fresh off the Jetblue redeye on a twenty-degree weekend morning, introduced my niece to the NYC subway courtesy of a napping homeless guy, the seat of his pants blown out with poop or what looked like poop. Coffee and bagels at The Bean, a quick freshening-up at my cuz's place in the East Village, and then off to the Staten Island Ferry, where the freezing breeze stiffened our grins into grimaces, but we sailed past the Statue of Liberty twice, gratis! Next, warm-up, lunch and bloody marys on Stone Street, then a wander through the World Trade Center site. Thirty minutes at Century 21 was time enough to examine some three thousand dollar gowns and set out for TKTS, in a futile quest for show tickets. Finally, we slowed down enough to nap, then had a delicious Italian dinner at Spina, strange and   delicious desserts at Momofuku Milk Bar, and then the next several hours roaming the lights at Times Square, us and a million tourists and a forlorn Cookie Monster staring up at a Jumbo-Tron.
Sunday: rain. I made a damp jaunt to Tompkins Square Bagels for breakfast, then we schlepped uptown to check out Dylan's. Our attempt at Central Park failed, due to extreme wetness, sleet, and sloshing shoes, so we abandoned ship and went to the Plaza food court, for Payard macarons, local coffee and pastries. Then it was time to dump our stuff and head for the Irish sports bar! Later on, after another trip to a different Milk, we packed into an Uber SUV, grabbed up some bodega beer and snacks, and crashed a spectacular Brooklyn pad, with a killer view of the city, sorta watched the Pats/Colts blowout, drank and hung out and admired the city.
Monday, with little time left, again uptown to Ess-A Bagel, where elderly Abe regulated the line. Then onward to the Waldorf Astoria, where a buddy gave us the grand tour and we admired Frette sheets and the gloriously mismatched furniture in the penthouse suite. A quick stop at Uniqlo and then a cab to Grand Central, where we parted ways, some to JFK, another to Metro North, and me to a hotel on 39th St.
I saw friends for the next day, met a pal from Zambia days in Chinatown, hung out with my cuz on the LES, lunch with a lovely lady in Midtown the next day, and a hangout at the aptly named Coffee Shop in Union Square the next afternoon. Then, sadly, time to head to the 'burbs, I stocked up on whisky and snacks and found a quiet seat on a Connecticut-bound train.