ok. good.

something

2011-08-03T22:12:00.004-04:00

it is one of those nights. maybe you know what i'm talking about. i guess it doesn't matter one way or the other. this is one of those nights. the lights are out, the computer is on and it is quiet.

but not really that quiet.

there is the light drone of the fan the upstairs neighbor has placed on the floor of his unit. the refrigerator has just come to life, so there is that sound. an air conditioning unit, 3 houses up the street is laboring to cool a small bedroom on a night when the windows should be open. a couple walking outside my window is discussing the quality of a Beatles cover band. it was agreed that they do a pretty good job.

there are hundreds of cars combusting down the freeway. miles away, but not the sound.

the modem lights are oscillating. they are silent, but the motion is making me think of chimes, or ice cracking on trees after a mid-january storm.

and then there is my mind, a mind that Alan Michael Parker wrote . . .

Oh, how i hate my mind,

all those memories

that have invented their own memories.

except i'm not thinking about what happened, but what might.

ok. good.

little memories

2011-03-29T10:38:00.004-04:00

it isn't complicated. there are many things that trigger the synapses. that bring the experiences and moments of your life back into your present consciousness. many people just let them come, wash over and flow away. others hold on to them for a long time, clutch them close, caress them and even cry all over them. the best of us know just what they mean. we put the memories in their proper place and grab them when necessary. the most amazing of us actually learn from these moments and turn them into work that instructs and inspires others. i don't know what will happen yet with mine. lets hope for something. ok. good.

little memories, marching on
your little feet, working the machine
will it spin, will it soar
my little dream, working the machine

gorillaz_empire ants_featuring little dragon

remember

2010-11-14T00:05:00.004-05:00

i remember when it all happened, and the way that it all came together so seamlessly, how could it have not been right? i was doing my usual tour of the neighborhood, looking for that woman who shared all my interests, but knowing that only one or possibly two might actually be met.

there was an open garage so of course i walked right in, and walked right into my destiny and reason for living. sure, so there was a t-square, so she liked design or architecture, or at least some form of technical drawing. we all know how hot that is. but then my eyes kept scanning and my mind started speeding and my fingers started tapping against each other evil villain style as the whole scene went through the cornea over the retina and into the brain.

a book on ninjas, and a guide to karate shared the shelf with the best book ever written: "snakes, the keeper and the kept." a global best seller for 173 weeks, it was rumored to be on Liberace's bedside table on the night of his death, and served as the white paper for the korean armistice agreement. I think we can all see that this woman, the owner of these books, could seriously make anyone happy.

points were scored of course with the hot bike magazine and stooge poster, but it wasn't until my eye carefully spied paul stamets' famed guide to psilocybe mushrooms that i realized that love was possible between two humans.

i continued to stare at this array of all the things i loved, basically looking into the heart of the woman i knew i would cherish for the rest of my life. and even when she finally came to me and introduced herself, showering my eyes with the most powerful mace available outside of law enforcement and caressing my kneecaps with a steel bar that can only be described as the embodiment of devotion and compassion, i still didn't believe it could be true. sometimes love finds you just when you least expect it. at least, that is what they say.

that was a special day.

listen

2010-07-24T23:31:00.003-04:00

hi. i have this thing that i do every time i fly. i look at and listen to the flight attendants when they do their security machinations before takeoff. i call them machinations, because many times it feels just like that. the entire process often has the air of "you know how to buckle, read and breathe and put on the mask before others and top off the air in the life jacket with these phallic tubes. and i know that you know how to do all those things, which is why i fake put on the oxygen mask because i don't want those stinking elastic bands getting caught in my hair, as i'm meeting my philadelphia affair at the airport marriott when we land."

however, i still give the flight attendants my full attention. it is one of my flight rituals. we'll talk about why the tray-table latch needs to be perfectly vertical another time (let's just say it improves aerodynamics.) For me, it makes that three minutes more bearable. i'd rather stare at them and hear the same information over and over again than see them up there going through the motions to a plane full of people utterly ignoring them.

yesterday, i was looking at the 50-something male flight attendant as he gave the demonstrations. we were 5 rows from each other, but he saw me looking at him. we held a gaze several times, and i could see that he understood that i was paying attention. all around, my fellow passengers were reading, checking messages (umm, excuse me, but the forward doors are closed), chatting with seat mates or trying to open the obsolete ashtrays that have either been glued or chewing-gummed shut. the briefing ended and he slowly wrapped up this faux seatbelt, oxygen mask and folded the safety card. as he walked past me to his station at the rear of the aircraft, he reached out and patted me on the shoulder 3 times. pat pat pat.

maybe he was glad that someone gave him some respect. perhaps he thought i was a first time flyer and took in every word so as to survive our impending doom. maybe he wanted me at the airport marriott, i don't know.

we took off and he served me the sprite i asked for.

ok.

how are you

2010-07-18T22:51:00.002-04:00

hello. it has been some time. i have missed you. there are many things that i want to say to you. i will write you a note on a postcard. then i will give that postcard over to the good graces of the United States Postal System. At that point, space and time are folded. the Spice is injected into magic tubes, Kyle Maclachlan rides a giant worm and shouts at people. those people blow up. the universe is at peace and it rains in the desert. sorry, i was thinking about Dune and david lynch. anyway, my postcard will arrive and you will know how i feel about you. perhaps you would like to have some of these postcards? ok. good.

http://www.etsy.com/shop/adamcohn249

ok.

2010-07-15T10:57:00.003-04:00

When can we get together again?
Nevermind, I've lost you
How can I tell if I love you anymore
Nevermind, I know I do
Call you closer to my arms
You'll feel better when you're warm
Do you like it when you leave your house?
Do you like it when you're in a town?
That you love
Like one I live in
Like one I live in

It's my body's plan

I feel another
Timer
Will my love
Slow down

It's my body's plan

Make another telephone call
Think of you and me

talamak_toro y moi

thoughts

2010-04-24T23:47:00.004-04:00

i've thought about you. here, in the water, with the constant fizzing of carbon filled oxygen pumping into my crystalline chamber driving me slowly into a state or insanity, or deliciousness. that's right. i understand what is going on and i know that i am delicious. hell, i'm scrumptious, and that word isn't even used much anymore, so i'm wise and well-read also. damn. maybe you'd like to to put me in a bisque. what the hell is a bisque? yes, we all know you are very fancy and cultured, but it's cream and seafood. people in new england call it a chowder, but i guess there is someone out there right now saying, "what the fuck is a chowder?" i'm sure that one of you will smother me in butter. smother. maybe it's the hunter instinct in your species to feel as if you've killed your meal, but i've never understood the allure of food that is smothered in a sauce or with cheese. smothering means killing. raise your fork to the sky and grunt and get it over with. whatever you do, try to eat me at a local restaurant. don't cheapen our relationship by going to red lobster. you're only going there with the hopes that they'll open an olive garden next year. that is so wrong. ok. good.

reminder

2010-04-14T10:03:00.002-04:00

a friend brought this paragraph back to me . . . from the diary. ok.

"we're all alive, but we don't know why or what for; we're all searching for happiness; we're all leading lives that are different and yet the same. we three have been raised in good families, we have the opportunity to get an education and make something of ourselves. we have many reasons to hope for great happiness, but . . . we have to earn it. and that's something you can't achieve by taking the easy way out. earning happiness means doing good and working, not speculating and being lazy. laziness may look inviting, but only work give you true satisfaction."

2010-01-01T00:56:00.002-05:00

hello.

it has been some time since i have poured it all out on here. there are many reasons for this, and i'm not going to go into all of them now. i think the winter of 2008-2009 may have been the most miserable time in my life. i learned a lot about life, a lot about love and a lot about friendship. i spent a lot of time thinking about honesty. most of this came in the form of openness in relationships, and lessons about what happens when this is not the case.

right now, i'm in a bedroom in my parents finished basement. my two kids are asleep on a sofa bed around the corner, and i'm finishing my third glass of champagne. it's after 1pm and the cringing over Dick Clark's verbal delivery, or disgust for Ryan Seacrest's canned excitement, or urge to buy Nivea Brand Products has faded away and it is just me, my brain, the laptop and the beginning of 2010.

this beginning feels nice though.

imagine that you are walking in some impossibly pristine meadow, and it is late. it is this time, and the blue moon forecasted has actually happened and you are walking up a slow rise to the crest of a hill. to those who know what the hell i am talking about, it is Valley Forge Park pristine. at the crest, the rest of the hill, the valley, the forest and in the far distance, the city awaits. this is what is happening now. this is what is in-store for 2010. peace, calm, beauty and if wanted, the lights.

at least, this is what i want.

to those who know, to those who know me, i love you.

ok. good.

well, umm . . .

2009-11-17T19:26:00.007-05:00

hello.

_ hello.

how are things going? i only ask because it has been some time since we have spoken, and i imagined in my mind that there were some things that may be going. that is to say, events in your life perhaps have moved to a place where they were not at the moment of our last conversation.

_ you are correct. things have happened to me since we last spoke.

and . . .?

_ i am debating whether i will tell you about them. i have serious doubts that you even remember who i am, and even more serious doubts that you remember who you are. these doubts then create additional mistrust that you will retain the information that you are asking me to impart at this moment.

so . . . hmm. i love you and can't stop thinking about you. does this help?

_ of course. i've been involved in several professions since our last meeting. i have several occupations and interests. they are, in no particular order . . .

1. a staff singer at a college radio station in north andover massachusetts. i sing station break call letters, promotions for visiting musicians, class schedule changes and announcements for ice cream socials, biology seminars and hoagie sale fundraisers.

2. mattress sale sign holder.

3. waterer of plants in corporate office park spaces.

4. constructor of white and kraft paper bags. specifically, the 25# shorty super strength beer bag.

5. Donny Osmond. just to be clear. i am not working for Donny Osmond. i am Donny Osmond. i thought that it was time that you know this.

thank you for answering my question. i feel that i have a better grasp of who you are, what you are doing and what you are capable of achieving. your response has certainly fulfilled the desire of my query "how are things going?" now i know. thank you. also, i don't really love you. i am sorry for tricking you in that way.

_you're welcome. and i know you don't love me. i just like talking about myself.

ok. good.

move on.

2009-11-15T23:11:00.003-05:00

when i took this photo, i wasn't really sure that there was anything else to say. i am always looking for textures. i'm looking for textures that tell different stories at different distances. form is different at 2 feet and 2000 feet. remember that magazine, "world" by national geographic i think. there was a feature in the back called "what in the world?" that showed a close-up of some animal or natural phenomena, and the following issue would reveal the answer.

in some ways, this photo is the fountainhead. it is howard roark vs peter keating. it is the answer to every colonial revival house in america with fake plastic shutters next to windows with fake mullions. it is the NAPA autoparts car with a hat on top of the cab. A HAT ON TOP OF THE CAB. it is a laptop computer with music player buttons as part of the hardware.

it is wheel of fortune continuing as a game show.

ok. good.

i mean, really. really?

2009-11-15T21:55:00.002-05:00

hello. i have a small problem with something that you did last night. the funny thing about it is, we've talked about it many times, and nothing changes. i'm tempted to ask you "how many times have we talked about operating the AN/PDR 65 while the radars are in operation?" but i know that i'll get the same answer i always get. "i don't know" or "three million times." i'm not even asking you to stop operation of the GS/FU 75, or your personal favorite, the AN/PDR 64 (i'll never understand why you have not upgraded to the AN/PDR 65 permanently, it is far superior to the 64.) yes, yes, yes, i know the 65 has one small hang-up. you can't operate it when the radars are in operation. but really, how often are the radars in operation? certainly not enough to warrant an unauthorized operation of the AN/PDR 65. a little patience is really all that is required.

anyway, moving on. i hope you are well, and that we'll see you at thanksgiving this year. grandmother will be baking up a storm as usual. ok. good.

and . . . action

2009-11-01T21:04:00.004-05:00

i was riding the train to boston from newburyport massachusetts. on a friday night. i barely made it in time and forgot to bring anything to read. the blackberry was on 2 bars of battery life and i needed to make some calls later. so i put it in my pocket and stared out at the tail end of the day that was receding behind the trees made evil due to lack of leaves. the conductor sat diagonally from me with a copy of the Herald and pen for the crossword. he kept getting up to call the stations and i desperately wanted to fill in some answers. rowley, ipswich passed, and i was getting bored. we came to hamilton and everything changed.

a woman got on and sat where the conductor had previously been. she was about 45 or 50 years old, looking a bit tired and haggard. she wore some obscure brand of athletic jumpsuit that had half-gloves at the end of the sleeves. it was navy blue with neon green stripes and accents. she wore beat canvas tretorn sneakers with a pink logo. her auburn hair was tied in the back of her head in some sort of victorian bun. what happened next was nothing less than mezmerizing.

it was another 30 minutes to boston. in that time, she literally put on her face. we've all heard that phrase "i need to put my face on." or "face that she keeps in the jar by the door, who is it for?" this woman unrolled a tool kit of mascara, eyeliners, powders, wrinkle creams and lipsticks went to town on her face for 30 minutes. she attacked it. in between applications she sent text messages, took phone calls and adjusted her sports bra. she explained to her friend that "steve" had called at the last minute and asked her to the celtics game. this woman threw on a body-tight track suit, beat up tretorns and ran out the door to meet steve, knowing full well she would have 30 minutes to apply her mask before reaching north station and the famed boston garden. there, she would meet steve, who would spend the next 2-3 hours staring at 10 men run the court, while the woman in the mask sat next to him.

i really became attached to this woman, and her process. i started out stealing looks at her via the reflection in my window, but near the end, i was flat-out staring at her. i don't think she ever even saw me, her eyes boring into her hand-mirror the entire time. holding it at different angles and making conversational expressions into it. i believe she covered every known emotion with her face to make sure that her makeup would withstand any reaction. and it did.

we reached north station and i walked out of the train behind her. i really wanted to tap her on the shoulder and wish her good luck. good luck with steve. knock him dead.

but i didn't. ok.

perception

2009-10-27T22:28:00.003-04:00

i heard a fascinating conversation on NPR a few days ago regarding the need for religion. the main point stated that religion was created to explain things humans couldn't understand. we now understand more, so the need for religion to provide explanations has expired. of course, this does not address faith. you can still have that, if you like. ok.

call me

2009-10-05T17:45:00.002-04:00

hello. my name is 1977, and i miss you. it has been some time since we have spoken. perhaps you have forgotten me, or at least forgotten my number. maybe you've moved on to another year, one that has different numbers, larger numbers or prime numbers. 1753, there is a good year, with prime numbers, ahhh, 1753. sorry, i digress. anyway, 1977 here is saying that i would love to hear from you. just use this handy device to look up my number. i think it is still in there. ok.

happy birthday

2009-09-09T07:38:00.002-04:00

this may be the most perfect combination of items i have ever had the chance to witness. as you can see, it is a mangled birthday cake sitting on what looks like a puddle of urine, and a pile of dog shit. think about the messages being sent here. an image of sweetness and fun times and laughter and presents and the surprise on the office manager's face when we presented the last cake in the market basket bakery case to her, combined with a pile of dog shit. a pile. i love the way that this is described. it isn't a mound or a collection. it isn't just "dog shit." it's too small to be a heap and too large to be "a touch." it is a pile. a pile of dog shit.

so, here we are. happy birthday to anyone who wants a half-eaten birthday cake sitting in a puddle of urine next to a pile of dog shit.

wait a minute. i just had a thought. what if this cake was for a dog. a dog's birthday. this cake was presented to a dog in honor of it's birthday. and what did that dog do? it was so excited it squatted down and began devouring that cake. and in that excitement, the dog took a piss and laid down that pile.

i think i like this vision better. this is what happened.

ok. good.

when we are afraid

2009-08-31T23:38:00.004-04:00

a few weeks ago, i was in columbus OH. near columbus, in Dayton, is the Museum of the United States Air Force. I did not know this, but was glad to find it out, as i had 2 kids to entertain for the day and this sort of thing is something they would enjoy. the museum is comprised of 3 massive hangars that contain military aircraft from 1918 to the present. a lot of scary material was on display, neutron and atom bombs, ballistic missles, and every type of fighter jet, bomber and combat craft created by the military powers of the world. the technology and the ingenuity and the overall design excellence was impressive, but as we continued to make our way through the hundreds of aircraft on display, one thought dominated me.

this is what happens when we are afraid. the motivational power of fear created some of the most advanced design and technology ever conceived. this is how humans work though. we don't bring our own bag to the grocery store because we are hopeful of getting a 5 cent credit, but i'm sure we'd bring them if we were afraid of getting charged 20 cents per bag. these theories about the power of fear are nothing new in psychological circles, but being in the presence of those planes, i felt their force. ok. good.

the situation

2009-08-28T00:33:00.002-04:00

this might just sum it all up. ok. good.

if you are interested . . .

2009-08-23T17:39:00.005-04:00

there some things that people say. some of those things are so formulaic that they have lost their meaning. there are some things that people want to say, but just don't understand how easy it should be to do so. i made posters of those things and here are a few pictures. not shown is the version that says "hi. let's be friends. ok." the ink is same as "hi. how are you doing. good." the posters are 26 x 40" and are silk-screened. not hand-pulled however, so the ink is less thick but has a cleaner finish. if you want one, they are $50. that includes USPS shipping in the US. you can email me at adamcohn249@gmail.com and we'll do a paypal thing. that is about as advanced as my ecom strategy is at this point. thanks for your interest. ok. good.

you know what you did . . .

2009-08-22T23:52:00.004-04:00

yes. do this. in the area. where is this, you may ask? it's the area. maintain silence there. it isn't that difficult. just do it. please just be quiet and everything will be ok. you shouldn't be talking or making sound anyway. the sign says to maintain silence. this implies that a state of silence should have already existed, and you are simply being asked to maintain that state. it is so easy, you didn't even have to do the hard part. someone else created the silence, all you have to do keep it going. what is so damn hard about that? here, let me break it down for you. you know that thing that is happening now, that silence? well, maintain it. keep doing it. don't stop the silence that already exists. ok, i think i've made myself clear. silence, stay. oh, and remember, this should happen in the area. ok.

shhh.

2009-08-13T11:14:00.003-04:00

be quiet, just for a moment. stop talking and stop the talking inside your head or your heart or wherever. give the people standing next you that look. the one that will shut them up. do this to the people walking towards you as well. everyone please just stop making noise and sounds. stop.

ok.

now think for a moment about the air conditioning units in this building. think about what one sounds like. good. now think about what they all sound like running simultaneously. imagine that some are brand new, and others are nixon administration new. if you are all being quiet like i asked, then the sound must be deafening. think about a sunny day, but you are getting rained on. you are walking in front of this building on the sidewalk. these units are raining on you.

is there a rainbow?

ok. good.

fantasymindland

2009-07-24T22:50:00.002-04:00

i was driving all night. i had decided to do this on the spur of the moment, and as many things that are decided upon in this way, once you get over the fear of the unknown and let go, a tremendous feeling of peace and reflection can occur.

i had recently quit my job as creative director. it was an utterly stupid situation. it was determined that a certain variation in the blue color of our toothpaste client's product was necessary, because the current hue no long symbolized the freshness the consumer came to expect from bullshit product x. i built an entire presentation to the client and their board of directors around this subtle color shift, but never actually changed the color. packaging was reprinted, style guides and corporate brand standards were created. no one noticed the color hadn't actually been changed for 18 months. last week, someone finally read the guide and at least 27 assistant associate deputy directors at our client's global headquarters shit the bed, within several minutes of one another. so, i grabbed 5 packs of post-its, 2 boxes of medium-size binder clips and a handful of sharpies (fine point) and quit before being fired.

so now i was driving all night, from washington DC to who gives a shit. i kept thinking about what a friend had said to me. she was talking about a place where all of the things she wanted to have and all of the lives she wanted to lead were happening. she called it her fantasymindland. holy shit. a fantasymindland. i think i was already there. i was floating down I-40 through tennessee, through the hills and past the ghosts of thousands of dead civil war soldiers and listening to modern ambient march song called sunday seance and i realized that one thousand feet above me some hawk or spy drone could see my headlights making their way along this isolated route and that i was there.

and i had all that i needed, at least it seemed so at the time. post-its, sharpies, binder clips and a fantasymindland to live in. ok.

maybe

2009-07-06T17:38:00.003-04:00

i don't know . . . do you? do you know what is next, or what is right? are you all just throwing it out there and seeing what happens, what sticks? are you so confident in what you are doing that your vision is laser-focused and nothing is getting in your way? i hope so. maybe mine will be someday. i'm getting there. ok.

the end of something

2009-06-09T16:25:00.002-04:00

Weren't you there when the carousel burned down
The fire and confusion, the smoke and the sound
I swear you were there when the carousel burned down
We were all around
The rings charred and tarnished all over the ground
And the heads hung down
And we all left town the next day

The children all cried when the carousel burned down
The old ladies sighed and the carousel burned down
The rest of us lied as the carousel burned down
And the flames did fly
The pipes steamed and shrieked out a blazing goodbye
As the boiler died
And they melted down the midway
And we all left town the next day

— Todd Rundgren

out of africa

2009-05-27T14:11:00.002-04:00

the dialogue below is from a scene near the end of the movie. meryl streep's character, isak denisen and robert redford's character, denys finch-hatton, and talking alone in isak's empty house. she is leaving africa. the two were together, but different ideas about relationships, commitment and love drove them apart. it is the first time they have seen each other, alone, in some time. he has asked to take her to mombasa, to start her journey back to denmark . . . isak says, reflecting on how much she has missed him:

I’ve got this little thing that I’ve learned to do lately.

When it gets so bad . . . and I think I can’t go on . . . I try to make it worse.

I make myself think about our camp on the river . . . and Berkeley . . . and the first time that you took me flying.

How good it all was.

And when I’m certain that I can’t stand it . . .

I go one moment more.

And then I know I can bear anything.

Would you like to help me?

Yes. (finch-hatton says.)

Come dance with me then.

2009-05-26T10:41:00.002-04:00

this painting is entitled, Hope, II. the artist is gustav klimt. i have been an admirer of his for years, and spent some time with this work in nyc last weekend. i learned that he often called the painting Vision. either way, i could use a little of both. ok.

i don't know . . .

2009-05-06T09:22:00.003-04:00

i don't know who you are anymore. it's like we are living on different planets. i'm on earth, and you are on blorgon 7, planning an invasion of my galaxy. well, i'm here to tell you that we will never be slaves, you can subjugate some other species to work in your blozillium mines. i realize that this may seem like some odd analogy as to how it is between us, and you are right. it's pretty fucked up. what the hell am i talking about? i think someone is turning a radio dial in my head, and different stations are popping up. all i know is, staring at you now, on these wide open plains, with mesas and cloud-shrouded mountains looming above us, i realize that my 401(k) is not working for me the way it should. i need to get a new financial advisor. well, that's not the only thing on my mind.
ok.
good.

cleanse

2009-04-27T13:47:00.002-04:00

i went to the beach for an hour yesterday. sunday. late afternoon. i find that this is the best time of day to be at the beach, for me. the sun was blasting through clouds and the coastline continued its slow erosion into the atlantic. it was so soothing. the white noise of the process has a way of focusing and centering and i became the stereotype of a human looking to the sea for inspiration, clarification and a destination. i found some clarity, and left the other two for another time. ok.

gulp

2009-04-19T22:51:00.004-04:00

so, about a year ago, i came across an amazing pelican paperback book cover in a second-hand shop in newburyport massachusetts. i had no idea what i was getting into. i used to collect zwarte beertje books from the netherlands. books illustrated by the famous dick bruna, of "miffy" or "nijntje" fame, but i was clueless about the pelican paperbacks. check out this link, phenomenal. these are two i found yesterday, i now have 4. more please. ok. good.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/acejet170/sets/72157600089984134/

i don't know.

2009-04-12T23:58:00.004-04:00

hi. this image pretty much sums it up. up, down, on, off, round and around. who the hell knows? i wish did . . .

ok.

lost in . . . wherever

2009-04-04T13:24:00.004-04:00

i was on a flight from boston to hong kong, via newark. an 1100 am flight from boston turned into a 530 pm wheels up, and then we didn't take off from newark until 800 pm. after 20 minutes in the air, a man in front and to the right of me started accosting the man behind him for touching the seat too much.

"i can feel you kicking the seat, can i get some sleep?"

— "i'm not kicking the seat."

"you may not think you are, but i can feel it. am i saying it right, am i speaking s-l-o-w-l-y enough?"

and so on and so on with both voices raised well above normal cabin chat. the kicker looked at me for some sort of support, i just shut my eyes.

on the flight, i watched "lost in translation" for the first time. amazing that i never saw it until now. i probably need to watch it again, but there were some parts that made an impression. of course, the end. what i appreciated most was the notion that, despite the entirety of their lives that they have to deal with, they could finally realize the importance of those moments shared. humans do not spend enough time understanding how significant connections can be. will they result in something much bigger? a friendship, a relationship, more? it doesn't really matter, but the experience needs to be recognized and social conventions need to be trashed.

taking a chance and having something happen, is far better than getting in a taxi and just going home.

ok. good.

these things are sung, these things are heard.

2009-03-30T02:12:00.003-04:00

blue line swinger_yo la tengo.

i didn't want to hear you, but then, there you were . . .

you,

you won't talk about

what we see when the lights are out

and i'm willing to hold your hand

while you're lost,

while you're so full of doubt

walk for miles, on your own loose ends,

i'll find you there

you,

you walk up thin blue lines

possible with reality

and i, i see through small red eyes,

glowing still at your uncertainty

out of the darkness you will come around,

i know you will

and i'll find you

and i'll find you there.

ok.

sunrise

2009-03-24T21:17:00.003-04:00

it happens every day. many days it is obscured by clouds. today, it wasn't. i think i'm at the beginning of something. i really haven't been properly in this place for a long, long time.

ok. good.

MSG FR U

2009-03-22T10:11:00.003-04:00

when i first started writing here, i was planning on making most of the posts about language, communication, perception and reality. it hasn't really turned out that way, but here is something that gets a bit closer. i walked past this basement window yesterday and happened to look down at it. funny how things work, but then i guess i am always out to see something inspirational. i just love the way that this is abbreviated, and the process that made it possible. there is probably some elaborate typographic system the company has, font size etc. etc. and it was JUST NOT POSSIBLE to have all words properly spelled out. or maybe, some young designer working there is slowly weaving a more "texting" based lexicon into the business. either way, i get the feeling this mayonnaise is infinitely better than extra heavy mayonnaise. good.

back

2009-03-18T17:19:00.002-04:00

hi. i'm going back to china in 2 weeks, to hong kong. i've been through that airport twice, but have never been in the city, ever. i don't think one should be able to say they have been somewhere if they have only stopped over in the airport. i haven't been in china since last september, and that is about all i can say.

ok. good.

awwwww

2009-03-11T20:08:00.000-04:00

the state of this sign over the past 2 months. i drove by it every morning on the way to work, and told myself i had to shoot it. i'm glad i finally did because now it is congratulating the local high school team for winning the state ice hockey tournament. in this photo, it pretty much sums up the winter. nothing going on. after the hockey thing comes down, i hope to put the statement, "BILLY IS A JERK" on there. i have no idea who billy is, but that dbag is a jerk. ok.

the calm

2009-03-08T11:12:00.001-04:00

hello. yesterday, i read a short story by Raymond Carver entitled The Calm. it is set in a small barber shop, and most of the story is about the main character watching a conversation between his barber and 3 other men. near the end, the barber breaks up an argument, and all 3 end up walking out of the shop, leaving just the man in the chair and him. this is the final scene:

THE barber turned me in the chair to face the mirror. He put a hand on either side of my head. He positioned me a last time, and then he brought his head down next to mine.

We looked in the mirror together, his hands still framing my head.

I was looking at myself, and he was looking at me too. But if the barber saw something, he didn't offer comment.

He ran his fingers through my hair. He did it slowly, as if thinking about something else. He ran his fingers through my hair. He did it tenderly, as a lover would.

That was in Crescent City, California, up near the Oregon border. I left soon after. But today I was thinking of that place, of Crescent City, and of how I was trying out a new life there with my wife, and how, in the barber's chair that morning, I had made up my mind to go. I was thinking today about the calm I felt when I closed my eyes and let the barber's fingers move through my hair, the sweetness of those fingers, the hair already starting to grow.

love, loss, memory. these things are so powerful, to the point where feeling them, even if they hurt and cripple, is better than not feeling anything, at all.

so, now.

2009-03-05T11:33:00.000-05:00

someone once said to me, "make it happen."

i did.

ok.

see

2009-03-03T23:54:00.000-05:00

i went for a late night walk yesterday, mainly because i hadn't run in several days and needed to just get out and MOVE. but of course, i brought the camera. as you've heard me mention, my town, newburyport massachusetts, is a small quiet place. last night, the streets were void of all life. cars were in lots or driveways to make way for snowplows, and no one was out walking at 10:30pm. just a lonely exercise starved person like myself in search of an image or moment that could transform this "life is good" type town into something phenomenal and epic, at least to me. i've been in search of these photos, for over 10 years, from when i got a small olympus stylus epic and shot photos constantly. what a great little camera that was. damn, i miss it. now, it seems, i'm always hoping for that one shot that will define it all. a shot that will explain to someone everything that is going on in my head. an image that will make someone's heartbreak, in the way that i have previously explained heartbreak.

a photo that will make someone truly understand me.

perhaps this is a lot for one image to do, actually, i don't believe that. stand in front of picasso's guernica, or a work by sol le witt. stand on a dark hillside in valley forge park, and stare at the memorial arch, lit up alone amongst the forest and forts. listen to "horn" by nick drake, or read the passage in The Fountainhead where Roark explains to the dean of his school that he doesn't need school anymore. hell, watch brando explain to sheen the utter impossibility of war and humanity.

these single moments of creativity or expression, if they are worthy, extend miles and miles beyond their original intent and purpose.

ok. good.

hi. hello. hi.

2009-02-26T01:36:00.001-05:00

hi. another late night. i've been around now for 39 years, officially, now.

recently, there have been tremendous changes in my life. everything that i have known, all the conventions and rote mechanics of the way that life should work have been left behind. even the way that relationships work no longer make any sense to me. it's very depressing, because for me, nothing is certain anymore. i'm holding onto one thing. to the idea that following your heart, that listening to your instinct will bring you to who you need and want to be in life. maybe that end point will be with someone who you share a special unique bond. maybe you'll be satisfied creatively, financially and socially, but will end up constantly traveling and never having a stable situation.

maybe i'll keep ruminating on all of this until my brain finally can't do it for one second longer. i think that is what will happen. what happens then . . . ok.

the winter effect

2009-02-23T00:25:00.000-05:00

hi. it is snowing again on the north shore of massachusetts. it has been winter here since forever and it is not letting up. if you have read this blog at all, then you know it is chock-full of symbolism and meaning, at least for me, and this winter is just one more symbol to add to the list. it is cold, miserable and often very lonely. the wind makes you cry and the snow over time moves from a pristine white of promise to a polluted and tarnished gray of reality. i don't know when this winter will end. i can't see when the feelings it creates will cease. i'm not sure if spring equals possibility or memory. chet baker once sang that he "should never think of spring, for that would surely break my heart in two." hmmm. ok.

hmm

2009-02-20T03:13:00.000-05:00

there are times, when a song, a book, a poem, a painting, really speaks to what is going on, with me. at first, i was blown away. "this song is exactly how i feel." i thought about it some more, whether we like it or not, we humans feel a lot of the same emotions. out of billions, many of us have experienced love or loss in the same way. the expressions of these emotions by artists, we logically identify with them, we share that. i'm not trying to say that we can't have unique connections and moments, we just share a lot more than we realize. here is a song by daft punk. it's called, "something about us"

It may not be the right time

I might not be the right one

But there's something about us I want to say

Cause there's something between us anyway

I may not be the right one

It might not be the right time

But there's something about us I've got to do

Some kind of secret i will share with you

I need you more than anything in my life

I want you more than anything in my life

I'll miss you more than anyone in my life

i love you more than anyone in my life

ok.

levels

2009-02-18T15:14:00.000-05:00

what is appropriate, what is too much? how many times do we wish we said more, or held something back? is there really a situation where total honesty is too much? i used to think so. one doesn't want to indiscriminately hurt another's feelings. however, holding back, omission, can be just as damaging sometimes. i'm leaning towards always putting it out there, but taking the time and effort to explain and amplify conversation. to not get caught in the lack of emotion that can happen with text or chat, with "the void" as friend once put it to me. things can be perceived in many ways, as in this photo. one reading says, "here are 3 rules that one should obey and look out for on the subway." however, it could also mean "don't litter your body on our tracks and get electrocuted."

i hate it when people treat their bodies like litter.

ok. good.

how are you.

2009-02-15T21:03:00.000-05:00

hello.

_hello.

how are you.

_i am fine. how are you.

good.

_good.

what did you say.

_nothing, why.

i thought i heard you say something.

_no, i didn't say anything.

do you want to talk about anything.

_no. do you.

not really. no.

_ok. good.

ok.

watch out

2009-02-13T22:21:00.000-05:00

i fell like i hear a horn almost all the time.

make it stop.

2009-02-10T13:18:00.000-05:00

so, the human race is dying. we are all in the middle of some cough, fever, flu type thing. at least all of us here in land of god forsaken winter new england slush snow ice 20 degrees F for the past 60 days type place. stop. ok. thanks.

a quiet walk

2009-02-04T00:50:00.000-05:00

hello. in my town, in newburyport massachusetts, many of the streets are very narrow. so much so that the town enforces a parking ban when it snows, so that plows can clear the streets. i currently live in a house that does not have off street parking, so i park my car in a municipal lot and walk home.

tonight, i got home late, around 1045. it was still snowing. the roads were more clear than the sidewalks so i started off down the middle of the street. there were no cars in sight. my only company was the thin layer of slush, a clouded sky lit orange by street lamps, and 200 year old buildings that have stared down upon people like me for well, 200 years. staring at people walking late at night in the snow on their way home.

i've written about quiet, and about thought. it isn't earth-shattering. more so than ever, solitary moments for me have made silence more deafening. tonight it was quiet, but the ambient sound of tires on slush from miles away, or the soft melting of snow that has been on the ground for weeks gave the silence form and shape. the silence was loud.

that is the way it has been for me. the silence that we have for ourselves, the conversations and memories and problems and dreams we have in our brains make a lot of noise. combine all of that with the constant soundtrack i have going, and it is pretty fucking loud.

i hear it, but i need to listen.

ok.

heartbreak

2009-01-27T20:29:00.000-05:00

over the past few months, i've been using the word "heartbreak" a lot. we all have some idea of what this means. i'm sure most of us think of how duckie felt in "pretty in pink." i mean, i'd try to punch the most popular guy in school and run down a hall, trashing the prom banner along the way if i was heartbroken, wouldn't you? however, heartbreak for me has now become multi-dimensional, focusing more on moments when something is so pure, so perfect, so beyond the pre-fabricated and formulaic things we seem to encounter in this century. these things make my heart ache. they make me want to have HD cameras mounted inside my eyes and microphones built into my ears so i can capture these moments without the distraction of hand-held devices. i guess this is ideally what our brain can do and our memories can supply. but we all know that often the sensation is never as strong, unless we have an 104 fever or the most vivid of dreams, waking up laughing out loud or with tears soaking cheeks. i'm going to continue to look for these heartbreaking things, in everyday places, in the small moments and in the corners. ok. good.

ok.

2009-01-26T00:47:00.000-05:00

hello. this photo is from outside a church in my town. not my church mind you, but an amazingly white tall steepled homage to JC or whomever you want. i was skeptical of this quote at first, because of its placement outside a church. after some time, i came to look at it as something that inspired me and gave me direction. i need some of that right now. ok.

screw you "who's the boss?"

2009-01-17T22:43:00.000-05:00

yes. you are correct. i am mad at the 80s television show "who's the boss?" fuck you "who's the boss?" just think about it. for 8 years and 196 episodes, you utterly destroyed the notion that people should find a way to communicate with one another and tell each other their true feelings. hey, "who's the boss?", who said it would be a good idea to make this man and woman keep their love for one another a secret for all of those years? that is the stupidest fucking thing i've ever heard. really, you're really crap, "who's the boss?", and if i had my way, i'd put every recorded copy of your show in a rocket and launch it into the sun. i fucking hate you, "who's the boss?" and i hope my eyes never have to look at you again. have a nice day.

i will lift you

2009-01-13T21:03:00.000-05:00

hello. i'll be there, you know. i will be there to lift you. it may not be comfortable, in fact at times, it may seem even torturous. it will help however, nonetheless. good.

another late night thought

2009-01-11T00:47:00.000-05:00

hi. how are you? i realize that you cannot answer, unless you decide to leave a comment. as you can see, it is snowing again on the north shore of massachusetts. i am in my apartment, listening to the soundtrack from "The Illusionist" and thinking about the age old concept of star-crossed love finally being realized. if you have seen this movie (which i highly recommend) then you will know what i mean. its funny, we humans spend a lot of time, whether we think it prudent or not, looking for someone to understand us, someone who fits with us. someone who will be there in the moments we need them most. as humans, we most likely cannot really live alone. we need others to enrich us, educate us, inspire and fulfill us. there is nothing wrong with this, it is a special gift that we can give to others, and hopefully, receive as well. ok.

. . .

2009-01-08T11:12:00.001-05:00

i love you

2009-01-04T11:26:00.000-05:00

hello. i have missed you. please accept these flowers as token of my affection and devotion. they will last forever. ok. good.

better

2009-01-01T00:48:00.001-05:00

2009, it needs to be this way. ok.

what should happen

2008-12-29T01:09:00.000-05:00

another late night. i should be asleep. but if you are like me, you can't turn off your mind. i am tired, my body needs sleep. i won't do it though, yet. i spent 8 hours of my day driving from massachusetts to pennsylvania, most of it through oppressive traffic. it wasn't a total loss though. i reconnected with some old music, chatted with a long-time friend that i've known since i was 5, and took some photos that interested me along the way. a good part of the time, i sat in silence, and thought a lot. about, what should happen. ok. good.

the sycamore trees

2008-12-27T18:39:00.000-05:00

i've got idea man,

you take me for a walk,

under the sycamore trees.

the dark trees that blow, baby.

in the dark trees that blow.

and i'll see you

and you'll see me.

and i'll see you in the branches that blow,

in the breeze.

i'll see you, in the trees.

under the sycamore trees.

— little jimmy scott, twin peaks: fire walk with me

the first time i heard this song was when i saw the movie. you can't download it on itunes, but i'm sure its out there somewhere. you can hear the notes escaping from his throat, his vocal chords. you can really feel them passing through flesh and combining with air and making heartbreaking sounds. by heartbreaking, i mean that it makes your heart hurt, not of sadness or joy, but of pure emotion and passion itself. ok.

i feel bad about this, really.

2008-12-23T01:34:00.001-05:00

hello. i remove my glove, so that i can smoke this cigarette. yes, the unfiltered kind, because my lungs, and every other internal organ in my body, are made of titanium. however, eventually i put this glove back on. i slowly take a comb out of my inner jacket pocket (no one keeps them in the back pants pocket anymore) and i style this hair one more time. until the next time. then, in accordance with the wishes of my master (and coincidentally, psychotherapist) i put these gloved hands around your neck. i'm pretty sorry about this, but is isn't my fault.

this hair made me do it.

ok.

crown victoria

2008-12-21T19:39:00.001-05:00

hey, ford crown victoria, get the fuck out of the snow. you are going to get ill and frankly i don't have the time or inclination to take care of you. you are old and sick already, disadvantaged as a relic of the american propensity towards huge cars that suck. you are also named after queen victoria, who i think was the longest serving monarch in british history. hmm. maybe this is some sick revenge joke by our UK friends, saddling us with a horribly designed car that won't seem to die or go away. don't worry, detroit will continue to sucker the law enforcement establishment and provide you at incredible deals to every police department who needs you. don't work too hard though, your life as a taxi in some small coastal new england town awaits. ok. good.

power

2008-12-19T02:30:00.000-05:00

yes. the power is on right now. this red light is indicating that this is indeed the case. ok. good.

night

2008-12-17T01:00:00.000-05:00

another late night in new england, but this photo is from seoul, so whatever that means. my views on the solitude, loneliness and epic nature of night, of late night, are not earth-shattering in any way, but i do feel a special happiness in the early hours. there is something about the quiet at this time that envelops you and holds you, when you are alone. it also seems to amplify most emotions. a mid-summer kiss at 2am in a vacant city street seems to have more significance than one walking out the door to work. words written seem to have more meaning, i imagine always being spoken in a whisper, i love you, i think about you constantly, can you get me a glass of water? there are times, when going to sleep is almost cruel, unless you can dream of the comfort of a darkened room, and love, late at night. ok.

complex

2008-12-15T16:27:00.000-05:00

things are complex. they are intricate and require thought and logic. passion can often get in the way, no matter how hard one tries to legitimize it. i hate this notion. i am searching for a way to rise above the complexity, to see it as something unto itself, maybe something beautiful to be appreciated and embraced, but not feared. maybe i am kidding myself and acting like i'm 10 years old. maybe this is a way to keep a certain naivete, and not getting caught in a world of "already knowing the answer" and not doing what you want, or need. ok, i've decided. i'm going to revel in the complex. otherwise, i might as well not exist. ok. good.

the system

2008-12-14T20:57:00.000-05:00

hello. how are you. i am well, thank you. yes, i have been away, and i have missed writing. especially as i have been reading a book about writing, and the process that one might go through. this is in the form of haruki murakami's "sputnik sweetheart."

above is a beer i spent the last week drinking in seoul. as you can see, it employs the "fresh taste keeping system." i think i need one of these in my life. more from korea, later. ok.

what

2008-12-03T23:20:00.000-05:00

a memory of a time. of the simplicity of being happy. of knowing what feels right, and doing whatever you can to make it a reality. its another late night in new england, but in my mind i'm looking at this sun. ok. good.

where it all started

2008-12-02T09:17:00.000-05:00

hello. i currently live in new england, where halloween, thanksgiving and christmas were born. it was 32 AD when JC ate a turkey while wearing a stormtrooper costume he got from under a tree near Boston, everyone knows this. america flexes its global might during christmas time. we power huge electric displays of joy and use our rightful share of the worlds limitless supply of energy. we stand in lines at 4am in order to consume, our attempt to somehow fight a recession that we alone can pull out of by shopping for flat-screen TVs. we tolerate the pro forma holiday film that several hollywood stars get stuck with each year (apparently there is a drawing, and some poor sucker loses every year, this time it is vince vaughn and reese witherspoon. tim allen's career never recovered.) and inflate the box office numbers as if dollars somehow equals quality. this is just one part of christmas however, i'm not saying that it is all as depressing as this.

there is still the charlie brown classic. ok. good.

the man

2008-12-01T09:42:00.000-05:00

hi. there has been a lot of chat lately about abraham lincoln, his "team of rivals", barack obama's admiration of him, etc. this is amazing. i have read 4 books about lincoln, 3 non-fiction and 1 historical fiction (gore vidal's book). despite my lack of faith in destiny, diety or otherwise, it is hard to believe at times that such a person happened to be elected president at a time in which the country was on the edge of total collapse. he was a masterful politician who was able to allow everyone to think he was some country bumpkin all the while manipulating everything behind the scenes to execute the war and attempt to heal the nation. i can see why george bush probably thought they were kindred spirits, except lincoln did all the work himself, not his vice president. in addition to his political mastery, he was a sparse succinct writer, who constantly went over his speeches and letters to communicate the most while saying the least. read "lincoln's sword" to learn more about his writing style, and "team of rivals" to see a political master in action. ok.

the quiet

2008-11-30T01:44:00.000-05:00

hi.

it is late again. and extremely quiet. this seems like such a rarity today, even the ambient noise of earth can get in the way, but not right now. sure, there is the hum of this laptop, and the comcast HD box, and some douchebag who is falling down drunk in the street, but outside of that, it is very quiet, and it is just me and my brain. i could say, "i am alone with my thoughts" like every other songwriter, crap movie of the week writer and who knows else, but then i might as well go on and say "i don't know who you are anymore" or "who am i?" lets just say that it is just me now and i have a lot to think about. ok. i drove from the manchester NH airport to newburyport MA and passed maybe 5 cars in 40 minutes, that type of freeway solitude almost never happens anymore, and it is phenomenal. the radio was off, but soundtracks of ambient noise flowed through me, and thoughts of how to share this moment . . . with orion looming large in front of me, turning off the headlights for just a moment to be enveloped by the sky and then remembering that this is crazy and turning them back on. so what conclusions did i reach? has this quiet time produced anything other than this post? no, but to me, right now, the fact that these thoughts exist is enough. ok. good.

what the quiet can do . . .

2008-11-28T23:29:00.000-05:00

it never fails, time spent in rural areas after living in cities always reinforces the concept of quiet and silence. it is quiet here, now, in coatesville pennsylvania. it is a strange place for me to be. things here are worn. don't mistake this with old, there are plenty of old things in this part of the country, but i mean worn, beat down and tired. there is a town whose steel mill shut down years ago and has never recovered. there are thrown-up homes from the mid-70s with moldy aluminum siding and fake decorative shutters with no function. and there are brand new thrown-up condos whose crap construction is already showing. it's a bit depressing. if i had a history in this town, i might feel different, but i didn't and so the isolation is even more acute. i can't think of any place i'd rather be less than here, right now. ok.

thanksgiving club

2008-11-27T18:19:00.000-05:00

today, at 2pm, i went to my parents country club in the outer suburbs of philadelphia for thanksgiving dinner. now, i am not a country club person, in any way. every time i think of being at one, i of course go to the movie caddyshack, or any other film in which the privilege of these establishments is featured. tonight was a strange combination of worlds. there were men in kelly green and navy blue jackets with brass buttons. some of these men wore white or red turtlenecks under these jackets. a man came through in a wheel chair powered by a tube that he blew into. an 85 year old woman complained to her grown son about her aging husband. "he is driving me crazy!" she explained as she dished a cranberry slaw onto her plate. a woman channeling stevie nicks' wardrobe played covers of songs by Jewel and Janis Ian on a casio keyboard. I had two Jamesons and Ginger and watched the entire thing. it wasn't the best thanksgiving ever, but it was the closest thing to a halloween thanksgiving. and who wouldn't want that? ok.

you figure it out, part 2

2008-11-26T10:27:00.001-05:00

yeah, that’s right. a lot of words start with B. somedays however, there is only one that really matters. fill in your own word, as long as that word isn’t “balderdash.” where the hell do you think you are, 1885?

where am i going?

2008-11-25T20:53:00.000-05:00

where am i going? where am i? george carlin once said, "what a horrible question to have to ask another human being, 'where am i' and hope to get a sensible answer, instead of 'you're in the land of forgotten dreams and lost hopes, and you're next on line for the human sacrifice.' " i am not sure where i am "going" yet. that word seems funny, "going" the act of being in a state of "go." wow. i'm not going to mcdonalds however, although it is pretty clear where they are. ok.

noise

2008-11-24T16:14:00.001-05:00

i went for a run this morning, but i skipped the 25 degree fahrenheit morning and drove to the gym to run on a treadmill. i normally abhor this, but it had been 3 days since my last run and i needed it. not that this is anything earth shattering, but i've timed several tracks on a playlist to hit at certain moments during my 33 minute run. the last song is a track from silversun pickups called lazy eye. now, i have realized that this song was quite popular a little while back, but it is new to me, so i'm not too concerned. at around 3:23 into the song (sorry is this too general?) the vocals bleed away and droning guitars crescendo into a voluminous head filling noise. i put my finger on the speed button of the treadmill and went into a full out sprint for the last minute. there is something so cathartic about a mindless explosive run, especially when you are not running away from someone who is trying to kill you, or sell you a rose outside a restaurant. it was one of those moments, with the guitars screaming, the drums crashing and my feet pounding the treadmill that my life almost had a soundtrack. but then, most days it does, inside. in that moment, anything and everything is possible. lets make it so we feel this way all the time. ok.

how

2008-11-23T23:57:00.000-05:00

what makes a connection? what makes one stronger than another? what makes one unique? how do you know where your attention should stay or what it should abandon? this may sound too cliche, but it is what we think of as our heart that tells us. we have such a hard time listening however. i know there are 1000 love songs out there that have documented this heart/head battle, but i have recently discovered that this is an actual phenomena, and the battle is pretty fierce. many times, people let their heads tell them what they should NOT do, as if the heart is wrong somehow, and needs to be put in it's place. i'm thinking another way however, that the heart knows what will bring you happiness, and you should use your brain, your logic, your intellect, all your head-based skills to make everything work out. instinct is stronger than we realize, logic can be just that. even the most streamlined and modern of designs has an emotional and crafted core. lets decide that we will seek this out. good.

oh man.

2008-11-23T17:59:00.001-05:00

when I was in elementary school, we used to have skate nights at a local "roll-o-rama", the kimberton roller rink. there was linda ronstadt music, disco lights, a snack bar and 250 4th graders trying to skate.

the last song was always "stairway to heaven", without fail, and we would all attempt to pair up and find that girl/boy to "slow skate" with. what an excruciating moment, especially for someone like me (see above) it seems like our school was so sexually charged at a really young age. I remember talking about "making out" at age 8 and 9. I don't know, maybe we were normal.

one particular night, I had made up my mind to ask this girl from my neighborhood, the only other jewish girl in my school, to skate the final song. her name was marcy. she was quite popular. we were friends, as shown by her rating of me in the school "kissing book" that all the girls had made. It scored all the guys they would want to kiss on a scale of 10 down to 1. she told me that she gave me a 1 instead of a zero, "because we were friends." man.

so, they announced the final skate, and I awkwardly made my way towards her to ask. the lights had gone down to a deep amber brown, and the mirror ball began to rotate slowly. the first guitar picks of "stairway to heaven" began to echo through the rink. I got over to her, I could see she was looking for someone, and that someone was not me. I asked if she would skate with me. she tried to look at me in the kindest way she could, and told me that this other guy, had already asked her. I made some noise about how that was cool, and turned around to drift away.

it was so emotional, I was crying. why did it have to be so damn hard? why did I want that moment so much? where was my easy time, my normalcy? why was I this freak that no one wanted to kiss or skate the slow skate to stairway to heaven with? I knelt down to untie my skates, when I saw these adult feet in front of me. it was my friend's mother, a chaperone. "are you ok, are you crying?" she asked. I made the lamest excuse ever, "no, I've just got some dust in my eye." SOME DUST IN MY EYE! unbelieveable.

I've never forgotten that night. the silence I sat in when my parents picked me up from the rink, the lonliness I felt in my bed that night. the desperation. it wasn't until years later, when I was more myself, more who I really am, that the trauma of that moment was there for me. that going for it and weathering the hard times can bring about a better life.

warm leatherette

2008-11-22T23:27:00.000-05:00

magic 103 WMGK. philadelphia. 1977. harry chapin is singing "taxi" and i am in the back seat of my mom's car. it is hot and august. something about that era feels like august, amber tinted photographs and refrigerators, brown, harvest gold, avocado. the beat hot sun and the lack of gas and the world blowing up and me getting burned on the warm leatherette, choking on the smoke coming from the car ashtray. chapin's taxi driver has just given into his life and is getting stoned, and his actress will continue her life of fake happiness. it's too bad that they couldn't communicate, or fall in love, or whatever. she gives him 20 bucks and he probably blows it on dope. it's a song about memory, but also about regret and lost opportunities. let's all agree we won't let this happen. ok.

murakami_norwegian wood

2008-11-22T09:10:00.000-05:00

"i telephoned midori. 'i have to talk to you,' i said. 'i have a million things to talk to you about. a million things we have to talk about. all i want in this world is you. i want to see you and talk. i want the two of us to begin everything from the beginning.'

midori responded with a long silence — the silence of all the misty rain in the world falling on all the new-mown lawns of the world. forehead pressed against the glass, i shut my eyes and waited. at last, midori's quiet voice broke the silence: 'where are you now?' "

what is more important than telling another human being exactly how you feel about them? well, perhaps many things. but right now, for me, this is the most important thing. ok.

man.

2008-11-21T11:23:00.000-05:00

coffee, pounding beijing pop-punk, email, creative direction, ego-stroking, and more email. this is what sometimes makes up a morning, makes up a day. there are times when the sounds of snapline, queen sea big shark or PK14 are buzzing in my head, through meetings and conversations. "what was that important thing regarding the brand you just said? i didn't hear you because my mind is in another place and my heart is exploding. sorry, my bad." so, i'll keep my headphones on as much as possible today. it may not go over well in the staff meeting, but is there anything said in that forum that is really important today? ok. good.

the decision

2008-11-20T12:39:00.000-05:00

what is worth fighting for in life? what are the most important things? can one think about life in terms of longevity, and live according to the idea that no moment should be wasted? i sometimes feel this way, that we only have on average 80 years or so, and to spend any amount of it NOT working towards true happiness is extremely wasteful. i think one can know what they want, who they want and do whatever they can to achieve those things. to fight for those things. it is like a line from a song, "i'd rather be working for a paycheck, than trying to win the lottery." that job, that "paycheck" is the thing you really want, and you work for it. not droning beat down work, but inspired passionate pursuit of something crafted and loved. ok. good.

seems logical

2008-11-19T17:07:00.000-05:00

the refrigerator is one of the unsung heros of out-of-home advertising. messages are left here constantly, they are sought for here. very often, these appliances look empty without a collection of calendars, notes, artwork or smear of pasta sauce. here are two. one is so epic, so clear. it takes a certain audacity to eat food that doesn't belong to you from a public refrigerator. this same type of person also picks his nose and puts the result under their desk. the squirrel thing, i mean, come on, awesome.

the truth

2008-11-18T21:36:00.000-05:00

i love you, but not as much as i love your legs. i love their orange color, and the way the nails hang off the end of your toes. to show how much i love these legs, i am giving them a red rose. there you go, long orange long-nailed legs, there is a rose for you. now go and use those legs to get me a double-tall non-fat latte. ok. thanks.

true

2008-11-17T22:21:00.000-05:00

ukrainian village, chicago. i'm not sure if this was white out, paint or cake frosting that was used to make this message, but it is pretty amazing. the store windows were papered over, with no indication as to what type of business used to be there. i'm going to hope that someone was in love with the shop owner, and went there everyday to buy replacements for his Franklin Covey day planner, using one page each day and then getting another the following and so on. either that, or it used to be a video store dedicated to the david lynch tv opus Twin Peaks. in that case, it was me who wrote this message. either way, i do miss you.

no photo attached

2008-11-14T00:37:00.001-05:00

it is late at night here on the east coast of North America. a time for reflection, a time to think about criticism versus true expression. is saying what you feel, really putting it out there and taking the consequences of that action a positive or negative act? very often, it seems that these forms of communication are more about being critical. however, i recently had the opportunity to tell someone how i really felt about them, in a positive way. to be able to look a person in the eye, someone who you are having conflict with, and simply say, “i miss you, i love you, i am sorry that things are difficult between us. here are the things that i am sorry for, and here is the friend that i can be”, can be amazingly liberating and can remove all types of stress, at least for me. i think we carry so much stress around with us. from insecurities, and miscommunications, to little stories and lies. i guess i say “we” to make myself feel better. this is something i that i have done. not anymore. good night, i’ll bring some more irony another day.

you figure it out

2008-11-12T15:09:00.000-05:00

just fill in the blank, depending on how your day is going. enjoy. ok.

word

2008-11-09T22:07:00.000-05:00

In the Pennsylvania State University Library, there are densely populated shelves of every type of volume imaginable. Many books are housed in "the stacks." these corridors have extremely low ceilings, numerous nooks and crannies, one can get lost back there. in fact, a woman was murdered in there during the 1960s, she wasn't found for days and it remains unsolved. these particular books get right to it.

the reason

2008-11-08T01:31:00.000-05:00

this blog is supposed to be about, in part, honesty in speech, meaning in conversation, reality. i first started thinking seriously about this when i was living in amsterdam, the netherlands. after having been there for a few weeks, i realized that there was a lack of superfluous speech. people would say hello, or good morning as a greeting, but never “how are you doing?” or “what’s up?” unless they really had the time to hear the answer. returning to the US accentuated my awareness of this phenomena with banal utterances of “let’s get together soon” or “i know what you mean” during conversation. i designed a line of t-shirts and posters about the subject. ok. good.

please

2008-11-06T23:33:00.000-05:00

shear madness, hair affair, shear genius, the director’s cut. i live in a town with a small waterfront and a tiny airfield. oh, it also has a hair port. damn.

a bit drastic

2008-11-06T15:54:00.000-05:00

when i saw this, well, i didn't know what to think. obviously it has a functional purpose for the space in which it exists, but i had the feeling that someone, perhaps a salmon spawn supporter from the klamath basin in oregon, was behind this sign. however, this door is in nyc, so, kind of a missed opportunity.

yes.

2008-11-05T13:07:00.000-05:00

simple, succinct, honest.
yes.

ok. good. ok.

2008-11-05T11:56:00.000-05:00

what are we talking about? what are we saying? are the words we utter formulaic? how much of our speech is programmed and geared towards just keeping our existence moving towards an end that we probably have no idea will really consist of? i think about this stuff all the time, and very recently, have decided that saying what you feel, being real, human and honest is the only way to communicate. decorum needs to exist of course, and consideration and caution. however, real communication and dialogue needs to open and honest, or you are just wasting time. posts on this blog will be about these moments in speech, and in life.