Junior Brown at Willie's Place

Junior Brown played the Willie's Place theater Friday, April 17, 2009 at Willie Nelson's truck stop/restaurant/biofuel-station/theater along I-35 in Carl's Corners, TX. I have wanted to see Junior Brown play a live show ever since Curt introduced me to his music way back on Jane Street. He played his "steel-guit", and had two backing musicians, a drummer and a upright-bassist.

This was my first Junior Brown show, and I was stoked to see Junior Brown play "Broke Down South of Dallas" at Carl's Corner's about an hour south of Dallas:


He played a new song about "Green Chilies":


And this new one is called "You Do the Math":


If you get a chance to see Junior Brown play live, GO!!! We were buying tickets when an older couple asked if they should bother staying to see the show. "Junior Brown is about as Texas as country music gets. It's worth it!" That couple stayed, danced and loved the show. We missed the free show that Willie did yesterday at his own Theater to celebrate his 76th birthday (can you imagine that!!!), but we'll try to check his next local show this summer.

Friday, December 05, 2008 marks 75 Years . . . of American Libation!!! .

You do the math, gentle reader over the age of 21, and then reward yourself with a cold one or a hot one, a short one or a tall one. A single? A double? A domestic or an import? A red or a white? Dry or up on the rocks? Mix it up or take it straight? Whatever you want!

You owe it to yourself and your-great grandpa to knock one back in a few short weeks.
And say a prayer for the Doughboys who never returned, and those returned and couldn't have one.

At a loss for what to order? I recommend a Gin Rickey, any IPA, a Jameson Mint Julep, a Chelsea Sidecar, or any fine Pinot Noir. Cheers!!!

As with any long, multi-state roadtrip, you encounter unusual sights. On the trip from Boston to Texas, we had just crossed into Tennesee



when we saw a vehicle:

Click on these photos so you can make out the details of what this fellow has engineered on his vehicle.



I have never built a car from a kit, or from scratch, so I can't criticize him in any way. Clearly this Summer-Sunday-Touring ... vehicle, includes the best of your porch and patio, your pontoon boat, and everything else homemade or leisurely. Items of note include: the propane tank gas tank visible from behind; the front porch lighting fixture visible in profile.

Many modern car manufacturers allow you to add features and "design" your own model, adding or subtracting specific features as you wish. But this fellow is incomparably original! He drives every Do-It-Yourselfer's dream, and every teenaged-kid-who-gets-dropped-off-at-school's nightmare. I love it!!!

Take a look at this lazy lot of loafers. What a way to spend a Saturday afternoon, right? They need to rest though, because in a few hours, like it or not ...

... they will be in the spotlight!

This is outside of the Bell County Expo Center in Belton, TX from last weekend (Saturday evening) where the Central Texas State Fair took place.

Like most state fairs, there are games and rides and livestock competitions where animals are judged and peered over like, well like livestock.

Some animals are shy ...
others are indifferent...
some are there to work ...
and some working animals are not shy. This horse took a very long hard pee, in the middle of the arena before thousands of people. He didn't care, had to pee, and knew some serious work may be coming out of that chute any second.




Thus, the highlight of the fair, for us at least was the PBR, or Professional Bull Riding. We had never seen live bull riding, and thought Pabst Blue Ribbon must be a sponsor some of these events, but ... anyways. What you have here is a pretty good ride.
The riders get a score but the details of the scoring system were foggy. Was the world record only an 8 second ride? Some guys were on their bull for longer than that... So, following the rodeo, we watched the movie '8 Seconds.' This helped, and informed us about Lane Frost, who was a true champion rodeo cowboy, but the why the timing was important, how the score came about... was a mystery. A web search led us to the PBR rules. To quote: " The total score possible for a bull ride is 100 points. Half of that total is based on the performance of the bull and how difficult he is to ride. Judges look for bulls with speed, power, drop in the front end, kick in the back end, directions changed and body rolls." ... "The other half of the ride is determined by the rider's ability to match the moves of the bull beneath him. Judges look for constant control and good body position throughout the ride. Spurring the bull is not required but extra "style points" are awarded for doing so. The rider must stay aboard the bull for eight seconds. The clock begins when the bull's shoulder or hip crosses the plane of the bucking chutes and stops when the bull rider's hand comes out of the rope or he touches the ground. The bull rider must ride with one hand and is disqualified if he touches himself or the bull during the eight-second ride." Source http://PBRNow.com But the best part of the show? Mutton busting! It's pretty self-explanatory, so watch and enjoy!

We have moved from the Boston area to the Great Nation of Texas. We have found a home, some work (some), and the cat is becoming acclimated to being an indoor/outdoor cat. This is a work in progress, as he hasn't QUITE figured out the "Medium"-sized pet-door that the house came with.

We did have to use plums, pieces of cat-bite-sized plums to lure him out with, so as to learn the tricks of the "medium"-sized pet-door that the house came with. Our(?) cat is medium sized... he is 17 pounds.

Ahh... on to the cultural bits. We came in need of a new dresser. New to us. And after scouring the Craigslist and local newspaper, today, we happened upon a yard sale, all-day every-day yard sale, with dressers. We easily spotted the first one from the road, but upon closer inspection (all while side-stepping cow pies), we discovered that the dresser was beyond repair. A few cow pies later, we'd found another (better) dresser that we eventually purchased and squeezed into the back of the VW Golf.

There's something to be said for people who run yard sales (all-day, every-day) in any state (or the Great Nation of Texas) who want to sell things for a profit... but are also completely bored. Poor Mitch. Mitch sold us our new (to us) dresser. We couldn't help but feel a bit bad that we'd pulled up in our car and pulled Mitch away from his post at the TV, watching some Nicole Kidman historical piece.

We have to hand it to him, though. He was a bit of a salesman.

"We'll be back with the cash for that dresser," we said.
"That mirror," said Mitch. "I'll take $10, it was $20. And I'll ask my brother what he wants for that lawnmower. Come back tomorrow. I'll tell you if the weed-eaters eat weeds."

Thanks, Mitch. You're a pal.

Other bits of cultural information:

- "Jiffy" is now an adjective. As in, "they aren't real jiffy about it."
- There is a helicopter for purchase. It's displayed along I-20 headed towards Dallas from Tyler, TX. We'd like to buy it, but we're not sure that there's room for it in the garage.

News for the ADD set. Posted by ...

Found myself with friends snowboarding and skiing at Pat's Peak in NH. It looks like this at night in the winter.



Saw some flamenco dancers at the Spanish restaurant Tasca. They looked like this.



Cut a friend's hair for free. It came out alright, and looks like this.



Saw a swampy fen in the winter. It looks like this.



Took a dog to Jamaica Pond for a walk. When he sees ducks, he looks like this.



Found a turkey between the neighbors houses. It looked like this.



And that's about all. I am doing some work. I am being prodded by a dog to finish.

A Word About Deposits on Bottles and Cans: Print your Slip Before You Walk Away !
- or -
How Two Dollars Didn't Change My Life for the Worse.

Some states have deposits on bottles and cans. You can take your recyclable bottles and cans to a store and get your deposit returned. At some participating stores, you simply hand the bottles and cans over to a person, and they give you money. Other places, you interact with a machine. It reads the UPC code, and if it accepts the item, smashes the glass bottle, and tabulates a running credit for you until you press the receipt-print-out button with your total deposit credit. You take your credit slip to a register where a clerk will scan it and pay you your deposit.

I did this yesterday. Folks came over this weekend, and there were enough bottles afterward to warrant a trip for getting a return deposit. I visited a participating store to redeem roughly two cases of bottles and a case of cans. I handled two of the four paper bags of bottles in my trunk into the store. The clerk directed me to a pair of machines labeled 'Bottles.' The first one read "FULL" and following the written directions on the second, I began placing bottles into it. There were not other people there, but someone had left a balance of $1.85. Hmm? Shouldn't they have printed this out? I left a thirty cent balance on a machine at a grocery store last fall because ... well, it was thirty cents. I didn't care what happened to the thirty cents. Someone else, some kid or some old person will benefit from this anonymous gesture of mine. Now, another person had left a random act of kindness for a stranger to find. For me to find! It was shaping up to be a good day after all. The rest of my afternoon, I would ...

"Hey!!! DUDE!!! What are you doing? Stealing my deposit?"
"Excuse me?"
"That's my machine! My bottles!"
"I'm sorry, but nobody was here."
"That's my money!"

A 40-year-old, clean-shaven, gray sweatshirt wearing, Patriots beanie cap guy was ready to take out his 18-1, near perfect season, Super-Bowl-loss aggression out on me. He was not dirty. He was not smelly.

"My bottles! Those are my bottles!!!"

I had already added an additional dollar in bottles to this machine, and was not finished with my business. It must be his money, so I would give him his neglected deposit. After I finished with my business.

"Look... There was nobody here when I started. It said $1.85. When I finish, I will give you your $1.85. You just have to wait." He must've weighed the options and decided not to smash me, like so much glass in those machines. Instead he muttered, angrily, about how how people don't pay attention, how he just stepped outside, and he gestured to the door where he exited. I continued feeding bottles into the machine. On the sidewalk by the door was a grocery cart with folded black bags, and filled bags.

The machine spat a bottle back out. "Cannot Read UPC. Please Try Again." Some nervous beer drinker had peeled half the label off. When the machine declined again, I put the bottle in a bin of random bottles behind me.

"Oh!!! Now your stealing my OTHER bottles, too!" Super-Bowl-loss-embittered man stopped feeding from his paper bag into the adjacent machine to come harass me more. "My bottles! Those are my bottles!!!" He was not dirty. He was not smelly. He was angry.

So I put the bottle back down.
"There. You can take these other ones, too. This store doesn't sell them so you take 'em somewhere else when you go."
"This is the only store I go to. If they don't take 'em, I don't want 'em."

Fine. He printed his slip, and walked away. I printed my slip, walked outside to get the other two bags of bottles in my car.

"Hey!!! You come back here!!!" shouted the man as I opened the door.
"Just one moment please," I replied, gesturing upwards with a polite finger that I was returning momentarily. I slowly opened my trunk, retrieved the other two bags and headed back inside.

Back at the machine, I stuffed two dollar bills into my front pocket to give this guy when he returned. I did owe him that money, and I didn't want to cheat him. It was his money. And then he returned.

"Dude. This is your two dollars; take it," I said, and began loading the machine again. "I would print my slip before walking away next time. It's just easiest and safest that way." He walked back over and handed me two dimes. Neither one of us looked at the other, but kept loading bottles.

"I hate small tickets," he grumbled, and went on about the burden of taking several slips to the counter for redemption. I printed my fourth slip, nodded affirmatively to him, cashed in for $4.65 and left, grateful that a misunderstanding over two dollars didn't change my life for the worse.

I have moved to Jamaica Plain, MA, reportedly the most culturally diverse neighborhood in the greater Boston area. A casual look at my block shows this to be true. Asian folk, Mid-East folk, Af-Am folk, Eastern European folk, Suburban-white folk, and dogs, they're all here. There are not many radical departures from what I have known before, but I do want to share some things that I have noticed about my surroundings.

Let's begin with my neighbors across the street. These are environmentally- conscious folks (note the large, blue recycling bin?) from an undisclosed Asian country, and we have only exchanged casual greetings as we pass on the sidewalk, collect the mail, or shovel out space in the snow to leave a car in front of the building. You will not see their picture in this post, but I believe they are devotees to a 'newly constructed' faith. Just check out the image of their shrine here:


Once I have introduced myself, I shall inquire about the name of their deity and the nature of their religion.

One theory includes: A religion based on 'new construction' or 'reconstruction' of the self, blended with an emphasis on traveling safely.


I mentioned that there are dogs on the street, too. In addition to the renovated kitchen, new appliances (including a dishwasher!), and hardwood floors, my apartment came with a small dog.
He is a puggle, a pug and beagle mix, named Charlie. Charlie already has a home with humans that tend his every need. He is lonely, and asked me to post this picture and personal ad, hoping interested parties will respond to me or his owners:


Charlie is an Aquarius who likes short walks and long walks, tennis balls, and prefers bovine chew-products. He is non-denominational, a non-smoker, NOT a vegetarian, and enjoys an occasional beer or glass of wine. A ladies' dog (and a lady's dog), Charlie likes pillows, and casual-wear collars and leashes. He has no offspring of his own, but is very eager to start a family.



Note: Charlie is in a 'casual' relationship with a pug female ... but at the moment is not committed.

Long time no post! And now the proverbial returning-to-blog phrase: I hope to keep the posts coming and frequently! How've you been? In short, things have sucked, but may have been much worse, and are improving here...

The past few months have been ... well, they have been. Work problems, housing problems, health problems, car problems, all circling and swirling, slooping and slopping together as so many clothes and detergent bubbles in a Maytag washer cycle. And yes, they're clearing up slowly. Like line drying clothes. And like line drying clothes, I suppose these things are better to have happen in summer and autumn, than in winter. Challenges are inevitable, but sometimes they bunch together, and become oil gathering on the surface of water. At moments, I have felt like that otter, like that duck, going about his business when a banana-peel-slip on the bridge of an oil tanker leads to disaster. And somehow, unbeknownst to me, my fur, my feathers, have a coating of crude petroleum that won't rinse, lick, or shake off. But now an environmental cause that cleans beaches and wildlife after oil spills, has begun to work on me and my world. And through each of these lumps to the head, my wonderful woman has been steady and true, even and straight. For this, I am so very grateful. And I am grateful for the invisible hand that has kept me from steering into the rocks of disaster.

This is how the ocean looks must days on the Massachusetts South Shore. Sometimes, we get some winds and there is a swell, with rideable waves. Mostly, it's pretty calm. Lake-like.

Two weeks ago on St. Patrick's Day, we had a pretty big snow storm, and the Atlantic Ocean was pretty busy in these parts. These pics were taken around 11:30 AM, about an hour after high tide.






The black spots on this photo are IN it... that's all debris being washed aobut in the waves. Do not surf in water like this: it'll break your board, and maybe you!

This is a lobster trap, one among many, that was trounced upon the rocks.

That's a storm drain that empties out onto the beach.


Here's the beach access through the sea wall. Those cement blocks aren't there during the summer. In winter, they lay across the open space, intended to block the flow of water. Here, they have been puched over to the left... by man or nature? That water in the access is sea water draining back out to sea after coming over the seawall.




This house is a favorite of mine. You can see the water coming up the sides of the wall. It's about an eight foot drop down to the rocks, and on the ohouse side, it's about three foot high. The sides of this house are lined with beach-stones, and you'll see how that's a really good idea, given it's location. The fella who owns it helped me dig my car free after I stuck it in the sand this past fall.

Those meter-high posts are spaced about ten feet apart (yes, I'm mixing metric and SAE measurements). The bursts coming over the wall were even bigger an hour earlier that day.

This is a series of pictures from Scituate Harbor in February. My favorite is the boat, frozen at the dock.

Twenty years ago today, Mr. Andy Warhol passed away. Shortly before leaving town, I took my girl there to see the headstone. This is from the Post-Gazette:



In other news, last week I went out skating in my neighborhood... by myself. It was not the wisest thing to do, perhaps, but it was exhilirating, and the sub-freezing weather last week did not let up. Now, there are myriad factors that should sway people from casual pond skating, like unseen springs feeding into ponds, etc., that suggest that one may meet with disaster. In the area this winter, I have seen folks out skating, setting up hockey nets, and NOT falling into frigid waters. I wore my neoprene surfing gloves just in case I fell in, with visions of frozen fingers being unable to turn the key in my car's ignition when equipped with wooly mitts. All said and done, the pond by my house was frozen solid and skate-worthy, so I spent about forty five minutes exploring all of the nooks and glens that are accessible by boat only in warmer air.

I learned to skate when I was four, indoors at a rink. Maybe fifteen years ago, my Dad, the Filoni brothers, Dan Desena and I went out to Canonsburg Dam in January. That was my first and only outdoor skating on a natural surface until last week. The five of us played half-court hockey on the frozen lake.

Not even Krzysztof Kieslowski's Decalogue I kept me from going out. I borrowed this from the library last week, as part of my ongoing self-taught film-studies course. One day, I hope to teach a film class, if only to my biological children or nephews and neices. Right. Decalogue I is the saddest of the series, and I knew nothing about it. I planned to have dinner, watch an installment of this 'great' movie series and then skate. Who knew ("Not I," said the Matt) that the first episode is about a kid falling though the ice when skating? who knew this would be his end? Again, not me. But I watched it, and went skating anyways. And this speaks of convergence.

Another minor sampling of this convergence happened last week, again with the library and home DVDs. I borrowed Lonesome Dove and watched it at home last week, only to learn in the special features that it was 18 years ago, almost to the day (certainly the week) that the mini-series came out. February 4. A big deal? Am I Karnak? No, just a mere observation. I also observed that my Dad's birthday is today: he would be 74.

I Open My Fertile Fields for You to Cultivate.
- or -
Irony, Inwardness and Other Self-Centered Thoughts.

All of this stems from a dictionary definition of the word "irony." You know what it means, don't you? Some, like our friend Alanis Morissette, may say that they do, but this is arguable. You can guess that the reason why a 7th grade English teacher might look up the word IRONIC is probably obvious, but the real reason I did, you would not guess. So let's start at the beginning.

In the beginning of my teaching career this year, before there were students, there were last years' artworks left in the halls. Yes, ancilliary cleaning crews strip, wax, and polish the floors each summer, but nonetheless, a paper mache mermaid sat awaiting me on the floor in an empty hallway this past August, days before any students had arrived. I picked said beauty up from the floor, and rested her fishy form on the window sill outside the art room. She remains there to this day, and this day is the day I stuck a post-it note on her lap that reads:
"How am I Ironic?"
Well, it should be obvious to the artist who created her, and anybody familiar with paper mache, that she is an incongruity between what is expected and what actually occurs. Nobody expects a mermaid constructed out of materials that quickly dissolve in saltwater, thus the irony. But, we'll see who, if anybody notices this. You, gentle reader, are miles, even time-zones away, and can chortle to yourself about the dry mermaid who sits silently with an unanswered question atop her lap: "How am I Ironic?"
We'll see if anybody answers, or notices, even.

Yes, but in looking to see if she truly is Ironic, I noticed some notes from Ed Said's book Beginnings on a scrap of paper that I found in my dictionary, marking the page before Irony. The notes read:

"A beginning represents a discontinuity with what precedes it. It opens fertile fields to be cultivated by others, allowing for the formation of subsequent texts. There must be the desire, will and freedom to reverse oneself, to accept the risk of rupture and discontinuity; for whether one looks to see where and when he began, or whether he looks in order to begin now, he cannot continue as he is. It is very difficult to begin with a wholly new fresh start." - Edward Said, Beginnings: Intention & Method p. 34

Indeed, this is the genius behind ingenius ideas: They make a wholly new and fresh start. Genius is related to genes, and Genesis, the root word meaning (my note/idea, not Said's).

"So borrowed from reality, and selected by necessity or need are then employed though the act of creation to make a new world or idea. These elements are thus refashioned or transformed." - Edward Said, Beginnings: Intention & Method p. 34
We have been reading Cosmogonies, Origin Stories, or Creation Stories, and I can't help but find something... cosmically ironic (?) about the discovery of notes from Said's Beginnings on the same day I left a note from my beginning, and felt a little 'ruptured' and 'discontinuous.' I suppose I should set down my wine glass and return to grading essays. I hope that Sunday I can paddle out on the water in Rhode Island and get some surf. I despeerately need it.

Voting, Winter, Curry and Saltwater

Mad props to the state of Massachusetts! Yes, there's a lot of cool, ground breaking stuff that you politicos are aware of, like Deval Patrick winning the gubernatorail race, and becoming Mass' first black gubernor, and I believe only the second Af Am gubernor ever, but what you may NOT know, is that MA informs the voters. YES! The candidates will make themselves known, true. Register to vote, though, and they'll send you a pamphlet about the big issues that voters will vote on. Oh yeah, they have voters vote on big issues, like, can we sell alcohol in the grocery store (even though they sort of already do), and should we let child care providers organize into unions and strike! Take note, Pennsylvania!!!

Winter is staying away for a few days more. In fact, the Massachusetts weather has regressed back to early October. It still looks like this in places on the way home from work on sunny afternoons:






The surf has picked up a bit, so much so, that I've been able to get out two days in a row, have passed by 'lesser wave' days, and accordingly have upgraded from Kook to Novice. I have logged at least 12 hours in the water, surfed in three spots and two states. I plan to 'get wet' tomorrow. The waves, from on shore, look different now; the waves in the water look different, too. I now can tell which are teasers, and which will actually take you somewhere. I still have yet to perfect the stance, and must learn to turn. I've done some really mediocre rides, but it's lots of fun...

Here's the back of the place I'm renting:















Here's my board:





Here's the nose of my board:







My board lives in a 9 foot silver bag, indoors; it does not live on my porch, and nobody's boards should. Mine is only outdoors and out of the bag when it's wet, or on the way to or from the water. The white stuff flecked on it is surf wax, the stuff that helps you stick to your deck.

I've done a bunch of dumb stuff like stalled out a wave, pearled the nose of my board killing a potential ride and jettisoned from my board like an Olympic ... something. I've ridden on one or both knees for most rides, but have discovered that this, although not pretty is acceptable, because kneeling is halfway to stance.

I've done some smart stuff, like the above to avoid hitting another surfer, and just as smart, got out of the high tide waters at Egypt beach, which will beat you up and possibly snap your board. No wonder people were leaving the water! That is strictly a low-tide spot, because at high-tide the waters meet a wall of gravel and golfball-sized stones. This with a five to six foot wall of foamy SLOOSH rushing towards you, as the stuff at knee level and below rushes out from under you, churning up the golfballs and gravel, tearing your board away and out of your arms only to throw it back at you (it is attached by a leash at your ankle), and then knowck you over... this is on the way out into the waves, and on your way back in to shore. It should'nt be this hard I thought, and yeah, it shouldn't. Pro's avoid that stuff, because it is hazardous to your board and you!

I bought a winter suit, a 6/5/4 suit of neoprene that you enter and exit from the neck opening. It's like birth. I now have new sympathy for any and every mother, because of the work getting in and out ofsaid suit, and I haven't even been out when the air temp has dropped below fifty yet. You're noticeably buoyant, and with the hood, gloves, booties and suit, only your face is directly exposed to the outside elements. yes, you're wet. It;'s a wetsuit, but your body heats the bit of water that come into your suit pretty quickly. We'll see how i feel aobut all of this come December , January, and February. I'm learning that yes, even the meanest wave will let you go before you run out of breath. I'm learning that swell (noun) is swell (adj), and that wind can make or break a swell.

Curry

This stuff is great, especially if you fry up some meat or tofu, add coconut milk, vegetables, and pinea=pple.

I've now made 365 posts! So obviously if you read one per day for a year, it would take you a year to read everything I ever wrote on my blog. I doubt if anybody will EVER do that. My best and biggest fans (whoever that may be) would read a few at a time, and skip over many... or most.

Last but not least, I've finished the first Quarter without having to send anybody to the office. I've given out a fair share of detentions, made some parent phonecalls, perhaps some parent watch lists, but no ... well, I did break up one fight, and had to write a referral but that was something I stumbled into in the hallways. nobody has been booted from my class to the office yet. Let's hope it goes as well for Quarter 2.

Scituated: Wild Life and the Ocean

I am now in my second month of teaching 7th graders and living in Scituate, MA. Scituate is considered "the Irish Riviera," where a fella like me fits in pretty well around here. I'm the sole winter rental tenant in a beach house, and I'll only be there until June. After that who knows??? So I'm enjoying my time here as best I can. It'd be nice to stay in Scituate somewhere, but I may have to live elsewhere. I'm four or five houses from the seawall, and you can look out from several windows to see the ocean. We have possums and coyotes, too. Neither animal do I have a desire to meet up close. The ocean however is something completely different.

I am now a kook. In some ways you already knew this to be true, but in acquiring a 9 foot Challenger surfboard, I'm taking my kookiness definitions to a new level. Yeah, a blue striped longboard. But wait, isnt the water up there cold, even when it's scorching hot in August? Yes. YES it is. I went down the street and out in the water ten days ago in my swim trunks. Just me, no gear, only white and blue Hawaiian floral print swim trunks. I thought I should know the waters and ho wcold they are before investing in a board. It took three or four cautious minutes to wade out waist deep. Putting my hands in the water was brave, but dropping under a wave and completely submerging... was ... exhilarating! The most awake I've been since April! I was disrobing at the beach, swam, redressed and was back home in fifteen minutes.

Yeah, so I bought a wetsuit. It's blue, too. I picked blue, because black is harder for the divers to see when searching for my corpse on the sea bottom. Just kidding, Mom. :D I won't drown. You can go out to surf in this fall suit, and not be cold until November. That's when you buy gloves. Later, you buy a winter suit. Normally you'd expect 'winter suits' to be a grey tweed, not grey neoprene. You're warm, not fashionable. Current sea temp is about 59 Faherenheit, and will drop ten degrees over the next month. Apparently guys in New England like to send their Californian and Hawaiian surf friends photos of themselves in the water, on their boards, while it's snowing. We'll see what I can post for you.

In my suit, I feel like Mr. "Hero-in-Training": not quite competent enough for the cape, not yet deserving of the cowl or mask. My accesories are booties. Split toe. They insulate and protect your feet from cold and rocks. Walking out onto the land, the sealed-in water drips inside of my suit, pooling at my ankles. It's sealed in, so I feel like I'm wearing some grandma's ankle-bunching pantyhose. Again, one is warm, not fashionable.

Then there's the kids who think you are Kelly Slater or Jack Johnson. Both are great surfers, surf heroes even. One is also a national recording artist. One kid asks in genuine amazement, "How do you guys do it?" Really, I'm too embarrassed to tell him the truth: I'm lucky if I get a wave, and then luckier if can kneel or stand on it. Some day I'll learn how to turn. Yes, yes... how do I do it? Then there's the creepy kid who giggles and stares at you, standing at your car, peeling off your suit. His aunts chime in, "Leave the man alone. Don't bother him. He doesn't want to ride in your stroller."

Ahh ... the wildlife I have met up close though have been jelly snails. I dunno what they're called for real, but they are clearand have snail-like antennae. I was sitting atop my board at Nantasket this past Columbus Day when I noticed the funky feeling water had thousands of some transparent, snot-looking, shell-less snails floating. Everywhere. They must be spawning. And of course there's the Cohasset Sevvie. So much, really, of why I am here. I am learning as much about these odd creatures as they are learning from me. I'm saving the best bits to share with them for last. Bits like, I'm learning to surf, and I have removable teeth. Save something for later in the year. The teeth must wait until after Christmas break...

Ahhh... the sweet smell of "I don't have to live in limbo anymore!"
You can expect an update about that. Soon. It involves teaching 7th graders in Massa-chewbacca.

Until then, I must return to reading more student "I Am" poems. Some memorable lines so far:

"I am the girl who lives at the barn."
"I am a gleaming microwave who is kind to others."
"I am a wonderful sailboat."
"I am a tree hugger who believes writing poetry in school kills creativity."
"I am a clever dog owned by a 95 year-old woman."

And speaking of poetry...

A look back some four years with a nod to Mike Melczak:

Nov. 13, 2002
From mike melczak:

a poetry

The Toy Maker

a toy-maker made a toy wife and a toy child. he made a toy house

and some toy years.

he made agetting-old toy, and he made a dying toy.

the toy-maker made a toy heaven and a toy god.

but, best of all, he liked making toy shit.

russel edson, 1976


OK, so who is Russel Edson? Is he for real? yes . . . although I had to ask Mr. Google, because one never knows for sure with melczak, he's crafty like that. I think he likes to keep us on our toes. :)

Oh if only I could share that one withthe sevvies. Look for a pun filled update soon!

A Poetry that has nothing at all to do with...

... will*I*am eS*P*y

"Prometheus in Wonderland"

Father showed, in front of me,
While mother's stove and frontispiece
Gently spoke so she'd believe
That this advice that I do speak
Is truly liveTV: "I come in peace."

"I did invent the morning star!", claims he,
Whose name's known near and far.
As flames did lick the kitchen wall, mother heeded
Helping call. Father said, "See here, it's writ.
T'was Zeke, the one who'd invented it!"

I was scared and unprepared.
There you are...

No matter where you go, from king's front porch,
It's bound to show, to neighbor's court you'll see it's glow.
Those girls atop the steps could quote,
Each, every line that spear shakers wrote
To scrub men's hearts free of fear, you know.

It slipped,
It fell,
And the sun shone on.

In love and battle
These stones on flowers thrown,
These flowers on stones thrown
Men whose bones and broken groans
Now lie beneath all that's above.

And I believe that it was Love,
Not, "No more push and shove,"
That did invent the morning star.

Shine On You Crazy Diamond: Syd Barrett, Founder of Pink Floyd Dies at 60

The article is brief, well written but has a significant error, much to the chagrin of Roger Waters: he's not mentioned as a founding member, or as being a member of Pink FLoyd at all.
ERROR: Paragraph 3, Sentence 1 - "Barrett co-founded Pink Floyd in 1965 with David Gilmour, Nick Mason and Rick Wright, and wrote many of the band's early songs."

Guitarist David Gilmour was not a co-founder of the band, but in fact replaced Barrett, as mentioned later in the article.

Roger Waters, co-founder of the band, is not mentioned at all.

David Gilmour "apparently" - ahem - replaced himself. True, Waters was not as big a talent as Gilmour, but his lyrics are significant, and he's mostly responsible for the Wall album. Please research a bit more carefully, Jill Lawless.

But there'd be no band without Syd. His solo albums aren't too bad. Especially if you like songs about octopusses and carnivals.... Shine On You Crazy Diamond!

Compulsory Letter Home and Email Home and Stuff: From Camp


Come on man, give me my stuff. I mean come on, man... give me my stuff.

OK, so this is the part where some of us remember Summer Camp, or some likeness there of, be it a fat lip or a dumpster full of sweet stuff that... stunk. We like it an' love it but summer camp, was ...

Regardless of the above opinion, I gotta let folks know that I'm glad to see the Homestar Runner crew keeping up with Ice Creams an' and What-nots, fulfilling my summertime needs and finally updating... a thing that they do for... fun.
OK, no sorry stuff, but I waited a long time for what I knew not I was Waiting for but it was like waiting for the rain to end at camp and stuff in the summer and then it finally came with all the potatos and gravy wrestling good ness.... and i ho[pe it stops raining at Camp.

Love your kid; Me

Compulsory Letter

Just a brief note to say hey and stuff. Still on the campaign against the Japanese Knotweed, still on the prowl for Boston English Teacher jobs. Been over a month since a Homestar Runner update, and I'm a bit worried that there is trouble in Strongbadia...

Recent goings on of note: Mad props to Joe DJH Lights for scoring me a ticket to see August Wilson's Gem of the Ocean at the Public. I enjoyed the show and thank you, Joe!

Trip to Buckeye Lake with the lady to visit Kurt Kumler and Kim at heir place on the water, with a little Mikey Mel action thrown in for good measure. We had a great time soaking in the hot tub, swimming around the lilly pads, sipping cervezas, eating guacamole, salsa, steak, bagel breakfast sandwiches, and a cool motor-boat ride around the lake. Good luck with moving to Lexington, KY, kids!

Neighborhood Dish: Apparently a late night or early morning (4AM-ish) shouting fight last week between undisclosed neighbor and his GF, following several alco-bevs, led to GF speeding out of driveway in reverse. GF took car over embankment, onto sidewalk five feet below hitting telephone pole. GF becomes angry when (surprise) car will not move from spot. Neighbor male comes out to continue shouting fight, now armed with new proof of GF's incompetence as driver. Tow truck, fire truck and police vehicles arrive, and amazingly no persons or vehicles are hurt. Question remains as to how GF avoided intoxication charges and if relationship still remains intact. I suspect, "yes," relationship intact still, and rhetorical prowess responsible for dodging fines etc. Let it be known that I heard and witnessed NONE of the above things, but heard them from a reliable source who may have. Before I slept that night, said neighbors were laughing on their porch, and while I slept, airconditioning in my room provided sweet white noise to drown out any horrible sounds.

May both of them never read this post, but always drive safely.

Until next time, Hey and stuff.