2011

The New Year. Today was the first new year in a long time which I have awoken to without my head throbbing and sweat dripping out of my pores. I saw the dawn and hadn't been awake all night. It was nice. Although, I am nursing a cold, the idea of waking up so many days with a clear head and a lack of headaches is enough to keep on going. My last entry was a love letter to alcohol. It is now 21 days later and I haven't had a drink. The holidays were tough, but not anywhere as tough as I thought they would be. It is strange to write this, but I have a lot more inner-strength than I thought I had.
So, it is with a mix of a middle finger and a long, wet kiss that I bid good-bye to last year and hello to this new one. 2011 just has to better than 2010 was. 2010 was a year which included an unexpected layoff, the death of my beloved dog and family member, Murph, as well as many other significant personal issues. Yet, we carry on and the years change and we move forward. While looking at the brightening sky outside of my window, I thought about all of the crazy shit one goes through in life. The ups and downs, ins and outs, and realized they all come to pass. The good passes and comes to some sort of an end and the bad passes in the same way.
2010 has also been a miraculous year for some of my dear friends. Some got married, some got engaged, some have added new family members to their lives, others bought homes. That is an awesome thing to see and why last year deserves that scrappy, warm, dog-like kiss.
So, good-bye, 2010 and welcome, 2011. Happy New Year to the few brave souls who happen to stumble along these ramblings. I wish you and yours a happy, healthy and fruitful new year!

New Year Haiku:

Lucky eleven
at casinos and tables,
hope for a year, too.

A Love Letter

Dear Alcohol,

It seems like I have known you since birth and perhaps I have. That is all my dad did. Towards the end of mom's life, she did a lot of it, too. I love you so much. You are really warm. You make me feel euphoric, then you make me angry. That is the only feeling I seem to have in my bones when you come to visit. You make me hate myself by far further than any human being could. In fact, Alcohol, you make me fail to recognize that people love and care about me. You make me loathe myself and by loathing myself, I project all of those feelings upon others. It makes them hate me.

Last night, I went to Tip-Top to have my last drink. I fell in love with the place the first time I walked into it. Bed-Stuy. It reminds me of Tina's Cozy Corner in North Philly. I'll never forget walking outside of that bar and seeing a guy pointing a gun at another man in the middle of the street. We went back in, in a hurry.

Back to you, my dear, Alcohol. We have to separate. We have to move on. We have to look for other sources of inspiration. I am done with you.

Best and Love,

Finding Deerhunter

I bought a new pair of headphones this past week and really did my research before purchasing them. After hours of scouring the web and not wanting to spend over a hundred dollars on in-ear headphones, I decided to go with the Klipsch Image s4. I tore through, quite literally, a pair of Bose a couple of years ago and sore I would never purchase in-ears from them again. The reviews for the s4s were astounding and they were only $79. A day before, I downloaded Deerhunter's Halcyon Digest.

I decided to buy the entire album after hearing Helicopter on Conan. Man, I haven't been so excited about finding a band since discovering Pavement in 1992. Since that purchase, I've got three of their albums and have been astounded by each one I listen to. I slipped on my headphones and just, listened. I must say that the phones are pretty fucking amazing, but the music that the band has made is a pleasure to hear on them. It is layered, textured, yet simplistic. They are far different from Malkmus and co., for sure, yet they capture this kind of vibrancy, albeit with much more mellowness than Pavement.

It's funny, I'm double the age I was in 1992 and to just randomly stumble upon a band that hits me is such a great thing.

Check 'em out if you haven't already.

Poem (untitled)

It's been a long time since

a song comes back to you,

defined in a different way than you heard it.

Then, you defined it.

A long time.

Phone rings and you wonder, could it be?

And it is nothing.

Static.

Television shares a favorite film.

Something? Phone?

Nothing.

One cat sits on my lap now,

missing everything about his companion.

He allows me to compensate.

I'm warm.

On the outside.

Cold to the touch inside, if you even get that far.

And if you do, run away.

They all do.

Anyway.

There Is a Time For a Turkey

Happy Thanks-something. It seems like the entire meaning of the day has been misconstrued by anyone who wants to prove a political point these days.

Anyway, I want to discuss the virtues of a turkey, negative as they may be. The turkey has always been a joker, by it's gobble, gobble. Yet, I don't think the bird would find that to be so funny if you really look at it. The beast only used its vocal chords to save other birds from harm. And, damn they can run. They are a kind of modern day emu. Fast, threatened and loud.

The turkey always feels threatened, scared of what is coming to look at it. It feels like all it can do is scream with its red neck flapping, vocal chords extended. It is always in defense and for no reason at times. I'll never forget seeing the plume of one on the wall in a garage in Maryland. So gorgeous. Yet, so dumb.

Even moreso, the poor beast gets the most average name of "Tom." They are more than Toms. They have been here in North America, goofy as they may be, and have thrived upon it's soil for decades.I feel like they are family, those Toms...Dumb, yet fast and always easily caught for some reason.

Way back in kindergarten we used to trace our fingers, add feather to them, glue them on. Those turkeys were unreal because they were perfect. Cookie cut-outs. The real turkeys we ingest on this upcoming day have flaws. They were too loud, they pecked wrongly. They guessed wrong in their get away plan.

They were, sadly, plainly, utterly human.

Unless they were farmed, then they were slaves....

So, to go back to the old style, here is the haiku:

Steeeeeady, not so fast.

If you run, they will break you,

they always catch up.