Westward Bound by the Numbers

Second time in California.

roughly three thousand miles from Boston to my

First time in Los Angeles.

Hoping to escape! before another twenty inches of snow hits.

Super Bowl XLV

Years of hoarded spare change has been gathered for beer money.

My dad used to say, "All it takes is One song."

He still says that.

New Year's Revolution

I don't believe in New Year's resolutions, but the people I know with yearly gym memberships are not fond of them. There are long lines for every machine this time of year...

2010 was the year I made the Leap. I certainly did not resolve to. I'm still breathing all these months later, so it appears to have been the correct decision.

2010 rolled right into 2011. Again, no proper resolutions. Too daunting. I'd rather think about how I can make myself better Today. That said, I imagined 2011 to be a year of Growth through Regimented Discipline. To reinforce the same principals that allowed the Leap, and to make it stick.

Daily scheduled practice, fresh fruit, jazz standards and pushups were all considered vital.

Here we are ten days and a fortnight into the New Year, and nay has anything been pushed.

In fact, I've found that Growth is the exact inverse of Effort. That is to say, when I plaster the area schools with posters, or pimp myself to Craigslist and Facebook, the return is nothing. When I hang and watch MacGyver reruns on DVD, the whiteberry blows up with incoming emails, potential gigs and new students aching to begin their studies...

Goals are evolving. The new plan is to Survive the Winter and it's brutal effects on my psyche and wallet. When the sun returns in the spring I will re-evaluate, and I look forward to that.

Being Human Beings

A third consecutive playoff loss by the Patriots made me wonder if any other species gets this worked about a game.

Her nephew cried after the Helmet Catch. He was a too old to be crying, but it was ok. We understood. I still cannot listen to "Free Falling" without being back there. I hate that song now.

I turned off the radio for weeks after last year's debacle and who knows what will happen Now. I'm not even ready to talk about it yet...

But the whole process made me theorize that part of this somehow relates to What Makes Us Human.

I don't believe monkeys or dolphins would rally around an activity that has no real 'purpose' in terms of survival. Certainly not for 18 straight weeks.

I've heard that having thumbs is also quite far up the list of Things That Make Us Human.

and the Realization of Death must be unique to humans as well? Do other species know that they will eventually die?

The Patriots certainly didn't...

Snow Mountains of Ipswich after Midnight

Three times now I have encountered the Snow Mountains of Ipswich after midnight.

Winter in New England will freeze your jaw shut into a permanent frown. The cold air will burn your lungs so that only bitter sarcasm exhales. Fingertips bleed and hope fades into dirty snowbanks.

The first encounter was around 1 or 2 in the morning after a gig. Down the main road we see flashing lights, little machines and big machines flinging snow, and the largest piles of snow I've ever seen, right in the middle of the road. We weaved, zigged and zagged our way around the mountains, machines and madness, through the post-apocalyptic grey fog and eventually out the other side.

The second time I was alone and the path could not be passed. I sat staring at the giant snow pile, awestruck. Perhaps I was waiting for a savior, a magical Foreman that would steer me safely to Rowley. I realized eventually how silly it was to be sitting and watching the manmade mountain. I turned around and weaved home through the back roads.

Nearly two feet of had been dumped on us the day before last. We dug out and shook off and went back to Work the following day, and the band played that evening. Last night.

I came around the bend, towards the home stretch and there it was again. The monster. The spinning lights and whirling treads and impassable snow mountains. I rolled down my window and yelled, "WHY?" into the night, turned right around and headed towards the back roads I now know all to well.

Why do they put giant snow piles in the middle of the main road after midnight, two days after the storm has hit? The comment section below is open to the masses, ideally a representative from the Town of Ipswich's Department of Public Works.

Poem: Up the Chain

The dentist drove drunk

woke up in the pocket of the patrolman

that paid off the sergeant

who lost it playing poker with the captain

everyone knew was on the mayor's payroll

your local congressman oversees

under direct order from the senator

I heard has a toothache

and wants it fixed for free

Oh Baby

My friend had a baby and her name is Madeline Grace and she is a beautiful little nugget. His parents are now grandparents and they are downright pumped about that change.

Babies make me feel uneasy. Even with all the happiness that inevitably surround them. I'm sure this feeling will pass.

The "why" to the uneasiness is obvious. Responsibility of the highest degree. Exponential selflessness. Shitty diapers. I'm not ready for any of these things.

Sitting next to this little angel, when I should have been at real peace, my mind was engulfed in this Fear, and my train of thought raced backwards into time, and I theorized that:

"Throughout history, the majority of men would have had a baby OR killed a man, by age 25"

This was true for about 25,000 years, since Homo Sapiens reached behavioral modernity...

until the 60's or 70's... right?

And maybe my theory is less true over the last 40 years than the 24,960 years before that...

But the fact remains that I currently have no desire for either making babies or killing people. Which makes me feel a disconnect to Society, in a historical sense, and it's not a good feeling.

It's worth reiterating - I'm sure this feeling will pass. Until then though, I don't really want to hold your baby. Congratulations though... it's beautiful.