Peter and the Wolf

I have somehow acquired two vinyl copies of Prokofiev's "Peter and the Wolf" as narrated by Captain Kangaroo. I get to give one away to a willing recipient of my choosing. This brings me great joy.

Yankees Suck

The New York Yankees suck.
They have always sucked.
They used to suck for not sucking.
It actually sucks when the Yankees actually suck.
It sucks less when the Yankees suck less.
I suck for actually digging it when the Yankees actually suck.
It sucks that no baseball has yet compared to 2004.
My college roommate was from New York
and he sucked because he loved the Yankees and knew his shit
and resented the sucky Sox fans who don't know their shit.
I met this sucky mirror image of myself on the battlefield in 2004
and in the end the lesson learned was not that either team sucked more or less
but that we had witnessed so amazing a battle that all baseball would suck thereafter.

Ward 1 Marijuana Meeting

Now that My Old Lady and I are proud homeowners I have been hounding her about attending a Ward Meeting. Lucky for me our first opportunity was a meeting about Recreational Marijuana. I emailed the following thoughts to my Ward rep. after the meeting.

1. We support a Moratorium until the CCC and state level guidelines are established.
2. We trust in the City Council and Zoning Board to establish city guidelines and expectations during said Moratorium so that they may be swiftly implimented when the State is prepared.  
3. The current Public Health campaign on edible marijuana is borderline fear-mongering and essentially moot because of 21+ statute and our trust in the Zoning Board and City Council to issue permits to reputable licensed establishments.
4. The police force has to evolve and upgrade to cope with legal recreational marijuana wether or not the city proceeds with retail dispensaries.
5. We have faith in our police force's outstanding reputation in the control of 20 local liquor licenses and therefore we trust in their ability to add four marijuana licenses. 
6. We very much do want to be the premiere North Shore destination for any booming industry. 
7. As a homeowner in Gloucester it would cause me pain to drive to Revere or Lynn or Salem and give them the 3% local tax associated with the product.

Old Keys

There is a recurring nightmare where I am a solider sitting at a campfire with a cast iron round ball mold and a pile of old keys. My job is to take the old keys and put them into the mold and hold them over the fire until they melt and form the rounded ball shape of a bullet. There are many keys and many bullets and the fire burns hot.

Watched Pot

I asked the internet,
"How long does boiled water take to cool down?"
I was making pickles.
The answer was,
"Fuck you."

Sunday Morning Elvis Presley

My dad
made us
listen.
Elvis
radio
every
Sunday
on the
ride to
church.

A Sad Letter

how cathartic
compose a letter
never send it
in fact, destroy it

Cherry Tree Emotions

I bought a cherry tree for My Old Lady last year and planted it in a lousy spot. Steve helped me move the cherry tree from the middle of the garden up to the front where she has gotten much more sunlight. Steve said not to expect any fruit this year because she would be in shock. Weeks later while inspecting a lower branch for insects I found a single cherry hidden by big leaves. The cherry was green so I left it for weeks until it was pink and I left it for days and this morning I decided my single cherry was "ready" for me and I went to take a peek.  The cherry is gone.  I hope the animal that ate it choked to death on the pit. This morning I feel sadness and anger about a single cherry, which in turn makes me feel possessive and un-zen and immature.

Under the Influence

“I’m falling asleep. I’m stopping for cigarettes,” I told her as though I was a doctor giving a prescription. 

“You’re just drunk.” She said in a way that stung. 



“You asked me to drive.” 

“I’m drunk too.” She giggled. The sound relaxed my shoulders. 


I pulled into the gas station and made a note that I was parked at pump four because the attendants always get angry with me when I forget.  This particular attendant had stocky shoulders and a square shaped head that I assumed he shaved himself.  He looked down on me literally and figuratively, but did not look me in the eyes as he took my twenty-dollar bill.



“Pack of yellows. Change for twenty, pump four.” I was a doctor again.



“Yeah.” He said in a way that stung.



I was filling the gas tank, but my mind was focused, listening intently to the lyrics of a bad pop song blaring over the cheap outdoor speakers.  If I could remember the progression of bad clichés the conversation might carry us all the way home through the sleepy night.  The last fifty cents worth of gas came out particularly slow and I wanted to ask her about that too, but when I opened the driver side door the passenger seat was empty.

I moved my car away from the gasoline pumps into a parking space around back so I could smoke while I waited for her.  My mind started racing before I even finished unwrapping the plastic. I never have to wait for her. I went back inside and the attendant was looking at naked women in a magazine. He did not look up as I approached him.



“My wife, I think she is using your restroom. Where are they? I’ll probably wait right near them because I moved my car you know and yeah she’d probably see where I’m at now but just to avoid confusion you know…” I rambled until he finally acknowledged me. 

“We don’t have a bathroom.”



I stood silent for a long moment. “I’m looking for my wife,” I said.



“Me too,” he replied without looking up.

“I mean, I was here with my wife.  And she’s not in the car now.  I think she’s using your bathroom.”



“You came in here alone, man. Pack of yellows, change for twenty on four.  And I already fucking told you we don’t have a bathroom.”



“Do you have a security camera on the premises?” I asked him in the serious tone that a doctor might use. 



“No, but you need to get the fuck out of here before I call the cops. You’re drunk.”


I was drunk.  It was the middle of the night.  The cops were the last people I wanted to talk to right now but my wife was missing.  I stepped outside to smoke a cigarette.

Student Recitals 2017

The air was charged with youthful energy.  A young performer cried before the show, two nights in a row.  On Sunday a girl sang 99 Red Balloons and I choked back genuine emotion by twiddling the knobs of the mixing board and focusing on deliberate breaths.  Yesterday the entire room sang along with the choruses of "Hallelujah" and I held back genuine emotion by singing along.  Our students conquered their fears and one played with unexpected grace after dozens of frustrating lessons this past year.  I have a great job.

I tried to be slick and jive the parents hard so they come back next year. I went off on a tangent about how Music is a language, obviously, and the kids learn some math by proxy and about rhyme and about history and perseverance and patience and how to read and how to write and how to listen and even all that is just a shell and the real gem on the inside is this deeper Mystery about vibrations in the air affecting our emotions.

Mint

Last year I planted mint in the front of the Side Garden.  The idea for this location was that passerby Looksie Lou's would not likely be inclined to grab a handful of mint on their way up Fair Street.  This year I am not afraid of Grabby Gus', I actually enjoy the idea that a struggling comrade from my neighborhood may be sustained by one of my tomatoes.

Last month Steve helped me move the cherry tree to the very front of the Side Garden.  The idea for this location is that it is far sunnier than where she was last year.  We decimated the mint bed in the process.  After a few weeks we found a baby volunteer mint plant at the base of the cherry tree and moved it to the very back of the Side Garden.

This morning I was weeding the Snapdragon Lavender in a completely different spot, the corner of the Front Garden.  I noticed another baby volunteer mint plant.  I moved it to the very back of the Side Garden with the other, which by now has begun to grow and spread.  Free mint makes me happy.

Last year's harvest was meager considering the drought.  Four little plants yielded a small jar of dried mint.  The mint tea we made was aromatic and soothing and we cherished it and stretched it to make it last and made big mint plans for this year.

Spring

This spring

Dirt turns me on

and Rain makes me happy.

This spring

I am old. 

March Detox Thoughts 2

Detoxish cleanse not going well.  Realized March 1st was Ash Wednesday.  I am down with hipster diet detox cleanse thing but I am not cool with subconscious or unconscious Catholicism gurgling from the depths of my psyche.  I almost accidentally did Lent.  We caught it early and no one was hurt.

March Detox Thoughts

This month I had the bright idea to cut way back on everything.  Specifically strict about cigarettes & booze.  Less strict about weed, caffeine, gluten, sugar and dairy but they were all on the table.  Or off the table.

I was trying to be cool about the whole thing last night at the bar gig.  I ordered cola from Caroline. She replied, "Coke? What are you sick? You got a cold?"

After the band's raucous opening set I assumed it would be perfectly safe for a sweaty guy to order a cool water in a sweaty bar, to which John replied, "Water? What are you pregnant?" 

Chocolate Covered Potato Chips

We used to live near a fudge and chocolate shop. My favorite treat was chocolate covered potato chips. I used to pay five dollars for a small bag. The shop no longer offers chocolate covered potato chips but this morning (Valentine's Day) on the kitchen counter sat a gift wrapped bag from my old lady. She had made them from scratch in secret while I was at my bar gig. And we promised not to get each other any presents this year. I had hoped to write a song for her but I have not except one line "She knows everybody's sign" which is not a great line except that it is true.

Radio Dreams

We are recording a spot for The Radio today.

The Radio wants us, Renee & Joe, to do our Renee & Joe thing.

Not exactly. The season of Valentine's Day is here and they want us to discuss Love & Marriage and being in a band.

We are going to play "For My Love" from our first record and "Friends" from our second record.

Maybe one or two theoretical listeners will purchase the record digitally in exchange for some digital dollars. A fascinating process, theoretically, though not the end goal.

They ask us: What's it like being married and being in a band together?

My clever answer (never to be spoken aloud): Most musicians are trying to get laid after the gig

The deeper answer: We have no manager, no booking agent, no producers. Our band exists on the fringe of our lives, other bands, and a new home, and our students, all the shit. We love each other so we play our songs for each other and learn each other's songs and write songs together and play gigs together.

Another part of the answer is like those Billy-is-taller-Jeanie-but-shorter-than-Bob math problems from middle school:

-Being in a band is difficult and challenging.
-You have to push.
-You cannot push a marriage.
-Our marriage is more important than our band.

2017: Predictions

Predictions are the worst. I predicted 2016 would be centered around our new home. In fact, the majority of my posts in 2016 are about Trump. Rereading them chronologically is not a pleasant experience.

I am opting to not predict anything about 2017.

I want to improve my self, and our home, and positively effect my community.

I am frustrated with the state for gutting my weed laws. I am a bit nauseated at our country for lacking empathy and being racist and letting the old white mean rich guys win. I feel disappointed with the humans of Earth for being violent for lame reasons for thousands of years.

I still love the Universe though. Earth's moon is beautiful and way back in 150 A.D. Ptolemy gave us 48 classical constellations to memorize.

Precedent of America

My country now excludes people from certain religions and countries. Half the citizens do not mind. I do not feel safer.

Deer

The first deer was understandable. Two thirty in the morning just seems like a nice time to be a deer. Two enormous animals were blocking the path of my truck as I traveled sixty miles per hour northbound towards Gloucester.  One frustrating notion is the idea that I had traveled hundreds of miles through the woods of Maine and New Hampshire, nary a deer in sight, only encountering the beasts upon arriving back into the seaport.

The last mile of highway before the big bridge into the city is all hills.  I came over the asphalt crest, spotted the beasts and veered left with all my might. I felt and heard the impact. I did not want to stop. I did not stop. I did not look back. I made the last two miles home and turned off the truck and did not even look at the damage before going inside and going to bed.

I put in an insurance claim. Five hundred dollar deductible covered two thousand dollars worth of damage to the front bumper and passenger side door. There was deer hair stuck between the broken plastic.

---

The second deer was outrageous. Four in the afternoon is not a proper time for a deer to try and cross route 127. This tiny little bambi bastard was likely committing suicide. The body flung across as the street at about the twenty five miles per hour, flipped on it's side and was spinning in circles as though the pavement were made of ice.

I was in a row of traffic. I had been staring at the license plate of the car in front of me. We were traveling at twenty five miles per hour. I did not want to stop. I was filled with rage. At God and Deer and Cars and Insurance Companies and Plastic and They Way Things Used to Be and also The Way Things Are Now.

I was so pissed. I was at the stoplight and we were going to need groceries so I went to the grocery store and in the parking lot I noticed my license plate was fucked up so I bought some tape inside as well as dinner and taped my license plate back on in the grocery store parking lot before driving home.

The plate is currently connected with bungee cords and they have held strong for a solid week now maybe more. There are plans to repair it. The little deer fucked up my headlight too. Lots of duct tape on that fucker at the moment. I'm too angry to put this through the insurance. I've accepted my new life as a deer killer and the associated costs of maintaining a truck that is properly equipped to really murder those deer real good.