Shep Abbott: Art & Space

One of the earliest musical performances my old lady & I had together was in Gloucester

(a lifetime ago)

Open Mic at ARTSPACE 

a lifetime later we ran into Shep and made the connection 

and now we jive whenever we cross paths.

I recently realized the weird street signs on the island were his

and that they were being stolen,

regularly...

------

Hi Shep - I've been thinking about your signs and the people that steal them, and a comment that you made that "it's part of the process" and I'm wondering if you want to comment on that further (for my blog)? Thanks - Joe!

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Joe, thanks for your interest. I'm not sure what happens to the signs. It may be malicious destruction. It may be flattering theft. It may be "official" removal by Public Works. Whatever it is, I'm surprised no one contacts me since my email is always on the sign. I'm interested in "public art" because it seems to have a visceral, human impact. I once hung a giant 30' fishing net up high in swamp maples in Dogtown with the phrase "Dream of Love" knitted into it with brightly colored ribbons. It was very beautiful. When the afternoon sun hit it way up in the trees, it was like a giant spider's web with this simple message, Dream of Love which was a real dream I had once. Well, someone went to a great deal of trouble to climb up, rip it down and take it away. A man called me to say he thought it was a "cult". I don't know who it was. I put up a yellow street sign near the Willowrest restaurant not long ago. The sign read "Slow Geezers", kind of a joke on "Slow Children" signs and what with Boomers and all. Just a joke. I even wrote on the back of the sign, "Painted by a Geezer" because, as a matter of fact, I will be 70 on Saturday. Nevertheless, it was torn down, perhaps by an irate Geezer. I really like public art; I think it's great to put stuff in public that is completely unexpected and, hopefully, fun. I'm not interested in making any "political statement" or pissing anyone off. But, let's face it, life can get pretty, well, predictable these days. So, to me, I kind of see the outside, public world as a kind of "museum" where, instead of folks having to decide to come to see your work somewhere, well, it just suddenly shows up! And it's a total mystery as to how the Hell it got there and what the Hell it means and who the Hell would go to the trouble to do that? It just makes life a little less predictable, even if you don't like it and decide to rip it down. A lot of other people get a kick out of it before it disappears. And then, if people like it, it doesn't take a lot of effort to make another sign (although, to be honest, the signs are pretty well done). [You can reprint this if you like.]

for Henry (ARod Answers)

Joe,

Give me your opinion on the A Rod doping scandal please.

Love

Henry

---------------------------

Henry

Baseball and cheating go together like hot dogs and mustard.

Off the top of my head, here are some of Baseball's easily-googled scandals throughout history:

-Shoeless Joe Jackson and Chicago White Sox (Editor's Note: 1919) (Editor's Note part 2: Field of Dreams) 

-Pete Rose in the 80s

-Cocaine in the 80s

-Speed / Uppers / "Greenies"

-even spitballs and doctoring the ball is a part of the game. some people thought our guy was dousing his hair with extra gel and smearing that on the ball as recently as a couple months back. 

besides the history of rampant cheating I believe that athletes ultimately destroy their bodies to play anyways (the same way we will destroy our hearing as musicians) 

A-Rod has sucked for a while now.  I think some professional athletes take steroids and still suck. 

Realizing baseball players take steroids was like realizing WWF was fake.  I was young at the time.  It bummed me out for a while.  back then.   

How is the purity of cricket?

Joe

Batmanalysis (and Baseball)

you cannot quantify art.

but I believe the Batman franchise to be a Powerful Force in cinematic history

we were trying to hash it out and having a difficult time the last time one of these was on the ole TV

so later a chart was contrived for my own benefit, to look at all the information at once

it was lying there today, a near victim of a hurricane houseclean

this post is a two fold solution, to digitally capture it's glory so the original can be destroyed, and to share it with You.

TITLE - DIRECTOR - BATMAN - LEADING LADY - VILLIAN - BUDGET/BOX - RATIO

Batman - Burton - Keaton - Basinger - Nicholson - 48M / 411M - 8.56
Returns - Burton - Keaton - Phiffer - Devito - 80M / 266M - 3.33
Forever - Schumaker - Kilmer - Kidman - Lee Jones/Carey - 100M / 336M  - 3.36
And Robin - Schumaker - Clooney - Thurman/Silverstone - Arnold - 140M / 238M - 1.7
Begins - Nolan - Bale - Holmes - Neeson/Murphy - 150M / 374M - 2.49
Dark Knight - Nolan - Bale - Gyllenhaal - Ledger/Eckhart - 185M / 1004 M - 5.42
Rises - Nolan - Bale - Hathaway - Hardy - 250M / 1084M - 4.35

The ratio number is Box / Budget aka if I invest one clam how many clams do I get back

I'm not posting any conclusions
only gathered information
the analysis is all your own
because you cannot quantify art

*p.s. this applies to baseball too.  the Statistical Revolution and tendencies and averages are Interesting and So Cool but at the end of the day it's a Human holding a ball trying to hurl it past another Human who is holding a chunk of wood and they're both probably on steroids but that's ok because Tens of Thousands of other Humans are watching which changes Everything and this is pretty much Art too so none of that research matters buddy sorry about those man hours you put into that and Thanks for the pretty numbers

Steal You Flowers

at least a week I've been gone

smell like booze and worse

got a feeling you're still mad

about the money I took from your purse

-

patching up the holes i made 

is going to take us hours

I'm not coming home empty handed

I'm going to steal you flowers

-

The lady down the way will give me daisies

She likes the way you sing and knows I'm lazy

And old man up the road, I know where his roses grow

I can get three or four, if I sneak up slow
-

ain't the first time I've done wrong

ain't gonna be the last

your sister said mister pack your bags

but you keep taking me back

-

ain't got no more money

ain't got super powers

but I know better than to come home empty handed

I'm going to steal you flowers 

The Battle of Rowley, Part 2: Criteria

the control in the experiment will be my selection: small strawberry

which will allow us to measure:

1) cost
2) quantity
3) quality of ingredients
4) customer service

something was missing

the magical whimsy of ice cream
time travel through tastebuds, instant innocence (instant Summer)
certainly worth measuring for this experiment

my old lady recommended we bring a Young Child with us 

gauge their response

I dig the idea
that one of our controls
would be a variable

anti-science.

------------------

worth noting that within all these intricate plans
are weekly trips to White Farms

Reduction2

"Treat others as you want to be treated" - Mom

I love this quote because it is Flawless.

and if you threw every aspect of every religion into a big pot

and let it boil
for days

this quote is all that would be left.

An Uninvited Visitor

Rowley, MA was not happy that I referred to it as "not that Cool"
so it spit us an uninvited visitor this weekend

1230a is technically Sunday morning but to us it was very much Saturday night
another split squad day, separate gigs
and by this time we were both Home,
unwinding and recounting the day's journeys behind us

thus our house was lit up, probably the only house on the street
maybe the only house for miles
which is why he chose us.

a timid knock on the door and drunken mumbling.

we share a puzzled stare but i'm in underoos and race for pants
by the time I open the door the knocker has gone.
I don't look around very hard.

we talk inside.
doesn't fit the m.o. of the old man next door or his son (who is also an old man)

after a short period of time (Editor's Estimate: 1-3 minutes) a voice through an open window

"I'm sorry to startle you, I need help, can I use your phone?"

My old lady jumps and says, "Whaaaaaaaa"

I open the door and there's a pretty tall guy with a shaved head and tattooed arms.

"I was with my friends and we had an argument and I walked off like a jerk and now I have no idea where I am can I use your phone?"

and he says other things like "I know it was silly" and "I'm sorry to bother you" over and again
and I can tell he's trying to be calm but I can also tell what people strung out on drugs look like.

I hand him my flip phone and he fiddles with his wallet for a while, and pulls out a business card for Viking Taxi.

He asks the Viking how much a ship from Here to There will be and then shakes his head, "no no no, that's no good."

I retrieve my phone and he asks how to get to the convenience store.  It's literally left on the road.  LEFT.  That's it.  He doesn't really get it though and wonders if I have a smart phone, so that he can see a map.  Visualize it, he says.

Then he asks if I had a phone book.
but it gets Weirder.

next he says he's heard that Rowley dogs will pick you up for walking.

he pulls out a crisp $20 and asks if I can drive him to the previously mentioned convenience store.

but my Old Lady is listening intently, right inside the door and comes out with a big "Noooooooooooo" and a crisp "ope" on the end
shoos him away like he was a stray dog.
She did not say "Git" or "Go on now" but she might as well have.

I like helping people but you can't just shout into stranger's windows demanding smartphones and phone books and assistance evading police. I'm only down with real Action like that on rare occasions, with people I trust.

The Moral of the story is that everything I write on this blog will eventually be Wrong and that's O.K.

with a submoral that
Rowley, MA: you are pretty Cool

The Battle of Rowley, Part 1: Backstory

Rowley, MA is not that Cool of a town

(but the Price was right, so was the Location)

Good Luck if you want Anything in Rowley after 9p
you are not able to acquire it here. Every store has closed.

but if you are Antiquing or in need of Breakfast:
Welcome to Rowley!

the best fringe benefit of our new pad was ice cream

fairly priced, large portions of homemade bliss: WHITE FARMS

we have done the Ice Cream Test already, right when we moved in

for Fun 

to introduce the old lady to my childhood stomping grounds

and to advocate for the devil

because we knew White Farms would destroy the competition 

and they did. 

a few years and dozens of perfect ice creams later,

at least 3 spots have opened recently: 

-Peachwave on Route 1 northbound

-Down River on Route 1 southbound

-fairly certain there is another ice cream spot opening in the Pizza Factory plaza

and a second round of testing feels inevitable

only this time the process will be documented.  I will pretend to have journalistic integrity and ask the managers to comment on my experiment, if they believe their product will hold up.  "Good Afternoon, I demand to speak to your manager immediately, I'm from the Joeyjives blog and need just a moment to have sensitive questions answered..."  

or maybe I'll do it secretly, cop the phantom gourmet's bit...

coming soon maybe:

Part 2: Criteria

Part 3: Testing

Part 4: Analysis

Part 5: Inevitably returning to White Farms and regretting the time away

Time Perception and the Zamboni

There were at least a couple times in my life where I have been legitimately interested in a hockey game

and the intermissions while the ice was cleaned seemed to take forever.

Forever.

Recently, when the local hockey teams championship run infringed on a weekly musical performance, the venue and band compromised: to not perform during game action, and to fill the intermissions with song. 

We would begin as soon as the period ended, and we would stop as they approached the face off circle to begin the next one.  We played as much as possible,

and the time flew by.

Flew.

Moral: maybe Time Perception is more psychology than neuroscience (?)

If I Die In Rowley (at least I will die free)

Two in the morning

headed home from the gig

where Route 133 crosses Old Route 1

and the lights are ON
at the Rowley Psychic
$10 Special

and this idea buries itself in my brain
there's no spirit in particular I'd want to conjur at the moment
but why are the lights on right now?

even though the car is still physically headed towards home
I can't stop considering how much fun it would be to even try
BUT by the time I decide go for it, I'm way too close to home, passing the flea market

although the real action won't begin until sunrise
I see few scramblers setting up shop under floodlights
and wrangling them up seems like a Fun idea too

post gig adrenaline. the psychic. the flea market. What would Hunter Thompson do?  Ride the second wind for the sake of Journalism?  Go home and pour a drink and fabricate the story?

if I go to the flea market right now at least $20 of the $100 earned tonight will be used on some Thing, just to write about the guy I bought it from, and the haggling process.  I do not need this Thing.

******

the tires screech in a U-Turn and I push in the cigarette lighter, one of the few remaining perks in this old truck.  Not smoking is not an option before a two am meeting with a psychic in Rowley.

I rap on the door and she answers in yellow woolen robe.  it is cleaner than I would have expected if I'd known she was going to answer the door in a robe.

"Seriously?"

Her question is intense but her face expressionless.  She looks tired, but not because of the hour.

"Good Morning Ma'am.  I must talk to the ghost of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson.  Immediately.  I'm hoping you'll honor the $10 Special advertised in the window?"

It was a long time before she answered me.  She spoke matter of factly, after first letting out a long sigh.

"The Good Doctor killed himself.  It seems like you know that already.  His spirit is in perpetual torment.  You may not want to hear what he has to say."

******

"Twenty dollars?"

Neither of us are buying his faux-outrage, I only wonder why his accent seems so Southern.  We are in Massachusetts.  There was a  R where I expected an H.  It sort of dragged, then caught the S on the way by.  Dollarrrsssss.

The sun would be coming up soon.  Going over budget was Not an option.  Not after the Instructions we had received.

"Aw shucks man, your girl really wants it, plus I paid at least FIFTY for that. I can't let it go for at less that that, right?"

His voice bobbed like a damn frog, making the question seem as though he was addressing a child.

Ro-ight?

"Jimbo, lets get one thing straight she's not my Girl.  My old lady is at home asleep not far from here, but I'd never tell you in which direction.  This woman is my personal Psychic, and from tonight on will be a salaried member of my Team.  We are on a mission concerning the Spirit World.  We MUST purchase this vinyl Eat A Peach, we must listen to all 33 minutes of Mountain Jam, and although you are welcome to join us, we MUST pay you TWENTY dollars. These terms are from the Doctor himself and completely out of our hands."

She pulled the yellow bath robe up around her neck, and shivered it bit, then turned to the man behind the table.  "Jimbo, did your Ma wear glasses?"  Her accent suddenly seemed slower and Southern too.

His aluminum can hit the ground and beer splashed everywhere for a moment, then slowly started pouring onto the dirt.  He made no attempt to pick it up.

The Meaning of Life (draft 2)

Facets That Seem Important (to me, so far) In Determining the Meaning of Life:

condensed: from Draft 1, composed Sept 2012
and a Jan 2012 posted entitled Spoiler Alert

-Self-Discovery / Acceptance
-Charity
-Awareness of Mortality
-Perception vs. Reality
-Karma / Connectedness
-Environment / Earth / Universe
-Family
-The Creator
-Thumbs

I moved The Creator a little further down the list from last time, but don't think She will take offense

I want to add FLUIDITY: if you zoom in to look at the smallest of smallest particles, they're zooming around AND if you zoom out to look at the biggest of biggest planets and systems, they're zooming around too.  That leads me to believe that nothing is stagnant.  Ch-ch-changes, so to speak...

I also want to add these:

-No one knows why we're here
-No one knows what happens when we die

That's pretty rad.  Billions and billions of cats throughout the history of the world and not one can answer either of those two question.  That seems important.

If You've Got Them: An Open Letter to The Cigarette Companies

The best thing that developed out of a failed surgery one year ago

is that I was instructed to stop smoking for 2 weeks prior to surgery and 2 weeks post

one year has passed and I have not smoked a single cigarette

which inspired me to write this:

*****

Dear The Cigarette Companies,

 I haven't smoked a cigarette in one year.

 If they were less expensive that probably wouldn't be true.

Love,
Joe

Knowledge is Infinite

Recently I can't shake the idea

that every piece of NEW information or knowledge

comes with an EXPONENTIAL amount of information or knowledge that I don't yet understand

my analogy for this situation is that of a map of a level in a video game:

the map is dark except the square you are on and a few squares around you.  as you advance, your character moves one square at a time but the map is illuminated ten squares at a time, and you begin to see all your different options.

and you'll never hit them all
because this particular map goes on infinitely

A Shouted Conversation With the Youth of Gloucester Concerning the Earth

It was Saturday night, half past midnight. (Editor's Note: It was Sunday morning)  The city was jammed earlier in the evening when we loaded in, so the truck was parked down at the Harbor Loop.  Retrieving the vehicle was a nice walk after a nice gig.  Until...

We came up on the loop and there was a truck full of youths. I could see the driver and the passenger in the back seat on the drivers side, who promptly dropped an empty junk food bag out of the window.

The driver yelled at us, "Do you know where to get bait?"

I was semi-disgusted by the littering and began to walk away when the driver yelled for a second time, "HEY, do you know where to get BAIT?"

and I yelled back "You shouldn't litter"

and the passenger in the back seat on the drivers side said, "What are you gonna do, write me a ticket?"

and I yelled back "You shouldn't litter"

and the passenger in the back seat on the drivers side said, "Fuck you"

and I said, "Fuck me? You're the one who littered..."

and they drove off, continuing to abuse the Earth, I assume.

Comparing Historical Family Medical Diagnosis

One of the better things we've learned about each other in eighteen months of marriage

is that when we were growing up

upon smelling a fart in the room

my Dad would say, 

"if you're sick, go to the Hospital..." 

and 20 miles away 

her Mom would say,

"that means you're Healthy..."

My View of Bruce Tobey's View

A hotel is coming to Gloucester.

The Pro-Hotel people (henceforth "The Greedheads") have been in a fierce battle with the Anti-Hotel people (henceforth "The Hippies")

Bruce Tobey (former mayor, current City Council) wrote an open letter, posted in the Gloucester Times.  The reaction by the hippies via social media is what caught my attention.

(Worth Noting: I'm torn on the issue. A big ugly hotel would be big and ugly.  That said, whenever my in-laws come to town they have to crash at their daughters' house.)

Mr. Tobey, your so-called View is a steaming pile of bullshit.

Our chief financial officer has prepared a conservative estimate of the annual revenue stream that will flow to the City when the hotel is up and running. Real estate tax payments, meals tax receipts, and room tax revenues will generate more than $750,000 per year for our local government.

Are you going to stand by this theoretical 750k when the actual figures are tallied?  Your quote has a nice way of pre-empting any possible blame to your Chief Financial Officer.  Well played.

The city is about to embark on a multi-million dollar reconstruction of the water and sewer systems that serve the Fort. Construction of the hotel will generate the payment to the city of many of those dollars, some from the developer and others from a state economic development grant prompted by the hotel’s construction. 

Your city is about to embark on a multi-million dollar sewer system reconstruction project that is supposed to be paid for by a hotel that doesn't exist yet?

The hotel’s business plan has clearly demonstrated that its operation will create 150 jobs for a city with an unemployment rate higher than the state average.

Two fair points, but they are not connected.  You cannot guaruntee these 150 jobs will go to Gloucester residents.  Can you?

A well-established team has come forward with a concrete plan to create a building and a business that would enhance any community, and it has been identified by other entrepreneurs as a lynchpin to their efforts to launch us into a bright new biosciences-based economic future. That future will be jeopardized by continued opposition.

 If your team is as well-established as you describe, why would they back down in the face of opposition?  If they can't stand the heat in the kitchen perhaps their plan is not as concrete as you think.

 In summation: The Hippies said that your rallying of the masses to angrily confront them was an indirect attack on their First Amendment rights, and they wanted to sue you.  I told them to tear apart your half-assed letter instead.  They didn't, so I did.

Knights of Rock

Adapted from an idea The Mailman had and gave me permission to adapt. 

-----------------------------------------------------------

On May 1st, 2013 the city of London was attacked. By large dragons.

Buildings were destroyed and many people died, including Kate Middleton, Prince Harry, Gordon Ramsay, Simon Cowell, and David Beckham. David Beckham definitely died. 

The following day we learned that small dragons had been attacking the countryside of England, killing civilians. This story was not as widely reported. 

still Prince William had no choice, he had to call upon the only people who could save his countrymen and hopefully his job too: 

The Knights of Rock

-Sir Elton John

-Sir Paul McCartney

-Sir Mick Jagger

P: Listen up chaps

E: How come you're in charge?

M: Keith killed a dragon once

E: Mick the adults are talking now why don't you go into the other room and practice your dance moves

P: Thanks Elton. I'm in charge because Prince William said so before that dragon ate him. 

E:  Where do you think these dragons are coming from? 

P:  Romania.

E:  Great that's really helpful. Wait... how do you know that?

P:  Harry Potter.

E: (sighs) Now I know why Bowie refused...

Ian:  Sorry I'm late! 

E:  Sir Ian McKellan!  Thank God you're here and also wearing your Gandalf robes.

I:  Mick, shape up and use your giant lips to breathe fire back AT the dragons.  Paul, get ready for battle, grab your Wings.  Elton, come with me... 

coming soon maybe...Knights of Rock Part 2: A Plea to David Bowie

An Open Letter to Mr. Pittella: Why Did We Watch Braveheart in 6th Grade?

Mr. Pittella

 Braveheart came on the cable tv recently

 rewatching movies these days I pull up the laptop.  who directed this film?  what was the budget to box office ratio?  any quirky production or casting facts?

 and what I came across for Braveheart is this: 

 one of the most historically inaccurate movies of all time

 The dichotomy of this fact vs. my introduction to the film being in your sixth grade class was not lost on me, and the first question my mind asked itself was, What would Mr. Pittella say about all this fifteen years later?

 Why did we watch Braveheart in your class?

---------------------------------

 The other thing I remember about sixth grade was a kickball game against Mr. Nodelman's class. 

 We gambled in the currency of middle school:  the losing class would have to buy the winning class pizza, and lots of it. 

 Pittella, you had us in lines doing jumping jacks outside their windows while they were studying. I remember.

 we got weird, we psyched them out and we won. 

 we won bad and we ate their pizza.

 Did Nodelman make his kids pay or did he ante up himself?*

 The moral of the story is that you can't facilitate sixth graders gambling on a kickball game in America anymore. I'm glad we grew up in a different world and had that opportunity.

*I asked two friends from Nodelman's class:  

The Dancer couldn't remember and she said "he hated me cause i called him mr. noodlebutt" 

The Mailman said "I don't remember paying but I can't imagine Nodelman putting up the cash. I think you could say we had to pay." 

An Undercover Police Officer At Georgetown High School: 10 Years Later (v2 submitted to the Georgetown Record)

Dear GHS Class of 2003,

Do you remember ten years ago, when there was an undercover police officer at Georgetown High School?

It was a secret operation that only three people knew about, the Superintendent, the Chief of Police and the undercover officer herself. One math teacher was quoted after the busts went down, devastated because he had thought she was the best math student he ever had.

The mission was for the officer infiltrate the school as a "student" and to determine which students were selling drugs. 

The definition of entrapment is:

The act of government agents or officials that induces a person to commit a crime he or she is not previously disposed to commit.

This is why I can't shake the dirty feeling, ten years later. The officer wasn't offered drugs by these children, she searched them out.  She ended up with small amounts of marijuana and pills.  Even that wasn't easy to scrape that up.  That was months of work. On our dime (rather, our parents).  

Yet I remember 6-10 kids being expelled. The Administration wrote letters to schools in the surrounding area recommending they don't take them in. Someone decided denying their education was surely the best way to help these kids.

I wonder why no prominent lawyers stepped in to protect them, or at least push the issue, ask some questions of the police and school about their motives. 

I assume they have all been better off without a High School that would hire the police for a secret mission to entrap them.  

I wonder if they will be invited to their 10 Year Reunion this summer and I wonder if they will be in the mood for attending.  

An Undercover Police Officer at Georgetown High School: 10 Years Later

My distrust of The Government began ten years ago when there was an undercover police officer at Georgetown High School.

It was a secret operation that only three people knew about (One math teacher was quoted after the busts went down, saying that he was devastated because he had thought she was the best math student he ever had)

Larry Borin - Superintendent of Schools at the time 

Richard Spencer - Chief of Georgetown Police Department at the time

Undercover Police Officer (known henceforth as Ladycop) 

Ladycop's mission was to infiltrate the school as a "student" and to determine which students were selling drugs. 

The definition of entrapment is:

The act of government agents or officials that induces a person to commit a crime he or she is not previously disposed to commit.

and that is basis of my beef. Ladycop wasn't offered drugs by these children, She searched them out.  She ended up with some weed and a few pills.  Even that wasn't easy to scrape up.  That was months of work. 

and yet I remember 6-10 kids being expelled. The Administration wrote letters to schools in the surrounding area recommending they don't take them in. 

Following up with the involved parties and asking them about this ordeal from the past would be Difficult and Emotional.  I'm not going to do that.  I don't see any reason to pry.  I assume they were all better off without a High School that would hire the police for a secret mission to entrap them.  

I wonder if they will be invited to their 10 Year Reunion this summer and I wonder if they will be up for going.  

I wonder why no prominent lawyers stepped in to protect these kids, or at least push the issue, ask some questions of the police and school about their motives. all I remember is a puff piece in the Georgetown Record lauding the efforts of the police.

Then again I don't check many facts, I never made it to the Library and the story is just old enough that nothing at all exists on the internet.  

If you know someone involved and they want to share their side of the story please send them my way, for some reason I can't shake the memory and enjoy discussing it. 

Christmas Tree Follow Up: 4 Months Later

Back in December 2012 my old lady wrote an essay about how we were going to adopt a baby potted pine tree for Christmas, instead of slaughtering (or embracing the slaughter of) a living tree.

The baby potted pine tree lived in the house these past four months, but not well.  She was rarely fed and never talked to and didn't get much sunlight either. 

I noticed her brown & bare spots and felt shame.  Then I remembered the hole.  

There was a hole in our backyard when we moved in.  I started filling it with grass clippings after mowing the lawn, eventually adding biodegradable food trash as well. 

so I gave the hole a modest stir with a shovel.  I bought a bag of fancy dirt, recommended by the unlucky garden store clerk who had to hear my sad tale of neglect.  I unplugged the baby pine from her potted existence, plucked her into the hole and surrounded her with the fancy dirt.

And there she sits.  I look at her proudly on occassion, although I honestly have no idea if my transplant worked or not. 

time will tell. 

Marathon Thoughts 3: Summation(?)

EDITOR'S NOTE: These are my notes from the evening of Friday April 19th, written during the press conference BEFORE they caught the kid.  I did not post them in the moment because of the inherent negativity.  I debate posting them now for the same reason.  They are followed by my thoughts this morning.

Rough presser on both sides of the podium.

Lieutenant Colonel Alben, Superintendent of the Massachusetts State Police, looks angry and confused. He admits to knowing Nothing several times.

Deval Patrick and Mayor Menino haven't missed a press conference yet throughout the ordeal, and I don't mean that in a good way.

My screen is split, the podium on the left, an image of the kid on the right.  I'm having trouble buying in from this picture.  They should have found one where he was looking meaner.  or sadder.

A recap of FACTS I gleaned from this particular press conference:

1) The kid got away
2) The "stay in your home" mandate has been lifted
3) The MBTA is back online effective immediately
4) They are adding 10 stateys to every shift in Watertown, three times a day, through Monday

When asked if the additional manpower suggest they think the suspect is still in Watertown, Alben replied, "No."

When it came time for the Last Question someone shouted "How did he get away" and I shouted at my television "How was that not the first question?"

--------------------------------

Of course, the russian kid was very much still in Watertown, secretly trying to die alone and in peace, inside of a winterized boat he had slithered into.

There will be a million theories.  (He's the bottom rung of a Terrorist Cell!  Muslim Attack!  I personally expected it to be a Fat Guy who hated marathon runners)

It will be hard to avoid the darkness of the past week.  Can we return to normalcy without stopping at revenge and hatred along the way?  I hope so.

but if things were normal I wouldn't be writing this, I'd have been patting myself on the back about my 200th post (this one).

Marathon Thoughts 2: Spun

I'm spun. 

Part of me would like to omit this from the blog altogether. Hole up and not write for a while until it blows over.

Because it's hard to organize these thoughts, when your mind is spinning uncontrollably...

******

I am down on Smart Phones but am inspired at how they helped keep people safe. 

(I'm also listening to a civilian's recording of the audio from last night's gun fight while I compose this. what a world) 

I am down on Surveillance but am intrigued at how a Shoplift (Fear) Cam helped catch these monsters. 

I've admonished The News and the fear-mongering of the contemporary mini news cycle. I don't believe half of what I'm seeing and yet I cannot look away. 

I'm not afraid. I was afraid for a long time after 9/11 but won't be this time. 

I'm not angry. I'm disappointed. 

I was upset they killed the Older Brother. I would have liked to hear his side of the story.

I don't feel a stronger connection to Boston now. This bomb exploded in North Dakota and Kansas just as much as it exploded at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. 

I hope we don't start a Ten Year war with Russia. LOL. 

I'm spun. 

Marathon Thoughts 1: Mission Creep

the tendency for a task, esp a military operation, to become  

 unintentionally wider in scope than its initial objectives

The bombing at the Marathon was horrifying.

There's a Fred Rogers quote that he attributed to his Mother, who told him in times of great disaster to "Look for the helpers"

they were certainly there at the Finish Line.  Look for them when graphic images bombard you.  They will be there.

*****

Scarier to me now is that Wheel of Violence will only continue to spin

(maybe it's never stopped)

somewhere in Massachusetts today a teenage boy ponders a family member who lost a life or limb

and that boy will muster up the courage over the next several years to join the Army

and eventually he'll find himself in a country that has nothing to do with the Boston Marathon

and he will be assigned the task of killing people.  that will be his job.

because of this madness he'll probably be willing to do it.

To me that is scarier than a pressure cooker full of nails. 

Chronicles of Wasted Potential: Bet On Your Baby

Bet On Your Baby was right up my alley. in my mind.

The title implied that Gambling would be a central theme of the show. Check.

I assumed the clientele would be Struggling-Wannabe-Hollywood-Actors-with-Kids,

and I imagined how much Satisfaction I would get from watching these horrible people pimp out their children to the Television

for what: a cash prize, a new car, a union card...

my hopes were high until the show actually started.  mere seconds in and I knew we were doomed.

they kept alluding to a "College Fund" the cash prize was seemingly connected too.  There would be no news reports 5 years from now about parents squandering the prize money the children had earned. Damn.

the host is an obnoxious woman and the first Mother was equally wretched. the baby was adorable but her husband was an immasculated shell of man who quickly hopped into a pink ballerina's tutu, just to get off stage and away from the two horrible women.

the editing was so poor in the Very First Game (a countdown clock, a poorly generated "dramatic" finish) that my old lady and I both vomited and vowed to never watch television again without waiting thirty minutes after dinner.

Excerpts From A Public Discussion Regarding Written Music (or perhaps something deeper)

(Editor's Note: This conversation was not at all hostile, as most public forums tend to be. I admire the man who started this discussion, but not for that reason. Authors here are initialed because the identities are insignificant. I don't know most of these cats. I've pulled my favourites from this discussion and left them chronological, if only to accent how late I joined the party)

Cliffs Notes personal background, aka: why Joey's simple status hit home so hard:

-Dad taught me to play by ear.
-self schooled thereafter in punk rock.
-wrote letters above every note of walking basslines to survive jazz band SENIOR YEAR in high school
-felt childish because of this
-honed reading skills
-took every sight reading bass class Berklee offered (because there was no homework. You just had to sight read)
-still enjoy flipping open the book to a tune I don't know, pulling up the audio online, giving a listen and reading it down, then trying to play it.

JUjr: I hope I never learn how to read music. I mean, given that attitude, I doubt I will. But still.

ESR: there is nothing that you can know that you will be a worse/less creative musician for knowing

JUjr: I have no use for it. You can do it. I choose not to. I tried a bit to. It's just none of my business. Charts are for dorks. Math is dumb

CC: math is for people. so is music. don't put us down

JUjr: It's true. But it's more fun to ignorantly whack away at them. Reading music is like reading spoilers. I don't wanna know how it ends!

JOEYJIVES: If you read tabs you read music if you jot down chords on a napkin then play them later than you read music don't argue against knowledge MAN it's not becoming

CS: It's not for everyone. I think it was Dizzy Gillespie who said he liked to play with mostly "ear players". You need to be able to mark a chart to compose and arrange for a few different instruments tho.

JUjr: I get where you're coming from. And it's worked well for you. And you're one of the cooler ppl I've known and don't really have the 'tude of people who can read. And you joe are an ear player who can read well. It's different for me. Everybody plays different right? Different things work for different people right. Just pull it outta you, if it's there. Z'what I'M sayin.

JUjr: With yo HEART not yo HANDS.

SG: How is this different than reading any other second language nomenclature in a post-Cagean world and if it's not then is this racist?

GH: When I started playing out, there was a stigma against knowing too much theory - you were either "too Berklee" (code for having studied somewhere) or condescended to by slumming fusioneers ("I love punk rock - it's so primitive!"). I used to hear both.

As far as I can tell, there's nothing wrong with either approach, though the idea that theory & such can ruin your playing still seems kind of ridiculous. I saw an interview in the 90's where Bill Frisell was asked about that & he replied - I'm paraphrasing here - "you can also make crappy music without learning to read."

JUjr: And now I'm a racist. This has taken some interesting turns.

JUjr: I also hope that I haven't discouraged anyone from reading music, and realize that it can sound alittle ignorant. Maybe I'll learn one of these days my girlfriend Jess has talked about teaching me in the past. But the idea of lording an inability over someone is something I've always been against. But so is taking pride in ignorance. Maybe we'll all be able to laugh over a cup of tea about it. Or whatever.