music: Tom Waits- Alice
Back in Boston after a long Thanksgiving weekend in Milwaukee. This year has been a torrent of activity and emotion, an unrelenting barrage of people and experience. I came back more tired than I arrived, but that is ok. Thanksgiving was spent well this year, although I found that I spread myself very thin trying to make time for as many people as I could. I would have, ideally, liked to spend a good hour or so with everyone I saw this weekend 1-on-1, but given the time constraints I was impressed with how much I got in. I know some really great people.
Spending time with family continues to be a more positive experience as my sisters get older. I have allies and companions at family events now; dinners that used to be tedious and unbearable are now much more lively and engaging. And even though I have very limited time with my cousins, it is always great to see them. I spent a good afternoon plus with the J’s, and Aunts L. and E. this weekend. This year was bittersweet, as it was the first time we assembled for Thanksgiving without Grandma. We took a good amount of time going through Grandma’s stuff at her apartment which was a tough thing to do for us, but important. All things considered, Grandma did not own a lot of stuff so the job was not an overwhelming one, but an act that required a lot of emotional push. How does one properly move a family heirloom into a box? How does one rightfully lay claim to these objects, these constants, that were not ours but will always be a reminder of a loved one? We that remain assumed possession of few of her things that had meaning for us: pots and pans, some of her pictures on the wall, assorted trinkets, necklaces and jewlery for the girls. I personally didn’t take much: a red plastic cup (the ones we always drank from-each of the grandkids got one) and a framed Breughel print that I’m told was my dad’s favorite. It hangs in my room now. Her apartment of over 30 years is being cleaned out, the remnants of her life are now boxed up or given away, and we have our memories and a few odd trinkets. Grandma is no longer here, but I think I’ve grown into a new appreciation for my cousins and aunts in the process of missing her.
While there was a requisite camp gathering on Saturday night, it was not the unabashedly wild and positive experience that it has been in the past. I suppose that I’m no longer part of that immediate world having been out for five years now and that I’m more concerned with the people I met through camp than a social circle centered on that place. I got a chance to visit with Doctor Dray and P-rock, always nice to check in with them, as well as friends from my own LT year: Gehl and Nick. Gehl I’ve seen a little more frequently but I haven’t seen Nick in some years. He is now married (!) and with 10-month old son (!!!) but still made it out for a beer. We didn’t have overwhelming amounts to talk about — I suppose given the time and drift that is to be expected — but it was still great to just be around them. Nick continues to be one of the most down-to-earth and nicest human beings I know. Enough time has passed such that these camp friends of mine have beome just…friends. They are all wonderful people.
The Minikani rendezvous was superceded in many ways by the serendipity common to nights out in Milwaukee: a core group of my high school friends were out at the same place. Because so many of the camp people at the gathering were strangers to me (too young for me to have interactions with them at camp), I ducked out of that scene to spend time with my friends from high school. It was excellent. We gathered the previous night as well and spent some good time together (as well as some scattered encounters with past classmates we would never think to talk to given the choice). I felt, at times, like I was 16 again, except with beer. The group of guys I became friends with in high school are an astounding bunch: intelligent, witty (sometimes too witty for our own good), amicable, outrageous when we gather. We have matured since we graduated, yes, and we all find ourselves in different places, but I was consistently astounded to find that we could all gather and reconnect without a hitch, we could really pick up right where we left off last. It is a low-maintnence, high-octane group. We had a great amount of fun, and I had some pretty sappy nostalgic moments. At one point four of us found ourselves together for the first time since Thanksgiving weekend of senior year, when we made a tradition of driving up to Terry Andrae State Park the Wednesday before the holiday and camping out in the freezing cold for the night. Two of the most memorable nights of high school for me, and the fact that we found ourselves together seven or eight years later on the same weekend was astounding to me. Not everyone was in town, but we had a critical mass. It was wonderful.
As I sit and turn over the weekend in my head, I’m reminded of a line from a song by Reid Genauer that I’ve never heard, but a line AJM has repeated so much I feel intimate with it: “We live in and of each other; We will remain.” It is someting of which I am much more aware after spending four or so days with people from my past, from my childhood and adolescence. We share things with all our friends, but there is a familiarity with our family and friends from growing up that is unmatched. I haven’t felt so comfortable as I had this weekend since I last joined company with these people. In my never-ending quest to push forward into the new and explore, I should be mindful of this. Me and my family, me and my friends from growing up: we live in and of each other. It’s a beautiful thing.
I find myself right now back in Boston, refusing to get real until tomorrow morning when my present catches back up with me. There is a storm of reality on the horizon; Mr. Taus will have to re-emerge tomorrow to confront that storm, but his message is somewhat affected by this past weekend. He will tell his high school students to cherish and celebrate the friends they are making, as while there are friends to be made and people to meet in the future, something about those you know while growing up is essential to the fabric of a person. To all I had the pleasure of seeing this weekend: thank you. We live in and of each other. We will remain.
music: Fruit Bats- Mouthfuls
(just working some stuff out here…)
1:15 in the morning. Just woke up aftet an icepick-in-the-temple migraine; still a little sedated from the migraine medicine, but fully awake. I used to thrive on times like these; now all I can think about is how my sleep cycle is all messed up.
Two days until Thanksgiving break and it can’t come soon enough. To any students out there: I guarantee the days before vacation are harder on teachers than they are on you. I’ll be heading to Milwaukee on Wednesday afternoon and all the craziness therein but at this point I welcome and embrace it. I was talking to another first-year teacher at school today who said something the lines of “I just need to be somewhere where I’m someone else for a while.” Pretty much. I don’t even live in this city these days, I just find myself here having to navigate its convoluted streets. All my thoughts are focused on getting out of Boston in some capacity: Thanksgiving back home, last minute super-saver flights to some exotic location for Christmas Break, Spring vacation in some National Parks out West, Australia and New Zealand next summer…how all these excursions will be funded is another question. Point is, though, that I’m not doing a good job of living my own life right now. Even on my own time I find myself plunging into frivolous matter and fluff content. The instinct is flight: to physically remove myself from this current reality. Then, of course, things will improve. Or not. But at least I’d have some time in which I would once again confront the contents of my own head, have the space to set some decent personal goals for myself, and have the energy to see them through.
I wake up every morning and check the weather on the internet.
It’s funny-being awake and somewhat functional at this time of night (hardly late by my past life’s standards) gives me some agency over my own life again. I’m misbehaving here being up at 1:15 AM, and it feels ok. Until about five hours from now when reality smacks me around. Part of all this mess is that I realize more and more I’m never going to be able to reclaim the carefree state of my own younger years, which moves farther away every second. This trip is one-way; there is no backtracking. So, then, onward.
Freedom and flexibility of time is a big issue here. I don’t hate my job — I probably love it too much — but it just sucks me dry. 12 months of work crammed into ten. tmo is a believer in control over one’s time, even valuing that over money, and I’d tend to agree at times like this. Perhaps self-employment is the solution…but then a whole cache of technical issues such as taxes and insurance. To be master of one’s own fate is a tough task. Society has me in a chokehold.
Enough. This sort of thinking is inevitably self-defeating. The best thing to do is, like always, do the best I can with what I’ve got. I’m tempted to fold ‘em, move, and start over, but I’m not convinced that such drastic, sweeping changes will solve anything. What is more important and realistic is a shift in mindset here. A reclaiming of my own life. Things like this become more clear and reachable at 1:15 in the morning.
music: Blackalicious- Blazing Arrow
I stopped at Danehy Park on the way home today to catch the sunset. I pulled my bike up to a park bench and stretched out, allowing colors to shift from cerulean to amber. It was a nice moment. I heard the group of kids coming before I saw them.
The kid at the front, lost in his hood, all of a sudden peeks out from underneath the fabric like a turtle and lets out a “HOLY SHIT! IT’S TONY HAWK!”
I, being tired and trying to relax, didn’t realize he was talking about me and didn’t really feel the need to point out his mistake.
(Do I even look like Tony Hawk? I have no idea what Tony Hawk looks like.)
He comes up to me, asks for my autograph. He’s frothing at the mouth because Tony Hawk, apparently, is sitting right in front of him. Who am I to crush this kid’s sense of wonder? I ask for his name.
“Malik.”
I pull some scrap of paper out of my bag, scribble a quick message, and hand it over. He’s ecstatic. He takes off, pumped to play some skatebording video game no doubt. I smile on the inside and watch the sun go down. It was a nice moment.
Dear Malik-
Skate Or Die!
-Tony Hawk
music: Ben Harper- The Will To Live
When David came back from his trip this summer he knew there would be some major transitions and adjustments to make come fall. He knew that he would be buckling down and putting in some long hours teaching. He knew that to some extent he would have to put his own interests and pursuits aside and make room for Mr. Taus, his industrious, hard-working counterpart. David knew this going into his first year of teaching, but when it came time to scrub in and get his hands dirty he was unprepared for the full extent of what his job would demand.
I’ve been told that one of my most valuable character traits is my propensity to work at projects until they are complete. I’ve been told that one of my most annoying character traits is my attention to detail and my need to work until everything is exactly as it should be. Finishing what I begin…producing quality…I’m good at that sort of thing. To a fault. I often charge forward and push with blind and maddening force when, by all rights, I should stop, rest, regroup, restrategize. I’m one to put a couple holes in the wall before I hit the stud. I’m one to spend 20 minutes packing my hiking pack, make water and snacks accessible, and hike at a rediculous pace for three hours straight. I’m driven. I work singlemindedly. To a fault.
David has all but disappeared. There is nothing but Mr. Taus these days, and if it’s any concilation by all measures Mr. Taus is doing pretty well. (Mr. Taus’ students are another story…and could that mean that Mr. Taus actually isn’t doing that well?) It comes, however, at a great expense. He is able to at least meet his own expectations for himself as a competent and sometimes decent high school teacher, but it is taking its toll.
These days work is on average 12 hours door-to-door, plus a good chunk of one weekend day. The energy and exertion required generally leave me completely spent, pretty uninterested in getting up and doing anything. And even if some part of me thinks it would be nice to get out of the house the rest of me is in dire need of rest. This week was especially tough: the end of the first quarter. I spent the majority of my “free” time grading notebooks, tests, and projects. 15 hours on my day off on Thursday, 3 hours Friday night, 8 or so hours yesterday, and 10 hours today. Some utilitarian moments stuck in there for hygiene, elimination of waste, and metabolic function, and a healthy amount of sleep (at least there’s that). Mr. Taus has been a machine, grading and planning enough to satisfy his own need to do things right. David has been too beaten down to make much noise about it.
This can only go so far. I can deny myself myself for so long before things start to go bad for both David and Mr. Taus. David’s been suffering for a while, I realize, but it’s only when Mr. Taus starts to feel the effects of such a push that I begin to think about readjusting priorities. I’ve switched into survival mode for the past two-odd months: be sure I’ve eaten something, be sure I’ve slept enough to make it through tomorrow, try to break a sweat at least twice a week, do something social but only because it would be good for me and not because, all else being equal, I really want to. I come home after school and coocoon. I’m even a ghost around the house. I really want to hibernate, sleep for a month straight. Instead I’ve been contending with the end of the quarter, increasing demands from school, and shortening days that leave me literally in the dark for the majority of my waking hours. My mental health is taking a nose dive, but all I can do is switch into survival mode and keep it together enough for Mr. Taus to make it through tomorrow. And hopefully begin to think about the day after.
I’ll stop venting in just a minute.
This wouldn’t be happening if I were working at something that benefited myself directly, or benefited some faceless, abstract group or institution. This is happening because I’m accountable to 65 teenagers, many of whom have never been cut a break in their life or had many people believe that they are worth anything. This is for them. They deserve at least what I’m able to squeeze out of myself for the sake of Mr. Taus. They take their emotinal toll as well, often leaving me wondering what it might take to have them believe in themselves enough to realize even a little bit of their potential and become positive, contributing citizens of this planet. And I’m put in the position of being a pain in their ass as a means of helping them get there. Their psychic residue follows me home; I can’t shake their presences and personalities. I can’t leave them at the office. I’m not under the illusion that I can singlehandedly reorient these teenagers, but it doesn’t matter. I have to do something.
Mr. Taus is doing OK. He’s even gotten some pretty nice compliments from his principal and some of the students. He’s doing OK. But David is suffering. David is sustained dreaming of a respite from this toil: Australia in June, 2005. The scrapping for psychic territory will continue to be fought, but when Mr. Taus has 65 angry teenagers at his back and David has only his selfish interests, certain outcomes are inevitable. All the while I will try to reconcile these two universes and patch the leaks through which my mid-20’s are trickling.
music: Kruder and Dorfmeister- the K&D Sessions d.1
15 hours of grading notebooks and tests on a day off, and an early wake-up tomorrow. This is unreasonable.
It’s finally done, my grading hell, and I’ve only used up two red pens. Spent my off-hours feeding myself and fielding calls from kids who have projects due tomorrow. And yes, I get to grade those 65 projects over the weekend.
It would have been a nice day to do something. I’ve been unable to find much time to do much else besides school-related stuff, despite the long list (schedule doctor and dentist appointment, buy wedding presents for friends, book plane to tuscon for December, fix bed, buy hard case for guitar, finish mixing and overdubs on some music, aid in the basement construction project, eat a regular meal, spend some time with friends, break a sweat, go play music with people, be outside for more than a commute). And never mind the school-related To Do list. November is supposed to be the hardest month. I’m in for a really unpleasant couple of weeks if today was any indication.
15 hours. Grading finally finished. I thought my quest to not grow up and push paper around had succeeded; I was wrong. You know energy and morale are running low when you start to look forward to the unconsciousness of sleep.
music: Drums and Tuba- Vinyl Killer
I realized this Friday afternoon that I hadn’t been to a concert since Phish’s final show in mid-August. Good that I was finally getting out and taking in some music: the Sam Kininger Band at Harper’s. While the show would be good in its own right, my friend Amy plays keys in the band and can throw down with the best of them. Even though she’s a friend of mine, she’s also a good enough musican for me to want to listen to her stuff regardless. The show was good; more than anything else it felt good to be back in the realm of live music. But it left me more hungry than when I came in.
I’ve been bitten by the music bug. it’s not enough to be a passive observer of the creation of music anymore. It seems that every time I hear music happening these days I want in on its creation. I’m not saying that I’m good enough to hang with the likes of the Sam Kininger Band yet (nor would I get off on playing funk for over an hour at a time), but hearing isn’t enough. Music is no longer a spectator sport. I left the show sort of bent out of shape because 1) I wanted to make some music and 2) I realized how little time I have been giving myself to pursue things I wanted to do for me. I spent the rest of the weekend with my guitar, bass, drums, and recording equipment getting some stuff out of my head and onto tape…er…hard disk. It’s now Sunday night and I’ve just spent a good long weekend doing little besides making music. It’s been just me on all instruments, but hey, I take what I can get.
This summer AJM and I cannibalized a tune written by our buddies in Madison and made it a connecting piece between two more structured tunes: Gato Negro and the Asphalt River. We retained its name but none of its lyrics. And so Fernanda became my little project for the weekend. Every time I get into a recording session the bar is raised in new ways-this time was a much, much better mic job on the drum kit thanks to Ron’s Oktava MK 12’s. Plus, this is the first song I recorded with the Gibson. The results are astounding; Fernanda has become an ass-kicker of a song. I seem to have worked myself out of the sappy campfire songwriting phase I was in from this summer. I also got a good drum and bass track down for the reworked studio version of Gato Negro (probably the best song I’ve had a part in writing thus far). To be finished this week sometime…but with the end of the quarter at school and tests and notebooks to grade it might have to wait for a while.
All this sound crunching has put my computer through the ringer. It’s probably more than that but things have been a little off with this trusty machine this past week. I’m getting some electronic static on audio tracks. It could be a whole bunch of things including the patch cables connecting the mixer to the soundcard (let it not be the mixer itself! and PLEASE let it not be the soundcard or computer…) but some of my work has some crackles in it. Funny part is when I rewind and replay that section, though, the crackles are gone. Curious. Cool Edit has flaked a couple times as well, randomly shutting itself down mid-session. Chalk one up for Microsoft. And this is probably unrelated, but over the past week my computer’s developed a case of insomnia- it isn’t able to standby or hibernate. I think this is because of something else (the error message says something about COM 1 and drivers) but it’s still frustrating. I’d like to lean heavily on this computer of mine for audio recording even though I know it’s not designed for such uses.
Recording sessions are a long process that require discipline and patience. And for now, the creative process is a solitary endeavour. Just as well; I need to make more time for things that allow me to grow. Plus most days school burns me out on conversations. Besides those technological glitches and electronic hiccups I’m glad to be getting this stuff down. Fernanda is an enormous rocker. I’ll still tweak levels and fiddle with the things for a bit but for the most part it’s done. It feels good to know I have the potential to make some really good music, but more than that it feels good to do more than consume. I’m now starting to contribute some original music to the world, and it rocks.
music: Lee Perry- Arkology d.1
It was determined earlier today that George W. Bush will be our president for another four years. I’m profoundly disturbed by this. I don’t really talk about formal politics too often because I find the whole enterprise pretty repulsive but this is worth a quick, sharp rant.
I voted for Kerry yesterday because I don’t like Kerry less than Bush. I think that generally speaking politicians at the CNN-coverage level are exactly the wrong people to have in leadership positions precisely because they all had the audacity to run for their respective offices. (sort of like everyone who has a degree from Harvard had the audacity to apply to Harvard…) I find Bush’s opinions and platforms especially deplorable in this light; in many ways he is the posterchild for a false sense of self-entitlement. Texas boy grows up filthy rich, blows off classes at Yale and Harvard and inherits the family business, then through deals with Big Business slowly ensures himself and his inner circle of more riches, security, and most of all social capital. What I am worried about most is that with someone like Bush at the helm people begin to believe in an elite aristocracy more deserving and entitled than everyone else, that Might actually does make Right, that the ends always justify the means. I am worried that the haves will further distance and exploit the have-nots, that taxes will actually get cut and we will actually get what we (don’t) pay for. I am worried that it will be acceptable to integrate religion into government. I am worried that people will be sent off with gun in hand to fight and die because the brave leaders of this country have us still convinced that we have to swing at shadows to feel avenged for a terrible hate crime that happened almost three years ago. This Bush fellow is emblematic of everything that will end up working against humanity in the long run. I suppose, though, that if it all bends but does not break in the next four years then Bush will step down self-assured and justified in all his decisions and leave the mess for someone else to clean up.
That’s not what worries me the most. The big problem is that after yesterday, the precautions set in place to balance power and protect all interests was grossly upset. The Senate and the House of Representatives now leans significantly towards Bush’s camp. The projections are that at least three Supreme Court slots will be filled during this term. Those whose political leanings favor self-gain have a lock on Washington for the short future. I only hope this country can endure the imminent attacks on the equitable distribution of resources and more accepting and tolerant ideologies. Those of us who still are believers in liberty and justice for all have a tremendous challenge ahead of us.
I was thinking today that all great nations have at some point folded. Greece, Rome, Persia, Egypt, China only lasted so long. We would like to believe that we are more enlightened beings now, that we have something on the Greeks, Romans, or Egyptians, but I think that the opposite is true. After all we’ve done in the past 150 years to this world, this great nation is living on borrowed time. Never mind the debt we are incurring to Mother Nature, never mind the millions and millions we are alienating with our military presence, never mind the unsustainable practices and lifestyles our government has perpetuated and embodied. We are setting ourselves up to be ripped open from the inside. It was not so subtle a point that the election maps looked suspiciously like maps from 140 years earlier: Blue v. Gray, 1864. The only difference now is that this time around, the Good Ol’ Boys of the Confederacy have poked into Ohio.
Four more years. We’ll continue to fight like only underdogs can.
