A Sasha Story.

It's been odd around here. No pooch at my feet as I put on my socks and shoes. No black furry blur running to the door in anticipation of the great morning walk, sniff and pee ritual. I figure I walked Sasha close to 80,000 times or so. That's a lot of walking and sniffing. A lot of memories are wrapped up in those walks. A lot of stories are wrapped up too. Here is one of them...

Back in the day - in this case "the day" is an early summer morning about 6 years ago - we lived in Peekskill. Not in the artistic district, but in a bizarre duplex in the historic Depew building at the end of Rt. 6. We had French doors, wood floors, two marble fireplaces and a kitchen and a bathroom that were downstairs and below ground. It was spacious and distinctive but a really odd set up living wise. A big problem was the stairs down to the kitchen and bathroom. It wasn't just a few easy steps, but more like the steps Father Karrass gets tossed down in The Exorcist. They were steep and there were a lot of them. I hated those steps, especially if I ever sprained my ankle or got a heel spur or tore my knee. As for the neighborhood, we had the occasional drug dealer and prostitutes and other suspicious looking folk.

What does that have to do with the story - not too much - I just wanted to paint a picture for you.

Back in the day I also had a raging case of insomnia. Even if I managed to sleep I was sleep walking and even worse - sleep eating. We'd wake up to discover boxes of cookies devoured and all sorts of bizarre concoctions I'd made when, apparently, no snacks were handy. It not unusual to come downstairs to discover some milk in a pot with an egg and a slice of cheese in it. WTF was I trying to make? Thank god I seemed unable to get the stove working or we would have been in real trouble.

I eventually went to my doctor about it in hopes of getting a sleeping pill or other suggestions. He told me I was stressed out (no shit) and sent me on my way empty handed.

So it was early on a summer morning in the hood back in the day and I was in a stupor from a raging Ed Norton Fight Club style of insomnia. Sasha, bless her hyper heart, was up with me so I looked at her and thought we might as well go for a walk. Usually I kept her on a lead because there were cars and kids and the aforementioned suspicious people around, but it was 3AM and no one was around so I took her out off lead.

Right across the parking lot from our building was a hill. The first twenty yards or so were fairly steep and grass covered then came some woods and then a street above us and then above that the house and building of the hit 80's show, "The Facts of Life". The walks were generally relegated to the grassy part of the hill, known to us as "potty hill". Sasha knew where to go and what to do - though when we first got her she had bolted through those same woods and was finally captured by some Lutheran nuns from the convent above us and their Ecuadorian landscapers. But she had sinced claimed us long before and there was no fear of her bolting on this night. So I thought.

We get about half way across the parking lot toward the hill and Sasha bolts across the pavement and right up the grassy hill to the edge of the woods. I had no idea what she was going after or doing. It was surreal, I just watched her as she raced along the edge of the woods, traveling left to right and wearing her home jersey until she just stopped dead in her tracks and did the big "play with me move".

A big-ass white striped tail shot up in front of her. Her new friend was a gigantic skunk.

Oh Fuck. I thought.

"Sasha! Get your ass away from there! Cmon cmon cmon back over here! Get the fuck over here!!" I yelled and miraculously she came back to me over. I hadn't seen him spray her and I still held some hope for the few moments it took her to run back over.

I bent toward and sniffed. eeeeew. Skunky badness. Not a direct hit, but nothing I wanted to live with.

So, we went back into the house and down the steep Exorcist stairs without waking Clarisa. Why bother her?

I toss the pooch in the tub and turn the shower on and just jump right on in with her and start scrubbing away. Anything that was flowery scented got used. It wasn't working though. I locked Sasha in the bathroom and went into the kitchen in search of tomato juice. I'd heard that worked, and was willing to give it a shot. Alas, no V-8, no tomato juice and no tomatoes. Ah, but in the pantry was a cornucopia of spaghetti sauce. We had a few chunky Hearty Italian bottles, Garden N Herbs and an A La Vodka Sauce. This would have to do. I figured it was worth the shot.

I go back into the bathroom with the 3 bottles of chunky sauce and Sasha is still in the tub, blissfully enjoying the water. She'd shook herself though and fur was stuck everywhere. Stinky skunky fur. I climb into the tub and start working the chunky Hearty Italian sauce into her coat and this starts to annoy her. I keep scrubbing and working in spaghetti sauce and she keeps shaking and the fur and the sauce is flying everywhere. First the chunky garden style and then the garden and herbs and the a la vodka.

By the time I was done, the bathroom looked like someone had been blown to bits in there. There was chunky read sauce and clumps of hair everywhere. No matter though, because the pooch was deskunked (mostly) and I'd done what had to be done. I was beat - cleaning up could wait.

Around 5AM I climbed back into bed without telling Clarisa and somehow got to sleep. I figured I'd tell her later and clean up when I got up.

She got up at 8AM. Man was she surprised.

Drunken Blogging

Let me state that I have had three very potent Margeritas at this point. Ok. With that said...

My pooch died in my arms around 5:50 tonight. Clarisa and I held Sasha as she died. All I could say as the drugs took hold (so fast) was "I'm sorry" and "I love you" as I cried. First she just laid down and seconds later collapsed onto her side and she was gone. Just like that.

After she collapsed the vet, crying as well , got up and left us alone and I whispered into her ear a Buddhist mantra - "Om Mani Padme Hung" as many times as I could. For about twenty minutes I held her and talked to her after she'd passed. My pooch. My nervous, neurotic, but oh so loving pooch. Sasha, you will be missed, darling. If there is any sort of universal justice or karma you should be in good hands at this point.

Her last day was a good one. I took it off and spent the day with her from start to finish. Car rides, walks, dog parks, runs, more walks and turkey sandwiches and chips. We spent time frolicking in bed and on the couch. More than once, I tried explaining to her again and again what was wrong and what was going to happen and why. Of course, she had no idea, though she was freaked out in the vet's office once they put the catheter in her right leg. She wanted out of the Vet's office at that point.

In my heart I hope that Jenn finds her. In my heart I hope that all of a sudden Sasha just comes loping up on Jenn and gives her a bunch of kisses and that they are together until either one of us or both shuffle off this mortal coil.

I know I did the right thing, so why do I feel so guilty? We loved her as much as we could.

Again, I'm a bit speechless. I'll let Victor Hugo speak for me then...

Certain thoughts are prayers.
There are moment when, whatever be the attitude of the body,
the soul is on its knees.
Victor Hugo

Suffice it to say I am on my knees. Again. Here on the same day Jenn left for Oklahoma, never to return.

For Sasha

I knew something was wrong because while I was walking home from the bus stop on 119, Clarisa pulled up and was bawling her eyes out. I figured it might have to do with Sasha, our dog, and it did.

I'm a wreck.

She's sick enough that we will put her to sleep tomorrow.

We'd dropped her off at the vet to board her this past weekend and get her checked out - she had a little growth on her eye that had just sprung up. They ran some blood tests and discovered that her kidneys and liver are failing. She also has lymes, despite using Advantix. Ultrasound results show cancer all over the place - her neck for one. So, rather than let her suffer from it, we're letting her go while she's happy.

Sasha's been great. We've had her over 10 years of her 12+ years here and she's been a joy. Sometimes a royal pain in the ass, but a joy overall. She's not a ball fetcher or a trick doer. Though, if you were playing with a ball with someone else, after a bit she'd grab it and go hide it. How DARE a ball get better treatment than her!

When we got her she was insanely submissive - so much so that she would crawl on the floor to you when called and then roll over and whiz straight into the air. With patience and kindness that stopped and she's graduated to just being a nervous dog. A happy, nervous dog that wants to sit on your head and loom the way Snoopy does when he pretends to be a vulture. Nervous, but happy and a fan of humping our big gray cat, Little Guy.

She's been my buddy for a long time and I'm just so sad that tomorrow she's going to be gone. I'm so sad. I really don't know what else to say. Things turn on a dime.

Tonight she's getting boneless pork spare ribs and tomorrow we're going to go the park until it's time.

And to top it all off - today I saw a lady with a small child on the street asking for help. The same lady I saw back on October 12th and had passed by. The same lady I had passed by the day before my sister died.

Today, I passed her again in a rush to get home when it hit me who it was. So I went back around the corner of 39th and 6th and gave her two dollars. I wondered, what, if any, portent was there. Coincidence - probably, but I'm enough of a mystic to think there's much more than we can see here.

I really don't want tomorrow to come...my heart is breaking.

Musings

Earlier this week VH1 was showing a censored version of Showgirls. WTF? How can that sort of thing even be allowed? I mean, really, if you censor Showgirls, what do you have? An impoverished, diluted husk of a film void of any of the licentious and lascivious behavior that in fact made it such a guilty pleasure to watch. In short, you get jack-shit.

Censorship is bad people. Fight it. More boobs, less bombs on the boob tube.

Ok? Ok.

Moving on...

For a little bit I was reading A Soldier of the Great War by Mark Helprin. I say for a little bit because I left it (and my monthly train pass which was playing the part of a bookmark) on the train or on the roof of my car. Considering the trainpass runs me $185 it's a relatively expensive misplacement. I hope whoever found it enjoys the literary stylings of Mark Helprin and free travel on the MTA's Harlem Line for the rest of August.

As for why I lost it - I guess my mind was a bit preoccupied on the way home that day and the reason for that is big enough for it's own post in the near future. Suffice it to say I had bought a turkey sandwich for a homeless guy who looked a bit like Jesus and whose pet ferrets had starved to death / cooked to death in the 110 degree real-feel heat on the street that day. His name was Tim. I'll write about him again.

As for the book...it's reminiscent of Hemingway but Helprin's prose is a bit more mellifluous and Helprin's central character, Allesandro, so far, seems to be a brighter and more evocative character than Hemingway's Lt. Henry.

Instead of getting another copy for now, I wandered back down to the breakroom and picked up another book someone had dropped off. Running with Scissors is a true tale of a kid's fucked up life after his crazy ass mother dumps him off at her eccentric (and that's really a kind euphemism for "crazy fucker") pyschiatrist's house and his relationship with his mother and his new found family. Despite all that, there's enough familiar ground in there for me to be sympathetic, but enough whacked out crazy shit that makes me ever so thankful that I was not him. The day I start examining turds the way a gypsy looks at tea leaves is the day that I really really really better get some medication. If you are confused - read the book. It's a hoot - it's a good story and ultimately about how resilient we can be.

In another post I'll cover The Family 2005 reunion in Virginia Beach. I got to meet family I never met and see others that I had not seen for 30 years or so. A good time was had by all.

It's Friday and its slooow at work.

It's been a while between posts blah blah. There is no procrastination. Just the absence of doing stuff.

Really though, I can't tell you how many times I sat down to post something here and immediately felt like I was getting bonked in the head with a big heavy thing. Of course, trying to post at 12:20AM is not probably the ideal time to put any thoughts down.

The protracted battle to fix the house continues. The contractors have been here all week and working late. It's kind of odd trying to sit and watch a DVD with shirtless sweaty Polish men working all around you. But that's life these days. If you want to watch a DVD, you have to do amidst the symphomic clamor of drills, hammers and saws interspersed conversations in Polish that I'm sure go something like:

"Peter, this wall isn't level."

"No surprise there Michael. This place was
built by retards. The ceiling isn't level either."

"It looks like an interesting part of their movie. I will now turn this drill on."

With luck, the guys will finish up today and we'll be ready for the counter-top guy to install our Maui colored Corian countertop in a few weeks. Then a week after that, the tile guy is going to come back and finish up the backsplash.

At that point, I think we will take three deep breaths, gaze at the rennovations and enjoy them for about 10 seconds and then call Century 21. Atlanta seems to have an abundance of tech jobs and the housing costs are still -- relative to Westchester Cty, NY -- cheap. Who knows really where we will wind up, but I can't imagine staying there too much longer. Of course, if I could work from home two days a week, we could buy one of those McMansions in the Poconos that you see advertised all the time in the Daily News and still put money in the bank. The future is wide open.


Most of last weekend was spent in total frustration as I tried and tried and tried again to successfully install a brand new, kick-ass ATI X800 XL AGP card. After installing a new Antec TruePower 430 psu for the X800 to feed off of, I tried to install the new vid card. Tried. And Tried. And Tried.

To say the least the litany of removing the old ATI software, installing the card, installing the Catalyst Software and Drivers was repeated again and again. All I ever got was screen defects and XP freezes and my monitor going into power-save mode interspersed with the occasional blue screen of death. I tried to upgrade my BIOS, but for whatever reason, the damn thing just won't upgrade. The most frustrating part of all this, is that the damn card actually started to work all of a sudden and continued to work for about 2 hours. Half Life 2 and Battlefield 2 never looked so good or played so well. I was amazed at all the new details, espcially in BF2 where the rotor wash from a helo will bend and shake tree limbs and leaves. Even more amazing was the way the jets and helo's handled in singleplayer mode - smooth and fast. What a difference a new video card can make. I was sooo happy. I thought about all the nice new kill records I would post and how my BF2 stats would climb.

Then the card crashed again and never came back. Tell you what - I really wanted to do a John Lydon on my PC. I wanted to hack it to pieces and whiz on it and give it the finger. But, I managed to retain my self control and put my old 128MB ATI Radeon back in it works fine. But, BF2 won't load now. So now I need to reinstall that. Grrr.

Basically, I know the problem lies with my older mobo and its frozen BIOS. I just need a new motherboard and chipset and to reinstall XP. But then I need to get a mobo that fits my Gateway case, which is going to be problematic. So, I already have a new vid card, a new power supply and a 1GB worth of PC3200 RAM. Throw in a new case and a new 478 pin motherboard with a 3.6 processor and I'm on my way to building a new PC. I could add new drives as I go and eventually pop in a RAID controller and upgrade the RAM. Decisions Decisions.


On a different note....

The guitar playing is coming along pretty well but the licks and rythyms of Robert Johnson continue to elude me. So, for the most part I stick with a master the blues book and CD and another book and CD combo that covers scales over chords. That stuff I am starting to get. Like, I can see how the major scale breaks down into the blues, minor scales and pentatonic. I'm even getting fairly comfortable playing, say a primary form of a scale up the neck, and coming back down with the secondary form. Things are starting to click there. Plus the PODXT is just a blast to work with. I'm always one nob turn away from the clean bluesy tones of a Black Lux to crazy metal tones. Freedom baby.



In a few hours I'm flying with my cousin, Jody, to Newport News for a family reunion with our Virgina Beach folks, the Gradels and Autens. The only downer is that Clarisa is not going. She's staying here and is with her cousins and uncle who arrived here today. The original plan was for all of us to go see Wicked and tour around the city. Then this reunion came up and with it a scheduling conflict. We talked about it and I decided to go to VA. It should be a blast though. The last time I saw these people, I was 5. That's an awful lot of catching up.

Hiking, Boozing and Breakfast Machines

I can't concentrate worth a crap right now.

I will say that last weekend was excellent.. I hiked, golfed, drank margeritas played and played guitar with a friend. Not bad at all.

The hiking at Ramapo Reservation was a blast. I went with Sfumato and his friend, Debra. Great conversation and good exercise. My ankles weren't ready for it. Hoofing it in NYC is not the same as climbing up to Hawk Rock - where we did in fact see a hawk and Sfumato treated himself to some hot stone therapy on cliff-rocks. Along the way we spotted lots of tiny little frogs and though we did not see one - Sfumato was convinced that there was a pheasant about.

Aside from an invite for the next hike, I took away one thing -- comfort in the fact that I'm not the only one who hasn't figured it out. Actually two thing -- the second being that we might actually have an Adventure Race team in the making. Spiff!

Later in the day I got a call from Dave - a long standing friend back from the Enterprise Rent A Car Days. We did an impromptu barbecue at his place and drank a couple of Margeritas and shot the shit outside in his back yard. Later on we played guitar for a bit - always a pleasure with Dave because he's really good and a good teacher. Go figure - he just got his Masters in Education from Fordham and he's a good teacher. Very auspicious. Then in the middle of playing, I get a call from Clarisa and she's all upset and freaked out and wants me to come home. The reason? A chandelier crashed down on our dining room table, just moments after she stood up. At first I thought it might have torn out of the ceiling, since we just had it moved and that the guys put it in wrong. Nope. The actual metal hook holding the lamp just snapped. Totally crazy.

It's fixed now. Clarisa put things back together on Sunday when I was golfing with my Pops. We went to Vassar and played 9 holes with a nice couple, Murray and Eileen. As it turns out, Murray's a Chinese Studies Historian at Baruch. Hey, how often do you meet a Chinese Studies Prof and how often do you actually have something thoughtful to say about Chinese history? I mean what are the odds?

In this case, 1 to 1.

Oh yeah, I finally got to talk about Cheng Ho and the Chinese Navy and the water clock they built and all that fun stuff I read in Boorstin's "The Discoverers". [DuffMan Voice] Oh yea! Putting knowledge to use. Fucking Cheng Ho the eunuch. [end DuffMan] On top of that - Murray was writing a book on electrical engineering with a focus on semi-conducters. As luck would have it, while my Pops knows nothing of sailing Chinese eunuchs, he just happens to have a PhD in Metallurgy and 30 years in semi-conducter fabrication with IBM. So he had something to talk about. Ah - so what does Arleen do though? She works in IT. Systems analyst. What a great networking opportunity. And they were pretty good golfers too!

I'm going to have to look Murray up. How many Chinese Studies Professors can Baruch have?

Finally - I'd like to leave you with this little bit of Family Guy. It gets funnier each time I watch it.

Soldiers. Cops. Bombs. Blues

A day after the first bombings in London - the powers that be posted a platoon of National Guard soldiers at the White Plains train station. The boys are armed and loaded and do a pretty good job of stopping in front of people with bags or backpacks and giving them a bit of a stare down.

After the failed subsequent bombing attempts in London, they added MTA police to the trains and maybe you've heard that they are stopping people and searching them. One of the guys at my job got stopped this morning in Secaucus. I told him it was because of his beady little eyes. Plus he's Spanish, which these days is close enough to match an Arab profile. And yes, I'm all for profiling in this case. If it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck and is carrying Semtex like a duck, chances are it's a duck. Stopping every 25th person, even if it's Al Gore or Tammy Faye is silly. It's being PC to the point of stupidity.

Anyhoo, moving along...

This morning cops were taping off Madison and 42nd. Lots of police and lots of shooing people away. I can only assume it was a bomb threat. Nothing about it showed up in the news, and no news is good news when it comes to terrorism. Speaking of which - Bloomberg is apologizing all over the place for the NYPD storming a tour bus and detaining five Sikhs. You've probably read about it / heard about it or watched on the news. From what I've read, a Gray line worker called it in saying these tourists were suspicious. While it's better to err on the side of caution, is there some way to do a PSA which informs people that turban does not equal terrorist? Casting aside the sartorial splendor of the five detained and scared shitless men, here is a Sikh:


Here is a Shiite:


Note the subtle differences.


Moving on again...


Dammit, despite the recent attacks in London and spate of scares here in the U.S.A. I refuse to let the terrorists win. That's right - today I went and bought something! On the way to pick up some tickets for Wicked in two weeks (we got hooked up with Orch. seats and a backstage meet and greet through a friend!! Nicey Nice), I stopped in at Sam Ash's sheet music place on 48th and picked up a general Blues tab book and a Robert Johnson tab book.

Robert Johnson's blues - that's about as American as you can get.

The Gear Is Here....

Alrighty!

My Marshall MG15CD and my PODxt showed up today.

[Stimpy Voice]

Joy!

All I can say it is soooo nice to have an actual amplifier, even a little one, instead of playing through tiny PC speakers or headphones. I was a little down on my Samick, but the the lil' MG15CD is a major upgrade for it and it sounds much better. Fuller, richer, cleaner and all those other words a stereo salesman might use to describe a speaker's tone.

As for the POD - I didn't get a chance to use it. I forgot to order a second guitar cord and the headphones I have are for the PC only and I don't have an adaptor.

Total Bummer.

I will say this though - it's way way bigger than I thought it was going to be. I thought it would be hand sized, but this thing is the size of Paul Bunyan's kidney. It's all good though, 'cos I wouldn't want to have to be squinting at a tiny display and twisting tiny dials. For the plethora of nobs on the POD, bigger is better.

For whatever reason, Musician's Friend also threw in a 6-Pack Pedal Board case. I don't need it yet, but free shit is free shit. Free is cheaper than wholesale. For now I put the POD in there until I get the free POD case via rebate.

Thor is right. More gear is good!

And it's also good to cut loose a bit and just play. See what comes. More and more often, I'm surprising myself.

Mind Freak on My Mind. On My TV. In the Park.

I'm sitting here fiddling around with a deck of cards I found at work - a little Bridge sized deck that says Puerto Rico across the top and has the picture of a halter top wearing hottie playing a bongo that's decorated like the Puerto Rican Flag. Next to her is a frog waving two rattles that are also decorated like the Puerto Rican Flag. The frog, in a pique of festivity and Puerto Rican pride is wearing a bow tie and a cape.

Total tourist trap stuff. I love it.

Like I said, I'm hear fiddling with these cards and working through a couple of simple tricks and I just remembered that MindFreak is on AE now.

Aside from the barrage of publicity around here in the City and on TV - I wanted to check it out because I'm interested in magic right now, and because two days ago I actually saw Criss Angel perform one of his illusions / escapes in Bryant Park. The illusion was set up on the south side of the fountain in the park. Basically, there was this large box/tank deal with Plexiglas sides and inside of that was a sealed container with a transparent front and Angel was inside it already. The deal was he had 33 hours to escape before oxygen ran out. More like 33 hours of publicity!

When I went by again later that day the tank was a lot more cloudy and bubbles were coming up all over the place in it. Angel was still in it and I could see him responding to the crowd. The next morning I came by a bit late for work and no surprise - the guy was out of the tank and not a drop spilled. Pretty cool and pretty David Blaine-ish I thought.

As for the show tonight, I caught the second half with him doing some powerful card tricks and street magic and a boatload of astonishing levitations. Not one or two little tiny lifts after a huge build up a la Blaine. No odd camera angles a la Blaine. This was up close with people all around and the camera close up and from all angles. Don't get me wrong, Blaine is great but after seeing his specials and then this show, Angel's levitation is better, hands down.

I'm amazed.

On the show tonight, the guy levitated up an escalator, six feet into the air in the middle of a park and then floated a few passersby supposedly plucked from the street. Regardless of whether or not there were plants in the crowd, the illusion was just crazy.

I'm also smiling because I can't help but have the thought -- "Did that guy and those other people actually float? Levitate?" Kudos to Angel for tapping my sense of wonder.

And then I think "I had no idea the guy from RATT knew magic!"

A Secret Revealed. Notes Played. Tricks Turned.

Oh I am so pissed.

Really totally completely and utterly Pissed The Fuck Off. Angry Strapped Muppet Pissed.

I guess it's just my knee jerk reaction to being cheated on. It's just my knee jerk reaction to being cheated on 4 times over the past three weekends.

Like most despicable lies and secrets, this one wormed it's way to the surface in an innocent conversation. Like most subterfuges and ugly canards, it kind of just popped out. In this case it came up naturally in the course of the conversation with a common friend and relation. Poof! There it was. His wife gave him up without even knowing it. Amazingly - she did not seem upset!

Sfumato has been hiking without me!!! GAAAAH! With his brother-in-law!! OMG!!!

Fucking Sfumato and his big secret hiking in Ramapo. Fuck him and his so called Tiki Run which he hikes / walks and stumbles through whilst being swarmed by bloodthirsty mosquitoes bent on giving him malaria and West Nile. Maybe he could go faster if he wasn't stopping to set up a lab to measure the chemical composition of the food he got at the deli in feeble attempts to determine if it's right for his blood type.

All of the time I'm like -- Hey Sfumato, lets go for a ride. Hey Sfumato, lets get together and run. Hey Sfumato, lets go for a bike ride. Hey Sfumato, let me put you in a triangle choke and beat your ass down for a while. Invariably - the guy is booked more than Tony Robbins. Or. Or,if not booked he is:

• not into running
• not into mountain biking
• not into getting triangle choked.
• kick boxing and dreaming of Bob Sapp.

The fucking nerve.


[Dan Akroyd and Steve Martin enter from screen left. They are wearing leisure suits. Georg speaks] "That James, he is such a wild and crazy guy! Such a jokester. He jokes! Funny Funny man. He kids. He is a kidder. Everyone knows that Sfumato is the hippest cat to cruise after Tiki Barber in tight slacks since Claude Lemiuex!"
[They exit. They look disappointed that their writer could not come up with anything better]

:-) Nah - I'm not mad at Sfumato. Not even miffed. I am amused though! Now, if for a brief moment, you or he bought the rant and at first thought I was talking about cheating with a capital C, or thought I was pissed at him --- well, you could describe that as having been "Rizzed".

If you bought it, I'm like 1 - 0 against the Internet.

If Sfumato bought it at all I will have improved my record to like 6 for 375 lifetime against him.

Ok. Now to tie in the rest of the title of this meandering stream of a post....

I'm playing guitar again. Like AGAIN. At one point, ages ago when I was 15 I had a nice left-handed Ibanez Artist ( a double cut with a sunburst finish) and played till I was about 18 or 19 and then dropped it until I was like 26 and dropped it again when I was like, still 26. Then hard times hit and I pawned it and that was it for guitar. A couple of years back, lets call it three + I got an acoustic guitar from Samash.com. Nothing fancy, just a Japanese Fender dreadnought. Strum strum strum. Clarisa, bless her and her supportive nature, goes out and gets me a tuner and a stand. I actually I play for a while. Just long enough to get to sound like actual notes are being played and I lose interest.

Ah, no one saw that coming, right?

So last year I pick up a Samick Les Paul knock-off which goes by the moniker of "Avion". Let's face it, no one knows what that is. Not one to lie, when asked what type of axe I have a bravely say I have a Les Paul knock-off and try to explain that I am beginner. Still. After 20 years. Anyhoo, since I got the Samick I've definitely played more and longer, though inconsistently. I've even jammed out with some talented friends here and there. Each one waaaay better than me. Each one infinitely patient though and very supportive and each with a bit to offer in the way of teaching. A definite highlight was over this winter. I played with my friend Barry and covered the acoustic version of "Times Like These" by the Foo Fighters. It was the first time, ever that I actually played and sang. It even sounded pretty good.

So, I've been playing again. A little theory, a little scale work and a little cover action. Enough practice to get me craving some gear. In the honor of this latest phase I finally went out and bought an amp (I'd been playing it through my PC with a Line 6 GuitarPort which recently went tits up) - a little Marshall MG15CD 15 Watt Combo and a Line 6 PODxt Amp Modeler with Effects. Of course, the price of these two items is more than I paid for my Les Paul knockoff. The amazing thing is I had no problem dropping the cash. Spending 15K on renovations and praying for insurance checks kind of nipped that problem for me I guess!

Perhaps one day I will become enough of a player to get a Gibson Custom or Gibson Standard or an American Strat or some mixture thereof. Until then I'm going to beat on the two guitars that I have and figure out Ten Years Gone by Led Zeppelin, a few Neil Young tunes and some blues stuff. If I could play like anyone it would be like Johnny Shines or Robert Johnson. They are A-mazing.

Another emerging hobby is magic. All I've got so far is a a couple of card tricks, a rope trick and a rather poorly executed vanishing coin sleight. Naturally, I have a book (Mark Wilson's Complete Course in Magic) and when my fingers begin to ache from guitar I can turn to the cards and fumble through some knuckle busting tricks. The funny thing is, as much I enjoy doing it, I always feel like a bit of a charlatan. But I guess that would be right on the money though, no?

Finally, out of my myriad interests there's this blog and you, Internet. Thanks for listening.

Idling while Lance Races.

Pink Floyd is playing in my head.

"Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day...fritter and waste the hours in an offhand waaaaay"

Ever feel like you are just idling? Biding time? If this were a movie, I'd be hoping for a blurry fade out or montage or some other device that would fast forward time and move stuff along.

But then, what is life if not to be lived? And appreciated? Even these quiet moments. Even these pensive moments - these little lulls that seem pretty great when the shit is hitting the fan. Enjoy the silence.

So let's see - what's going on...

Vacation was good. Clarisa's brother flew in to spend the week with us and help out with our place. While the contractors really took care of the bigger repairs, it was great to have him around to swiftly handle a few honey-do's that have been on my list. Plus he's just a great guy and I like having him around. Aside from house renovations we managed to see a Yankee game (the one last Friday where Wang pitched in the rain and gotten taken deep by phenom Grady Sizemore on the very first pitch of the game), take a trip to Brooklyn to see Auntie Joan and take a trip up to Poughkeepsie and Hyde Park to hang out with friends and family. All in all a good vacation.

Still, next time I go on vacation I really want an R&R vacation somewhere fun. Friends and family are welcome to come along - I just want to be out of NY when it happens. Some hotel off of Horseshoe Bay in Bermuda might be nice.

Work is on the upswing. I have a new immediate boss whom I have a good relationship with. He gets what I want to do and wants to help me do it. In turn, I really want to help turn the department around and get a few good quantifiable projects done. For one thing, I want to run a few usability studies. I also want to get my hands on some of the Mercury testing tools. Ultimately, I would like to get a usability department started at iVillage - with me heading it up of course. We'll see where it goes. I have some people that have my back on it. It's just that it's tough to overcome organizational inertia. If we manage to complete and act on a study and we get great results like increased traffic and longer video views, more article views etc -- it will be a lot easier to argue for an increased role for usability. Like anything - the first break is the hardest to get. I hope to impress if I get the chance.

Naturally, me being me, I spent some time this weekend researching Usability Engineering / HCI (Human Computer Interaction) MS programs. It turns out that all of the heavy hitter major tech universities have it - Stamford, MIT, RPI etc. but they are far away and there is this whole thing about me living and working here in the NYC metro area that kind of gets in the way of that. Plus, lets face it, getting into Stamford, MIT or RPI is not exactly a guarantee, even if I lived around the corner. Still, no local schools have it. Not NYU, Columbia, Fordham, Pratt, Pace, Parsons, Cooper Union - nada. The closest programs are ones at NJIT and at RPI.

One interesting thing I did find was a ton of QA jobs in Atlanta. Lots of usability jobs too. Housing is very affordable down there. And... Georgia Tech offers an M.S. in HCI and is ass cheap if you are a resident. Long term, that might be a plan - get a job and place in Hotlanta, go to Georgia Tech for my MS in HCI and work in a burgeoning field that I'm interested in and even matches up decently with my personality and interest inventory tests. I'd love to sell our place and be able to take that money and actually purchase a house house and down there, you still can.

One last thing - it's 2am here and that means Lance Armstrong is probably up and eating breakfast and getting ready for his Sunday Ride in the Pyrenees.

Sunday's stage from Lézat-sur-Lèze to Saint-Lary Soulan, is 205 kilometers (127.4 miles) and will cover six mountaintops. Portet d'Aspet, the first climb, is considered a second-category climb in terms of length, steepness and difficulty. The peaks that follow, Menté, Portillon, Peyresourde and Val Louron-Azet, are all ranked first category. The stage ends with a climb to Pla d'Adet, which is above the town of Saint-Lary Soulan. Pla d'Adet is the backbreaker, especially after the first five. It is a climb of 10.7 kilometers (6.6 miles) at a grade of 7.6 percent. It is beyond a category rating.

"Tomorrow's no cakewalk," Armstrong said. "It's the queen stage, the hardest day in the Tour."

I'm thinking, it may be the queen stage, but Lance is King of the mountains and is going to make the Peloton his bitch for the day. Bring the pain Lance. We're rooting for you!

Tears - Rain - A flood

I forgot to mention one other thing about Jenn. The medical examiner found a pulmonary embolism as well. It was not infarcted, which I guess means that it had not caused an artery in her lung to burst. Still - her girlfriend who found her said that there was blood in her lungs. As with a lot of things about Jenn and her death, it's unclear.

Still though, I can't imagine something like a pulmonary embolism not hurting tremendously. Add the pain of a degenerative back condition where your disks are crumbling to that and the confusion that a drug like Amantadine brings on and it starts to make sense why she might have reached for the painkillers.

Last Weds. we headed up to Poughkeepsie for the ceremony for Jenn. My step-sister, parents and a few friends of the family were there and I started to weep as I got out of the car and walked toward her headstone. Seeing her name there on the black granitewas a bit surreal and for a second I was taken back to October 18th, 2004 when we buried her. I'd been there before, but not with family and not with family gathering around the same way they had those months ago.

Father Rock, a Fransiscan priest who's a good friend to the family came to say some kind words about Jenn and to lead us through a few prayers. As he went along, it started to rain and he said it was a blessing. Maybe it was. The strange opening in the clouds right above us sure seemed to indicate it. Above us and a bit to the east was a bright blue eye with light streaming out of it that disappeared when Father Rock finished up.

After the ceremony we went to St. Andrew's Cafe at the CIA and had a bite to eat at the place Jenn loved most. It drizzled a bit, but nothing too bad.

Down in Westchester it was a different story...

It rained a bit up in Dutchess, but it POURED around Westchester. I think five inches of rain fell in just a few hours. The SawMill River flooded and roads got shut down everywhere. Anywhere there was a road with River in the name, there was a flood. That means the Sawmill River Parkway, The Hutchinson River Parkway and the Bronx River Parkway. To get home we had to drive through a section of the Saw Mill Parkway where the water was as high as the doors of our Santa Fe. We saw some other trucks blasting through -- so we did too. But just for one moment there I thought we lost traction and were actually floating. Drifting down into a swollen SawMill River would have turned a bittersweet / downer of a day into a Mongolian Clusterfuck of a day. As Clarisa might tell you a Mongolian clusterfuck is just like a regular clusterfuck except that it's a clusterfuck without hope.Yet here we are. Mongolian clusterfuck avoided. Score one for us.

Sadness, Anger. Regrets.

Tomorrow, June 29th would have been my sister Jenn's 28th birthday.

Not a day goes by that I don't miss her or think of her in some way. Sometimes I'm sad, sometimes I'm angry and sometimes filled with regret.

I'm sad because she's gone and because I'll never see her again and sad because there was a ton of potential in her that will never be realized. She was on her way when she started classes at the CIA - that was a real turning point for her. She was taking responsibility for herself, working hard and enjoying learning. When she had to quit because of her back - - looking back I can see that was the start of a series of troubles and mistakes and poor choices and just rotten fucking luck that somehow, in total, inexorably, killed her. She took a night shift job at IBM and tried to do a full load of regular college classes and could not keep up. She moved out into an aparment she could not afford, moved back and got involved in relationships she didn't really need, but needed to have. Then she moved to Oklahoma for a fresh start and to get a job as an assistant pastry instructor at a community college. She didn't get the job.

I'm angry. I'm angry at her even still. I'm angry for the lies she told and the truths she withheld. I'm angry at myself for not being a better brother. I held back from her and pushed her away when she probably needed me the most. I substituted distance and anger for compassion and love. Friends tell me that if they were in my shoes they would not have had me play it any other way. In retrospect, I'm not sure how right I was and am reminded of some advice I got from a psychologist years ago. He told me just to love her and accept her lies. He told me no matter what she said or did to just be strong and accept it and love her. No anger - no screaming. Just compassion. The irony of it is that last summer I was reading a lot of Buddhist literature and had started to meditate. I guess I was just reading it rather than living it. I was that pissed off at her.

I regret not having reached out to her. I regret not having called her after she moved out to Oklahoma. I regret that the first time she overdosed two weeks before she died that I did not call her to speak to her. I regret that when I finally came to my senses and called her after she had gotten kicked out of the rehab clinic she had checked herself into because insurance would not cover her that all I got was her cell phone voice mail. I was too late.

She died the next day from an overdose of Oxycontin.

The medical examiner in Oklahoma City also found Amatadine in her system - which is one of the large cocktail of drugs she was supposed to be taking as part of an outpatient addiction treatment program. Generally, its given to people with Parkinson's to stop their tremors, but some side effects include confusion and euphoria and in rare cases can make people suicidal. I've read where some doctors refer to it as the poor man's methadone.

So how did she get it (the Oxycontin)? Probably from another patient at the rehab clinic. Her girlfriend found a prescription in her car that was made out to a guy from the clinic she'd been hanging out with and driving around. Maybe she took it from him to stop him. Maybe he gave her some. Maybe she stole it. Who knows. Maybe she thought it was a lower dose than it was.

The night she died she spoke to her best friend and he tells us she was in good spirits, everything considered and seemed to feel better when they hung up. Her girlfriend says she was having a hard time of it though and had gone to bed early that night. She checked on her and decided to head out and get some stuff to make cookies for her so she could have some in the morning. Just a little token - just some comfort food. As she left she said Jenn had been coughing a bit. When she came back forty minutes later she was dead. She worked on her and the paramedics came but from what we can tell they took too long to get Jenn to the ER and that only a little bit of narcotan was given. We're not sure why. Of course, they couldn't and didn't bring her back.

Now I have pictures and clothes and some books of hers. I have some CD's back that had disappeared over the years. I really don't want any of them. I'd much rather she still be wearing her favorite hat or flannel robe or what have you. I'd really rather not have anything of hers if she could still own it.

Tomorrow I will be at her grave and see her headstone for the first time. It's polished black with a rough hewn matte top. I'm sure I'll cry even more then.


I'm glad the last word's she ever said to me were "I love you guys."

We love you too, Jenn. Until we meet again.





One last thing...

When you have really bad chronic back pain and need pain medication and are prone to addiction - it's a high-wire act. Constant pain or constant stupor. And they give it out like candy. The movies make light of it too. I can't tell you how many I've seen where vicodin or oxy or some other opiate is offered freely and in a comedic way, like it's something that can't hurt you and is FUN! That really eats at me. It's not a casual thing. It's worse than heroin and just because it comes in a little pill from a pharmaceutical company instead of a needle does not make it better. Get the help you need or help your friend or family member get the help they need. They need your love and support.

Moves. Monitoring. Blasting.

Well, we have our kitchen designed and our counter top and cabinets ordered. The contractor is coming on Monday morning at 8AM and we'll be on our way to a renovated house. The insurance adjuster also gets back on Monday. Here's to hoping our submitted expenses meet with no resistance.

Changes are afoot at work. My boss quit. Not sure what that means for me except that I might get a better position. The guy moving up to take his place realizes my untapped potential and seems to be for getting my ENFP ARI self cranking and happy. To that guy I say "Good luck with that!"

The company is also finally moving to its new iVillage digs on 7th and 38th - the movers are coming tomorrow to take our crap out of here and put if over there. All I have is a few books and folders. Not a lot at all. I'm not a big cube decorator. Not into it. Just not my thing. Even if I wanted to, I don't no how I could here in the worlds smallest cube, which is filled with three monitors, two PCs, a Mac and 2 notebooks. I'm lucky if I have room to touch myself. Word has it that the new space will give me, like, more space, man. Fine by me. I'll also finally be getting my hands on some Mercury monitoring and testing tools. If nothing else, it will be good to learn for the resume. People know Mercury is enterprise level, expensive shit. The logic goes if someone let me use it / administrate it, I must know my shit. Shit shit shit.

In other news...Battlefield 2 showed up in the mail yesterday and I got to play it for about an hour. Man o man. It's friggen great. Of course, the college kids who got it at 6AM had been playing it for over 15 hours and were already experts by the time I got it installed, but what can you do. It looks and plays great so far. There is definitely an added layer of complexity to it that was not there before - what with the Commander mode, which takes you out of the game and puts you in command, duh, of your troops, lets you direct artillery. Do satellite sweeps to spot the enemy and so forth. So now when I think about drawing, I am going to want to be blasting away, or checking out $4K gaming rigs.

When we were in Halifiax a while back we visited the graves of the Titanic disaster victims. This headstone of this unknown child is separate from all the others. I took it with a Canon Powershot A-20 and retouched it in Photoshop CS by converting it to B&W and then colorizing and tinting it. The original shot is in the upper left.
Photo By VanishingJames

"Well At Least You're Focused..."

Ah, there's nothing like the biting sarcasm of a close friend and confident...

Early last week I took some personality tests - first the Strong Interest Inventory Report and then the Myers-Briggs deal. The former measures your interests, confidence and personal approach to things and comes up with occupational themes to focus on while the latter informs you about your personality, how it operates and how to play to your strengths and shore up your weaknesses. All in all good tests and worth it.

I think the results I got back from the Strong Interest Inventory are pretty spot on, but even so its no crystal ball and presents a wide range of career possibilities for the occupational theme it came up with for me - ARI (artistic, realistic, inquiring). Tech showed up, but a little low. Go figure - I thought it would be in the toilet next to accounting and statistics.

So, I reviewed the test results, sent it over to Clarisa and I approached her about it the next day. I told her, "I figure I can do something in Graphic Design, Photography, Stained Glass, Pottery, Architectural Drafting, Editing, Medical Illustration, Package Design or Plumbing Engineering." And then I proceeded to detail what I thought were the pro's cons of each and how I might go about learning more about each field.

She of course replied, "Well At Least You're Focused..."

At first I didn't pick up on the sarcasm -- the reason being that I thought that actually was a narrow band of choices. After all, I had an official looking report that listed them out of millions of possibilities. I stood there looking at her and after a few seconds the sarcasm soaked in.

"You're being sarcastic...?"

"Duh."

"Holy fuck." I thought. Evidently - more focusing needed (& needs) to be done!

The next day I take the Myers-Briggs tests and get the results back quickly. Evidently I am a an ENFP:

ENFPs are typically enthusiastic innovators, always seeing new possibilities and new ways of doing things. They have a lot of imagination and initiative for starting projects. ENFPsÂ’ energy comes from what is new and different, and they are spontaneous and enjoy action. They can become so interested in their current projects that they drop other things that are less exciting. Because they see so many possibilities, ENFPs sometimes have difficulty picking those with the greatest potential. They dislike routine and find it hard to apply themselves to the sometimes necessary details involved in finishing projects, easily becoming bored. They are concerned about people and understand othersÂ’ needs and aspirations. ENFPs readily communicate their enthusiasm, and this can be infectious. They often inspire others as well. ENFPs are likely to be most satisfied in a work environment that is welcoming to people, innovative, and full of exciting new possibilities. Others can count on them to find new ways of helping people solve problems and overcome barriers.

And, if Typlogic is to be believed, I share my ENFPness with the likes of:

• Mark Twain
• Will Rogers
• Both Mickey and Andy Rooney
• Paul Harvey
• Elizabeth Montgomery
• Dom Delouise
• Robin Williams
• Sandra Bullock
• I. King Jordan
• Regis Philbin
• Andy Kaufman
  

What that means I'm not sure. Dig it though - friggen King Jordan, Mark Twain and both Rooneys. Who knew?

So what's and ENFP ARI type guy supposed to do? I could proceed with the NYU Applied Database Tech Certificate and probably get it. It's something I know I can do, but not what I would love to do and I think that the creative side of me deserves a shot. I've squelched it for sooo long. I'm thinking that somwhere in the realm of the visual arts - photography, graphic design, fine arts I'll find my niche.

Right now I'm content to explore and just starting doing stuff - taking pictures, drawing, mucking about with Photoshop and the like. We'll see what comes of it.

A Friday on the Lake

Tonight is a quiet stay at home Friday. Left work a tad early, went for a run and did some push ups and sit ups. My running is getting better - I ran about a quarter mile longer than I did last time and in about the same time. For the rest of the evening I think I'll just chill out and experiment with Photoshop, play a little Desert Combat and call it good.

Last Friday was quiet and relaxing but didn't start out that way - because it's always a pain in the ass to get out of NYC on a summer Friday and get anywhere. Me, I had to get to Lake Hopatcong in NJ to meet up with some Fordham buddies and go out on the lake. So, I flew out of work around 2PM, caught a train to White Plains, hopped in my car and...It won't start.

Dead battery. See what happens when you don't drive anymore!?

Luckily, I spot a cop in the parking lot near the White Plains Convention Center. It's really just a big gym, but lets pretend it's a convention center. Stick with me folks. Ok, so I spot this cop car and its at the red light waiting to pull out of the lot. The car is not close, but its not far. The light turns green and the cop stops to pull out when, miracle of miracles, a car coming in flags it down. So I turn into WhiteManRunning in the 90 degree humid air and make my way toward the cop, hoping the light doesn't turn or that the cop just decides to screw the no right on red rule.

I make it to the cop car. It's a female Westchester County Cop. I ask. She differs. I ask again and tell her what I'm trying to do and who I am trying to see and that every second counts when it comes to making it across the Tappan Zee on a Friday afternoon. She relents and tells me not to hurt myself and lets me use her battery to jump my car. I cast many blessings and good feelings her way and I'm off. I tell myself that maybe she helped because I was cute. It's a longshot, but what the hey.

I get home, rip off my clothes, walk the dog fast (pee dammit pee!!!) and hop back in my car and go off to battle the traffic on the Tappan Zee. I figured at 3:40 it can't be too bad. The normal 25 minute trip to Joe's place takes 40 minutes. Not horrible. Then Joe is dicking around and we wind up pissing away about 25 minutes. It's an enjoyable 25 minutes but every second counts because now traffic on route 80 west is mounting. Eventually, we blast off and make our way to Lake Hopatcong. Joe is a bit of a closet metal /hard rock freak and he's got System Of A Down's Mezmerize playing and we're just rocking out to it and talking about boozing and sex. (I wind up buying the album the next day on iTunes. Clarisa calls it my "Kill your parents" music. That makes me laugh. :-))

Eventually we make it and Paul and Jerry are there waiting for us. Seconds later we are on the boat and the world changes suddenly. Four lifelong friends are back together - just briefly we know - and it seemed like all our troubles got left in the wake of Paul's boat. We zoomed around. I got to drive a bit and we wound up dropping anchor and just jumping in the lake and floating around.

Nice rays, cool beer, floating around in a lake with life long pals -- priceless stuff. I'd show you all pictures of it but me, being the forgetful dumbass that I can be, remembered to bring my digital camera but forgot to load a CF card. So, all I have is mental snapshots. Let's hope they last! Even better - we need to get out on that boat again soon.

Golden Monkey. Drink it. Spank it. Drink it.

Last summer in mid July a few cool things happened:

1. My brother in law came out to see us
2. We saw a Yankee game in which El Duque made a successful return to Yankee Stadium
3. We discovered Golden Monkey (by Victory)

We were up in Rhinebeck doing a little site seeing and shopping with Clarisa. Bored, hot and tired and hungry and most of all, thirsty, we stopped into Schemmy's to sit down and refresh ourselves.

The waitress tells us they have a new beer in and asks us if we would like to try it. She gives a sample and we love it. It's a Belgian style beer with "abundant fruity flavors" and supposedly packs a kick. We order a pint for each of us. About 10 minutes later and 3/4 of the way through our beers I look over at Matt and feel compelled to make a declaration...

"I don't know how this is possible, but I'm buzzed going on drunk." I said.
"Me too!" Matt said.

We were amazed.

So we finished them and ordered another round and in effect wound up downing a six pack worth of regular beer in less than an hour. Why? Because our magical golden monkey of the fruity flavors and glowing goodness packs 9.5% alcohol by volume.

Oh yes. Golden Monkey is an effective beer.

After that day, I never saw Golden Monkey again. None of the stores down here carry it, or at least they did not the last time I looked. Not that I shop for beer at all really, but when the mood struck now and again I never could find it.

Until now.

A little beverage center that we just happened to stop in on the way to see some friends of ours had it. Not being one to pass up an opportunity, I bought a case of it. As luck would have it, my brother in law is coming out in early July for vacation and to help with the house and once again we will be able to lift a few. AFTER the repairs. Lord knows how fucked up things might get otherwise...

The added bonus of this beer is that you get to say, think and write things like...

I'm happy to share my Monkey. I'll show you where my Monkey is and then let you go get some Monkey 'cos I'm a Monkey lova. I bet you like my Golden Monkey when its cold. Someone help me find my Monkey! I bet you want my Monkey! [inspired by Joe Cartoon's "Look at my Monkey" -- go watch it!]

James catches a break

Good news! We had the insurance adjuster out here yesterday and it looks like all the damage is going to be covered. We already have the floor, so now we just need to head out to Home Depot and plan out a kitchen and bathroom and arrange to have them installed along with new wallboard.

In the meantime, the cats are fascinated with the new "corridor" between the master bath and the kitchen. They just think it's the shit and keep parading in and out of there like its the grand opening of the Chunnel.

Of course its not as horrible now as it was. We tore out all that filth and cleaned it up. It looks like crap, but its clean and neat and not going to stay forever and THANKFULLY we are not going to go broke repairing it all. Yay! So, to sum up, we are not letting our animals parade through the filth.

Anymore. ;-)

On a side note - I took Sasha running with me for the first time in ages and I have to say she was just great. In the past, she was a loon. All things living and dead needed to be checked out and she was just too much to actually run with. This time though -- she did her business at the beginning and then was content to just pad along side me down the rail trail right near our place. We've found our niche! I can't wait to take her tomorrow again.

See the little black eye looking thing to the left of center, just under the rusted metal? It's a little hole. A little tiny hole the size of a nail. A nail some SOB put into the pipe who knows how long ago. A nail that has caused a hole that caused the leak that caused all of this aggravation and accidental Buddhist mind training. Shit happens. Indeed.
Photo By VanishingJames