Wednesday, December 29, 2004


My head hurts. I’ve finally realized I’m older than my parents, and my Mom agrees. My plumber sounds like Chico Marx, and knows what he’s doing. I’m listening to someone being interviewed on the radio who I used to do sound for when three people used to come see her, and I’m glad more people have since caught on. My favorite Christmas present was talking to Kelli until three AM. I feel bad that I can’t relate to drug addicts. All my friends from back home are no longer there. I need to buy a 2005 datebook. I want to start some kind of postcard exchange with artists. I need to get out more.

Tuesday, December 28, 2004


Friday, December 24, 2004


More people die of NATURAL CAUSES on Christmas and New Year’s than any other days.


P.S. The most arrests for prostitution occurs on Valentine’s Day.

Thursday, December 23, 2004

Just get me through the year!

Work was kinda fun tonight. Tommy Stinson came in to buy a t-shirt with his daughter. I took a picture of Becca’s butt while she was on a ladder, causing my boss to call me a pervert from across the room. Everyone was in a talkative mood. Good news of a coworker in rehab. This all means that tomorrow’s gonna suck.

Monday, December 20, 2004


When steam heat meets cold window.

Thursday, December 16, 2004

Time management.

I woke up today to find my heat on full blast. I could tell it’d been going for a little while, and it continued that way for the next nine hours. The heat is easy to deal with. The radiator that leaked all over the shabby, wall to wall in my bedroom will dry, eventually. I can sleep on the couch tonight while fans dry out the carpet under my bed. But I didn’t notice the sounds until they finally stopped. The radiator in the livingroom that clangs and sputters. The one in the bedroom that imitates a dying sleestack. The bathroom is just a wall of white noise. I split my time between drying the ground, and printing pictures of Sofia. Not exactly the fun-filled day I had planned.

I listened to my friend Kristen sing a new song at a show last night, and I slowly realized the lengthy and helpful conversations her and I had at the beginning of November were now in song form. A new experience for me. I’m not sure why yet, but it feels good.

Sunday, December 12, 2004

The excitement never stops.

Trying to put a camera back together. Smelled smoke. Heard fire trucks. Stairway very smoky, and full of firemen. One of them was carrying that big harpoon thing. Looks like someone lit some trash on fire in the stairway. I think it was a “message” since it was right in front of someone’s door.

Saturday, December 11, 2004


Once again, there are fireworks peeking out over the buildings to the south/southwest, and I have no idea why. Hanukkah fireworks? McCoy Tyner’s birthday? Fortieth anniversary of Sam Cooke’s death? While hanging out my window to watch, I took a picture. I didn’t realize it at the time, but apparently I took it because Becca told me to in her online journal. Anyway, here it is.

Tuesday, December 07, 2004

Still at work...

This is that time of year when I start thinking about friends from the past. The ones I no longer see for one reason or another. This year's a little different because I'm confronted with the option of getting in touch with a few of those from a past life. I not talking about the one that's here at my job putting on a show. She could have been in that category, but here she is, and that's a good thing. But if you could get in touch with any of those people you lost over the years, would you do it? There must have been a reason your paths diverged. Maybe you can't remember the reason. Maybe you'll remember too late; when you've already reunited. Maybe you made a mistake. Maybe after all these years, you realize you pushed that person away for all the wrong reasons, or no reason at all that you can recall.

So how much have you changed over that last five, ten, fifteen years? After that much time, you could be starting from scratch. Would you sit down and tell each other the tale of the last decade, or would you just try to pick up where you left off? Let's see. Last time I saw you nine years ago, one of us said, "yeah, I'll give you a call." Okay, let's pick up from there. Or, "I'll write you when I get settled. Or I'll call when I get a new phone number." Or was the last time I saw you when you came into the room, and my exgirlfriend gave you a look that would scare away a lion, and maybe I said, "I'll call you." Or maybe just, "sorry." Well, I guess I didn't say WHEN I'd call you, so hey. Or maybe you were too upset to say anything when your parents decided to move 1000 miles away. Then you did track me down, but let's face it, you changed. Or maybe you were always like that, and I developed the ability to see you more clearly.

Looks like the show's over. Becca, you missed a hell of a chocolate cake. And it's good to see you, Sara. Hope all my grammar's okay.

Hey Becca...

You're missing the woman singing about carrots. I guess this is the carrot course. And I thought the cooking shows in Japan were strange. I'm gonna go answer that phone in the lounge.

Friday, December 03, 2004

Polish Punk.

I just saw a band that was described to me as the Ramones of Poland. Apparently, the people of Poland thought the Ramones should have had a french horn player. (That’s a person who plays the french horn. Not a horn player from France.) Maybe they’re right? How would the music of today be different if there was a fifth Ramone on stage? Sammy Ramone on the french horn.

Wednesday, December 01, 2004


Got a fortune cookie the other night:

“Your love of gardening will take on new meaning in your life.”

I had no idea.