'black tuesday'

the first of what I can only assume will be many rounds of salaried worker layoffs is over, and I am still employed.

we shall see what the future holds for me.

limited liability corporation

well, i finally finished my table. just yesterday put the last coat of paint on the top, reapplied the trim piece, and added the glass. this is significant because it is the only project i can think of in my life that i did completely by myself. i took my time, i did it right. there were times when i wanted to just slap it together and be done with it, but i stuck it out. i did it right. and frankly i'm proud of myself for doing so. it was incredibly therapeutic. ella is excited to have it in the family room so she can more easily eat food off of it, and throw up on the carpet.

you let go

living in a vacuum
amidst the pet hair and dead skin
the particles of days gone by
there's little pressure inside this little womb
there's nothing but looking back
on the things you used to have
but they were only make believe
they were only wisps of steam
coming off yet another box of mac and cheese
i look around and see the future
you'll eventually believe in
but i only hope for your sake it's not too late
there are distractions all around
and they're more than happy to take your money
the kind you spend in thoughtful glances
thoughtless gestures
and bowing down before the master
i hold in my hand the reality of life
and the potential to make it a dream
if you'd only wake up and smell what the rock is cookin'.
i break my hearts
as my yearbook so prophetically proclaimed
before i was ready to know it
and before you knew my heartbeat
would only beat for you

Lobsterfest

So, I finally got around to getting an allergy screening.
There is, unfortunately, no screening test for Ibuprofen, so I just need to avoid that.
I am, however, extremely allergic to lobster, shrimp, and crab. Also to scallops, clams, oysters, and other mollusks. I was cleared for tuna, salmon, and cod, and from those tests the allergist felt comfortable with perch, and other fresh-water fish. So, bring on the friday night fish fry, but I'll pass on the lobster bisque.

They rate allergic reactions on a scale from 1-4. 4 being "highly reactive." They poke you with the little pins, and set a timer for 5 minutes. A 3-4 type reaction will appear after 5 minutes. A 1-2 reaction will develop after about 15 minutes. After a total of 15 minutes, if there is no reaction, then you're cleared for that substance. When the 5 minute buzzer when off, the nurse didn't even make it all the way into the room before she exclaimed: "holy crap! you're lit up like a Christmas tree!"

The lobster was a "four-plus" and the shrimp was a 4.

It's weird... it's been over 12 years I'd say since I tasted a piece of shrimp. But even now, if I think about it hard enough, I swear I can feel my mouth start to tingle a little bit.

the latest, and thus, best

DCFC.
I bought sight-unheard the album before this latest one.
It's called Transatlanticism. Actually, that's not entirely true. I had heard one song from TAism several years ago. Anyway, I digress.
The music has really grown on me. I mean, I liked it the first time I heard it, but over the last few days it's kindof grown into me.

This morning I read the lyrics. There were a few gems that I had undoubtedly picked up on my repeated listenings over the past few days, but this is a whole other ballgame. I think Benjamin Gibbard... I don't know how to put it. He writes exactly like I want to. It's like I've commissioned him to write these songs for me. Every song on TAism is like this. There's no Skp-Song here...

This may be a bit premature, but I have a feeling I will be bumping one of my Big 5 to make room for DCFC. ('But Scott! After one album!?!?') I know, I know. But it's the right time and the right place, you know? I mean, listen to this:

Our youth is fleeting, old age is just around the bend and I can't wait to go gray
And I'll sit and wonder of every love that could have been
If I'd only thought of something charming to say
This is the sound of settling.

you can't front on that.

assignation

i equip you.
to do something so simple.
but the quarterly report couldn't be any plainer.
it doesn't matter.
it doesn't register.

and so it goes.

and even had you shared my memory of that song being sung by that girl in high school for the talent show, you wouldn't remember. even had you been standing next to me, holding my hand, and heard me whisper 'my God, that's beautiful' it wouldn't occur to you now. and that eats my insides.

this one should be called christopher

movies created on the way home

what is this little voice in my head?
what is this thing pulling at my heart?
what is this feeling that speaks to me from the lighted windows in the hospital?
daring me to tell the stories I imagine happening from where those lights are on. the romanticism, if that's the right word, that seems to ooze from them. the quiet father, sitting in a rocking chair in a birthing suite, watching Seinfeld as he has for hundreds of nights before this. but tonight, he sits there in a dark room, quietly reading the well studied lips of his friends on the screen, so as to not wake the little creature that arrived this morning to change his life forever. that quiet satisfaction in knowing that nothing else is as important as what he's doing right this very moment. watching over his partner. listening to the distant calls for nurse smith, and doctor jones to OR4. sitting there, in his rocking chair, amidst the sterile light spilling silently from the hallway. the importance of these details. the serenity in this moment. letting it all wash over him. drinking his coffee, sweet and light. knowing that it will keep him up much longer than he's ever been up before, and relishing that fact. the very art in this situation. the cinematic quality of his life right now. unaware that tomorrow the sun will rise, and with it come questions, and decisions, and actions that cheapen this moment.
the song on my radio, that I want to last forever, and literally freeze the world where it is. to allow the layers and depth and emotion in his voice to filter out through the decorative cover, through the molecules of nitrogen and oxygen, gently brushing up against one another, until their message reaches our ears. and whispers into our hearts. and we are filled with longing, and love, and the literal joy of life. i look at you, and you at me, and we silently wish the clock to stop. we wish that we never know what tomorrow will bring, because this, this is everything we will ever need. you, reclined in your car seat, and me in mine. the heater gently pulling the covers up under our chins. there, on the dead end of Adams Castle. the world will stop, and keep us from all that we've distracted ourselves with. Finally in our hearts we will know that we have everything in this moment that those little creatures that we once were were crying for. we will have found in life what our fathers were hoping for us, as they watched over our sleeping little souls that quiet night we were born, as our mothers slept deeply through the night, as the stark sterile light spilled into our parents birthing suites, so many moons ago.

why I believe in being a pack rat

i found these little passages tucked amongst hundreds of daily planner pages from years ago that i had been storing in my filing cabinet. as i was cleaning my desk out a little (because it's a slow day, not because i've been fired... yet), i quickly flipped through the pages, and these are what i found. i'll put them up here, so i have a copy of them, and can throw the pages away.

friday june 14, 2002
"he lies with his hands and with his actions." -joaquin re: Curious George

wednesday june 19, 2002
i hate maybe
it leaves me under
the weather
it drags the life
from my lungs

she wants an answer
she's tired of waiting
for me to come around. she can feel time slipping through her fingers. I confuse her with my actions: I give and suddenly stop for no reason. I push her away and beg her to stay all at the same time. I can feel the future whispering, I can hear my past mistakes reminding me, the future is pulling at me to seek my childhood ideal. the darkness conceals what could be the light I need. My past is warning me not to waste any more time on those who cannot fulfill my desires and dreams. Women who were stealing my potential and draining my passion. Women I allowed to keep me from myself out of fear of being alone. So when she gives me all of the splendor and glory of her eyes, when she holds me to her and opens her mouth and cries, when she covers me in comfort and warmth and unconditional unmitigated love, I am pulled from all directions. I am torn between serving myself, my former self and the man I am desperately trying to become. "will you love me?" All i can say, being forced to answer, is maybe. I hate maybe. It is cruel to her and exhausting to me. I want to sleep my life through this decision. So I wait and delay, and pause for more information. The scales are swinging, the metrics being hunted, the equations being derived in my head. Digging that deperate tunnel to let go the pressure and answers in my heart.

wednesday june 4. 2003
I'm afraid I can't explain to you
the effect you have on me
with all this distance and all this time
I can still smell you on my clothes.

there isn't much history to recount for all of you.
I'm trying too hard, but I need to write. I need to work through the blockage and make things free-flowing again. So I have little expectation for these words but they carry such great responsibility. The are the soldiers that tirelessly work. That carry their weight in nourishment. And I want to feed the world. The Lord up on high has set this summer in motion and He has a plan out for me.
I think that feeling I've been looking for all my life came over me as I was brushing my teeth this morning. That giddy lightness in my lungs.

march of the penguins

these are the lyrics. this is the song. this is spring time to me. from my youth.

out like a lamb Written by Brian Vander Ark © 1993 Sid Flips Music/EMI April Music Inc. (ASCAP). Lyrics reprinted by kind permission.

i'm feeling very moses like you think that i could lead you?
or humble, more like david would you help me cause i need you?
or i'll be charismatic with the power to persuade you

supposing i'm a saviour or a drunkard, or your highness
you slither in these sheets and then you ask me for forgiveness
i'll tell you parables of making love and spreading kindness

flames rise like butterflies
been frightened by my stompin'
i'm laughing 'cause they don't know who i am
the philistines toss tangerines
'cause springtime is for dancing
in like a lion and out like a lamb

goliath sits and watches tired of this investigation
so children grab your M-16s and load your ammunition
i will work all night rewrite the book of revelations

flames rise like butterflies
been frightened by my stompin'
i'm laughing 'cause they don't know who i am
the philistines toss tangerines
'cause springtime is for dancing
in like a lion and out like a lamb

now go and tune your guitars
and i'll meet you here tomorrow
grab that case of scotch
it's all the courage you can swallow
i'll burn for all your sins
but i'm expecting you to follow

flames rise like butterflies
been frightened by my stompin'
i'm laughing 'cause they don't know who i am
the philistines load magazines
'cause springtime is for dancing
in like a lion and out like a lamb