straw cast into a stormy sea

ABC For Book Collectors

Rain — Fri, 02 Dec 2005 05:43:15 GMT

My wife found this paragraph in a reference book specific to buyers and collectors of books: "UNCUT is probably the most overworked word in the cataloguer's vocabulary, and it has come to exert a mesmeric - and not entirely healthy - effect on the novice collector. He will not, of course, share the delusion which provides such ready (but blank) ammunition to outsiders hostile to bibliophily, viz. that uncut is the same thing as unopened, with the corollary that collectors prefer their books not only unread but unreadable. For UNOPENED means that the leaves have not been severed by the paper-knife from their neighbors. But unless the functional significance of uncut edges is properly understood, a rational preference for them IN THEIR PLACE can all too easily degenerate into DECKLE-FETISHISM." Deckle-Fetishism? What the fuck?!? As a friend states, "I can see you going home with your beer and your 10 watt lightbulb to rub the edges of the book pages". This may be my favorite paragraph I've EVER read...

The Season of Regression

Rain — Mon, 07 Nov 2005 17:04:18 GMT

Well, it's that time again. The slight bite of cold in the air and the lack of tourists on the street always act as harbingers of Fall/Winter here in Santa Cruz. (As a side note: It's always saddened me that, here in this beach town, the "changing of the seasons" is done in name only. There's, in reality, the season where it rains a little and there's the season where it's sunny. No true Fall or Spring to speak of...) Every year, like clockwork, November rolls around and I find myself ritualistically reliving habits and patterns I developed at age 16 or 17. I become isolated. I rebuy the music that I listened to in 1987 and happily mope around the house with it blaring in the background. (Year after year, I sell this music as soon as the world warms up.) My house becomes smoky with Nag Champa incense. I have the urge to sit on the porch with a clove cigarette, an urge I won't give into because my desire to be healthy and a good role model for my kids is much stronger than my relish for Nostalgia. I stay up later. I write more. I think about old friends and I think about calling them up, out of the blue, at 3 a.m. and asking them if they want to go on a late night walk to the wharf or along the cliffs. I switch from beer and whiskey to wine and vodka. I grow my hair. I let the night take over the house and leave the lights off longer. I burn more candles. I feel the need to go dancing. I take more time to appreciate nature. I care less about the news of the world and focus more on the world inside the 4 walls I rent. In fact, I become less numb. Every November, I develop a rejuvinated sense of hope. I become dreamier and more idealistic. I'm making a promise to myself to hold onto Fall this year and to not let these regressions disipate with the heat of the July sun. Hold me to it.

The Culture of NOW

Rain — Tue, 13 Sep 2005 02:05:41 GMT

I've had a saddness that's been building up inside of me for a few years now and cell phones are the root of it. Today, I watched a guy, riding down the street on one of those motorized skateboards, pull a ringing cell phone out of his special "cell phone pocket" ,that many shorts are now made with, and he answered the call and then almost lost control and fell into oncoming traffic. If Darwin was right, then the cell phone will be as strong a contributing factor to the extinction of certain members of the species as the ability to swim, forage for food or run quickly. Kids always get the brunt of the abuse that's heaped on a society that needs things quicker than now. I work with individuals who have never known a world without remote controls, microwavable food, computers that can access anything you need to know instantly or cell phone. But, adults fall prey to the temptation of extreme convenience too. It's just easy to scapegoat the kids. What really makes me sad though is NOT the convenience factor. What gets me is that now people NEVER have to spend time alone with themselves and their thoughts. I remember walking 2 miles to school, as a kid (an NO, this is NOT one of those "when I was a kid I had to walk through a blizzard without shoes every day" stories). I'd idle away the time playing little games with myself. Counting steps. Making up stories about the people that lived in all the houses I passed. Using a stick as a sword to vanquish the evil weedy monsters and other plants that happened to be unfortunate to lay withing my path. I floated sticks down gutters on rainy days. I played the "step on a crack, break your mother's back" game. etc. Today, I see young kids walking to school talking on cell phones. They just can't wait that extra 20 minutes to talk to their friends. They walk, hand to ear, eyes to the ground, barely aware of what's going on around them. If they looked up, just for a second, they'd see me sadly watching them thinking of all the youth, freetime, experience and LIFE that they're missing. If I could, I'd send them a text message with a plea from the Universe to just stop trying to fill all that "boring" time and to just enjoy the simpleness of their lives before Time catches up and fucks it all up...

Portrait of a Dead Man

Rain — Mon, 05 Sep 2005 04:45:55 GMT

I'm at the point where it's clear that I've almost burned through my reserves in my current hometown. A few years back, I would have come to this realization and been gone in a matter or months, weeks or even hours. But, now I'm playing the part of "responsible adult" who also has billing as "parent of two children" so planning is in order. Thinking things out in a timely, patient and rational fashion. This all goes against my instinctual grain but I'm in a different stage now and am adjusting to the circumstances. So, tonight my helpful mother-in-law sends me a link to real estate in Vancouver, Washington. First, let me say that of all the places that I find alluring in the Northwest, Vancouver, WA. doesn't even make the top 100. BUT, I appreciated the energy and effort she spent so I open the link and the photos appear and after hearing my exclamation of "holy shit!" followed by near hysterical laughter my wife comes into the room and joins my bemused slideshow of house after house that all seem suited for suicide. I pointed out to her, "now as we go through these shots of bedrooms, basements, weed infested back yards, just imaging my corpse hanging dead center in the shot. Not hard to imagine, huh?" No, I think I'll take it slow. We're in no real hurry and there's no sense of desperation hovering over us. Vancouver, Washington: I'll say a prayer for your residents before going to bed tonight...

total bummer...

Rain — Wed, 10 Aug 2005 04:21:58 GMT

so, tonight, just by chance, both kids happened to fall asleep before 8 and my wife is at work so i am sitting in my dusk darkened livingroom facing that rare gem that is, "the long evening by myself. i decide that i'm going to try and recreate a scenario from 1991 in which i open a bottle of wine grab whatever cheeses, fruit, meat and bread i can find in the icebox, spread it out on the floor and sit in the dim livingroom, which darkens as the sun fades and then is barely illuminated by a smattering of red xmas lights in the far corner. i put old records on the turntable and eat my "bohemian dinner" with gusto. after everything but a few crumbs is consumed, i wash it down with the dregs of the wine and then, to break the mood, the phone rings. for some reason, i instinctually turn on the overhead lights (which create a moment of primal, but dealable, terror and shock to my system and mood) and then answer the insistent phone. it, as almost always, is someone who i don't have anything to say to and who also has nothing to say. what follows is a few moments of painful awkwardness and then i use the usual excuse, "the baby needs me" and hang up. i use the fact that the mood is gone and the lights are on to go to the kitchen to clean up. on the counter lay packages full of whatever i couldn't fit onto my decadent fingerfood platter and what i see gives me the chills... everything is covered in a thin, fine mold. somehow, the dim room and the red lighting gave away nothing of this extra little detail that my meal included. as i type this, i feel psychosomatic twinges of nausea and fever. at least, i hope the symptoms are imaginary... we'll see what the evening brings. Life Lession #16: Never look back. Let the past be just that and eat in the light... atmosphere be damned!

Another blow against Cynicism

Rain — Tue, 09 Aug 2005 04:45:34 GMT

This weekend my friends Rosie and Tom got married. I had worked a long day to end out a long week and I had said I'd drop by the reception after work. Truthfully, I entertained thoughts of going home, taking a shower, calling my wife (who didn't have to work and was already at the wedding) to say that I was too bushed to attend upon which she'd sigh and say alright and then I'd make myself a whiskey and soda and watch the day grow dim through the shades. BUT, I didn't. I said I'd go and Tom and Rosie are two of the MAYBE 30 people in the world that make me happy, just by existing and I'd never forgive myself if I didn't go. So, I threw on some gussy duds and drove out to this little ranch that they'd chosen. ...and I'll be damned. As I pulled up, there was a full-fledged hoe-down goin'! Everybody dancing to the old-timey sounds of the Stairwell Sisters (you should look them up and see 'em and/or buy their music!) and just hootin' and hollerin'. I felt the weight of the day, week and year wash right off me. Everynow and then, I get caught up in that whole "forest through the trees" myopic way of seeing things and I need to remember that this is a world where things like Tom and Rosie's wedding happen eveyday. I think about how my friend Scott says that your Point Of View really affects everything and how I just need to skew mine from time to time to try to see the crappy things in a different light. Instead of it being a world where an evil grandfathered Plutocracy rules our lives and crushes us down into impossible to escape holes, this is a world in which fiddles echo through the grassy hills, and people who haven't seen eachother since we all rode the school bus together can still get along and still remain on good paths and where people like Tom and Rosie can find one another while there's still so much life in them, fall truly in love and then burn into the undoubtedly bright future. Once again (and this may only last for a day or so), I remember what hope and optimism feels like...

note to self:

Rain — Mon, 01 Aug 2005 04:25:18 GMT

i have to remember that whenever i feel so overwhelmed with disgust at what we do to one another, to our world, to ourselves... that i keep on going and do so joyfully for crazy little monkies like my nutty children. Focus on the inner concentric circle... Focus on the bubble I reside in...

No more accepting "New Words". I won't take it anymore!

Rain — Thu, 30 Jun 2005 03:38:47 GMT

In a similar way that we have begun to name new models of cars with made-up names (ie: the Maxima, the Solara, Escalade, etc.) we have begun as a society to create new words that explode into popularity like viruses. This goes beyond slang. "Blog", for example, is a word that I'd never heard until maybe 3 years ago and when I asked someone in a bookstore that had just uttered the "word" what it meant, he looked at me incredulously and walked off like I had just asked him to zip up my fly. The thing is, I don't think he could have defined his word and just accepted it as the new lingo. Well, call me old fashioned but you have have your hipspeak and your mass culture and in the words of Mr Nick Cave, "If this is Heaven then I'm bailin' out..." If I use new fangled lingo, hold me to it and I'll put $2.00 into your paypal account for a nice hot spiced milk at the local independent coffee shop of your choice...

They just don't make crazy people like they used to...

Rain — Fri, 24 Jun 2005 03:17:34 GMT

Back in 1989, I worked at a small burrito shop that only employed kids who one would never assume, "yeah, when I think of a burrito shop employee, that guy/gal fits the mold...". It was built on a small cement island in the middle of a bus depot and it was a whirlpool that drew in madness. The greatest, most lost, most touched (i've always loved that term to describe madness) souls couldn't fight the draw of the burrito shop's vortex and they'd roam and hover for hours. We got to know them all by name. Daniel would offer unsolicited massages. Dina would offer unsolicited horoscope readings that always left you in a position of "damned by the stars". There was the dancing man and the woman that thought we were all (literally) her children and the BubbleMan (ah...the bubble man)... he would start blowing bubbles with this crappy majical bubble machine starting every night at dusk and he would keep them going untildawn sometimes. You could always come downtown and he'd be sitting there watching the stream of soap slowly, beautifully, flow down the street dancing in the wind and lights of confused oncoming cars. I made the mistake of taking a sip of his pro-offered coffee once and didn't sleep for 40 hours. Never drink the coffee of a bubbleman! Today, walking down the street, I found myself only colliding with bored, uninspired kids who all wear the same badge of the street, a uniform made up of black hooded sweatshirt with t-shirt patches and carhartt pants and they all share the same boring story about trainjumping. What happened to the societal offcasts who truly where no part of society not by their luxury of choice but because of their inability to "fit in"? I remember all of their faces from 15 years ago and yet can't remember anything about anyone I saw 2 hours ago. Where did they go 'cause I want to buy a busticket to that place...