is checkin' it out

is testing stuff

randomness

I was reading my friend Tomoko's blog this morning wherein she shared how she was tagged by a reader to post eight random things which no one knows about her, and then tag eight people and have them do the same. She didn't tag me- she did, however, tag my fun wife, Cheryl. No matter. I can still get in on the fun and add my own list, which in all likelihood will exceed the limit of eight. Here goes:

I'm a grandfather. In about three weeks a baby girl will be joining her brother, Wyatt, and her half-sister & half-brother Megan and Patrick.

When I was in the fifth grade I went through a brief and extremely intense phase where I wanted to be a race car driver. I don't know why or where it cam from. I just woke up one morning obsessed with race cars. It lasted for over a year, I suppose, and went away about as quickly as it came.

From there I went into a phase where I wanted to be a rock and roll star. That lasted much longer and, fortunately, ended when I was about 22 years old.

I have about twenty years experience cooking and have a reputation as a great chef. I don't like telling people this because for some reason they usually feel intimidated by it and assume that they can't cook as well as I can.

I've come close to being killed about about nine times. At least that I'm aware of. No, I'm not a cat. I imagine your average person can site several times themselves.

I've suffered from depression all my life but it took me years- decades- to realize what, exactly, it was. I could never quite figure out what it was; I only sensed that other people could manage their lives better than I seemed to be able to. I'm currently taking prescription anti-depressants which seem to be helping.

I moved from Southern California to Boston, Massachusetts in 1987. Sight unseen. I'd never been to the east coast or to Boston. I didn't know anyone here and didn't have a place to go to, live at or a job. I just got on the bus and went, arriving in Boston in early August with about $12.00. Things seemed to have worked out well.

When I was in the fifth grade I tried out for the school choir and was accepted. I apparently had a very rare vocal timbre and octave range- I forget what that was- and was given a solo part. I didn't take practice seriously enough and lost the part to another person. Maybe that is why I wanted to become a race car driver.

japanese light

I've had this light bulb for some years now. I'm guessing it must be at least forty or fifty years old and my step-father bought it in Okinawa when he was stationed there while in the Navy. He gave it to my mother after they married in 1968. It has intricate glass flowers that light up inside the bulb and you can adjust the level of light inside beneath them. I'm not sure what you would use it for- we never used it for fear that it would burn out and end up being rare, valuable and impossible to replace.

cheese roll, anyone?

I've been interested in holidays & festivals of the world for sometime, and while there are so many that are unique and, well, peculiar to different regions, it really takes a great effort to keep track of each of them as they come our way. Living in the states, where it is currently Memorial Day & Pentecost, we get advertisements for mattress sales and the like by which we can engage our insatiable appetites for celebrating an annual event. While there probably should have been more organized for Pentecost we will at least have the opportunity to catch a parade or two blocking our passage on the way somewhere out of town for the weekend.

But today I'm not really writing about Pentecost or Memorial Day - they are already well on their way out of our frame of daylight at the moment. However, I did just learn that tomorrow, May 28th, is the Cooper's Hill annual cheese rolling and wake in Gloucestershire, England. I kid you not.

We here in the States don't have a cheese rolling or anything similar. At least as far as I am aware of. I'm sure we probably have something similar which would be a whole heck of a lot of fun to us locals and would invite puzzled stares accompanied by head scratching from viewers off in the nearby distance. Neither do we pelt one another with tons of tomatoes nor do we run with bulls, but perhaps we should.

The scene goes along something like this:

At noon a 7-lb wheel of ripe Gloucestershire cheese is set rolling free down a hill in Gloucestershire and people chase one another after it in hopes of becoming the first person to make it to the bottom. Anyone can participate in the four races which are held - although one race is for ladies only - and the lucky winner gets the 7 lb. wheel of cheese. Cash prizes go to the runners-up and there are uphill races as well. A "Scramble for Sweets" is also organized for smaller children. It is believed that this holiday and game are a throw back to Roman fertility festivals. I'm not sure how the wake part fits into the whole procession.

Maybe it's time we had a cheese rolling and wake festival here in New England. It would be great fun and another way to continue keeping in touch with our agrarian culture, which we are losing more and more of these days. Besides, who couldn't use a bit more cheese these days?

Music

I've been working on a portfolio of music samples for theatre sound design. Please check them out.

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stringless

I've taken an interest in different traditional forms of drama, which include to some extent puppetry. Not necessarily the American, Western hemisphere type but the Oriental, Eastern variety, although we share some similar traits. Puppetry has in many ways become an art estranged from its psyche, perhaps because, like most things, it attracts the attention and imagination of children, so we decide to clean & shape it up so that it will better serve our purposes as a training tool. Add to that the dissolution we've taken upon ourselves to nullify religious subjects in our art & entertainment and we are left with, well, shadows. Shadows which don't permit any contrast, opacity or illumination. The traditional tales & characters from the East seem better equipped psychologically- thus reflecting an aptitude of it's creators & community- to deal with a greater scope of life in a common measure. Here the sacred commingle with the profane & the crude interact with the cultured, all in high spirits & good fun, with little self censoring or obfuscation of the truth, whether divinely inspired or deviously fabricated. The world is complicated nexus of possible worlds & penetrable precepts which are not exclusive or limited to a select few. Puppetry has found its niche, one of simplicity before the courts and alleys of the commonwealth where all alike are invited to celebrate the joys & woes, the victories & defeats found in our book of days, where we rub shoulders equally with the God of Holiness as well as the Lord of misrule. That is the threshold & thrust of our stage in life for we all are shadows, ever changing apertures which permit & obscure, reflect & transcend light and truth.

meet Tomoko- our crazy delightful genius friend

I've had the pleasure of knowing Tomoko for a couple of years now. She is a good friend of Cheryl's & one of the many fringe benefits that come with getting married- you incorporate one another's wonderful friends. Tomoko makes these humorous little characters which she calls Po, and they are about the size of your fingernail. I told you she is crazy. If you can imagine that, then just move on further and consider that she makes dozens of these on a semi-daily basis. The Po characters come in all colors and types with their own very small costumes and props. What do you do with a Po? Give them to your friends, exchange them, keep them nearby to remind you that, beside and beneath it all, the world has some unexpected, hidden surprises yet to be discovered. They never fail to brighten a face when someone sees them. She is marketing them through Flickr and Etsy. Come check them out & get to know our wonderful, incredible Tomoko better. She's our bestest Po- we should all be so fortunate to know one.

my amazing wife

meet cheryl. there is much to be said about my wife but it would take forever to even break into a fair description. she pretty much does it all- writes, designs (which she does for a living), makes her own cards & journals and recently had some of her own beautiful designs made into paper prints. and can she knit- she can knit designer chainmail out of snowflakes. why anyone should want to do such a thing i'm not so sure. if you are a knitting freak like she is you should check out her blog at http://yarnbee.blogspot.com/

Just because...

I generally think of such items as vacuous- who is going to read this, what are the chances that they actually know me & who really cares?- but I was reading a small interview which featured the burning question: What 10 CDs would you want to have with you should you happen to be stranded on a desert island. It made me wonder what I would prefer to have with me should such an event occur. It's really a hard question to answer with the limitation of only ten, and it is very likely that I'll go over, but here goes.

Charles Mingus- The Black saint and The Sinner Lady
Carla Bley- Social Studies
Cafe Tecuba- Tiempo Transcurrido
XTC- Drums and Wires
Habib Koite and Bamada- Foley
Brazil Classics 3- Forro etc.
Shooglenifty- Solar Shears
Sonny Rollins- Silver City
Natraj- Meet Me Anywhere
Sufjan Stevens- Greetings From Michigan

Issa Bagayogo- Tassoumakan
Finjan- Crossing Selkirk Avenue
The Rough Guide to South African Gospel

Now aren't you really glad that you took the time to read this? Me too.

P.S. How in the world did I forget The Who's Quadrophenia and The Stone's Exile on Main Street?

The Isle Is Full of Noises

What if, tomorrow, after your coffee,
after your Wheaties, while you're buttoning your clothes—
a dove descends and inspects your chimney?
(What if it doesn't?) Expect nothing. Suppose.

What if, while putting your room in order,
after you've stashed every thing where it goes—
you see that your mirror's haloed in foxfire?
(What if it isn't?)
Expect nothing. Suppose.

What if, during your smoke on the parkbench,
after your cogitations, before your doze—
who should kiss you but a leftover virgin?
(What if she doesn't?)
Expect nothing. Suppose.

What if, suddenly, deep in a bookstore,
a ghost voice comes leap-frogging over the rows—
the voice says, "I love you." It's your father's.
(What if it isn't?)
Expect nothing. Suppose.

What if, one evening, watering your bean patch,
kite-caught, you quicken: you know what God knows-
the salt of your tears withers the sproutlings—
What if it doesn't?

Suppose. Suppose. Suppose.

—SAM HUDSON