fifteenkey

The Last Blog?

2010-04-29T07:31:00.003-04:00

Well, hopefully not the last, but with some technical changes over at blogger.com, my ability to publish here will end tomorrow and won't return until I "create a custom URL" with blogger, or move to another blogging platform like Wordpress.

Anyway... Tonight I'll be doing something I've only dreamed about for a long, long time. No, not that... I try not to dwell on time lost to the past. It's gone, and without it, I'm not sure I'd be at this point in the journey today. It's beautiful here. I always envisioned it as a special place, but reality has soundly trumped expectation.

I'll try to assimilate some thoughts in the flying tube and share them before the lights go out.

Next stop... San Francisco. Can't wait to try the "Rice a' Roni."

After the Scene Dies

2010-04-25T12:01:00.003-04:00

Friday night while doing my best rat in a cage impression on an elliptical machine, I read in Rolling Stone that over 60% of their survey participants said �listening to music� would be their choice if faced with just one leisure activity. I guess it depends how �leisure activity� is defined and on the survey demographics. Readers of �Astounding B Monster� or �The Electric Playground� may not have opted for simply sonic spare time� Regular readers of this space know music has been a regular inspiration of words here, second only to my primary muse. I�m not sure what my third one is� Maybe just vanity venting like the sign says.

Anyway, at about the 49 � minute mark of my workout mix, the Drive By Truckers �After the Scene Dies� (lyrics by Patterson Hood) welcomed me into the final third of my � hour cardio kick. The grinding beat pushed me on, but the words pulled me down and reminded me of one sad fucking soul.

�The graffiti on the back stage wall gets painted over in muted shade
The club becomes an Old Navy
After the scene dies�

�I gotta change my scene.� He used to say that thirty years ago to describe life changes he thought necessary. His �scene� was metaphor for his life and even back then it was one muted by drinking, smoking, inhaling or injecting various poisons that would blur the perceived horror of reality.

�When the last six-string slinger has to bow down for health insurance
and accept the mundane
After the scene dies�

Over the years, partying acquaintances eventually settled down and had to leave his �scene� that wasn�t progressing. One by one, even the hardest partiers achieved some level of clarity and moved on. Not "the scene" though. That season's lowlight was a hallucinogenic powered one on eight battle with the local town police conducted from the top of the station's main entry desk.

�When the last one leaves and the last note fades and the last dream's been put away
Shut the light off / Shut the light off�

Something moved me to open a door that otherwise was ignored so many mornings before. The pale, shaking body was headed toward permanent lights off. A bottle of pills indicated the last dream had been put away. EMT's and narcan kept the scene alive that day, but began to squeeze the life from others in it.

�When the front man turns to Jesus and the drummer moves away
I'll still be doing what pleases me
After the scene dies�

�Jesus loves you� was inscribed in crayon and illustrated with the desperate scribbles of a mind stuck back when the abuse began, and a body incarcerated from a toxin fueled rage. Not long after release, Jesus went back to the sidelines and �the scene� went back to only what pleased him.

�When the bartender passes and the owner cashes out
And they box up the glasses and take the sound system down
Guitars back in their cases
Don't forget my fries
After the scene dies�

Life recently took an old friend long gone from �the scene� and the long tolerant employer finally said �enough.� The sad �scene� reality show is now essentially played out from the proverbial �mother�s basement� and shows no direction for a new season, except for the episode when the stress of �the scene� takes its final toll on Mom.

�Whatcha gonna do when the club shuts down
After the scene dies?�

I worry about what�s going to happen when that scene dies.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f3PIK1j7dH0

Thinking about San Francisco

2010-04-23T07:23:00.002-04:00

One week from this moment, I should be asleep in a San Francisco boutique hotel given high praise from friend and frequent visitor, Jeffro. Our long-weekend itinerary is flexible, but will likely begin with a Friday day-trip to wine country. Since many of you have been to the city by the bay, I�d like your opinions on what you suggest not be missed while we�re there. Here are some of our possibilities:

Napa:

Crushpad
Maisonry Napa Valley
Hendry Vineyard and Winery
Gloria Ferrer Champagne Caves
Domaine Chandon
Cornerstone Gardens (Sonoma)
Bistro Jeantry (Dinner)

Other Road Trips:

Big Sur
Half Moon Bay and Pacifica
Bodega Bay
Monterey-Carmel
Mendocino

In the city:

Amoeba Records in Haight-Ashbury
Legion of Honor
farmerbrown
Museum of Modern Art
Chinatown
Golden Gate Park
Italian Dinner in North Beach
Top of the Mark
Buena Vista (to warm the chill only�)

If you were going to SF for the weekend, what would you not miss?

Heavy Metal

2010-04-16T07:14:00.001-04:00

An acrid, burning asbestos smell caused nasal curiosity for several miles climbing the topology of Route 2 West homeward Wednesday night. Looking for the 18 wheel suspect, I passed several, but the nose nastiness remained. Traffic thinned and about 5 miles from my destination, a white trailer belched grey smoke 100 years ahead. After cutting half the distance, suddenly a dense cloud emerged from mid-undercarriage along with airborne black debris bouncing along the highway. Most of it landed and harmlessly slid to rest, except one piece bouncing along the pavement with the trajectory of a golf ball. I slowed, but with cars behind and aside me, there was very little room for evasion and the object seemed to be erratically fluttering like it was thrown by Tim Wakefield. This all happened very quickly, and as the black plastic defied physics and fell to earth, there was little doubt it would get a piece of me. �F%$#, that�s going to�� A loud, heavy bang thumped over the iPod�s efforts, followed by another along with the feeling my front, passenger tire ran over the heavy metal.

The long white trailer pulled over by the Route 70 exit and I pulled up right behind. Getting out of the car, there was no doubt where the smell was coming from. After checking oncoming traffic in the side-view, I got out and walked forward for inspection. The front lower �fin� was pretty badly smashed, and the plastic housing around the running light was hanging off.

Back in my car, I sent a text message as the trailed driver inspected his undercarriage. A State Trooper pulled up behind me and proceeded to walk around my car. �Are you OK? Is it just the front and the door?� �The door,� I replied surprised. Yeah, the door. Whatever the piece was, it somehow ripped into the lower grill, went under the tire, then exited out the side, ripping a gouge between the front quarter-panel and the door, which now makes a loud, metallic wrenching sound when opened.

Not too bad, I suppose. It�s just a car. Although, it did occur to me what the damage might have been if the mind of metal picked my windshield for a hello kiss. In that case, the trooper might have inspected permanent and irreparable damage. I was lucky.

I�ve never liked heavy metal.

Milestones

2010-04-10T11:17:00.001-04:00

You know those �mile markers� along highways? Yeah, them. Wikipedia states, �Milestones are constructed to provide reference points along the road. This can be used to reassure travellers that the proper path is being followed, and to indicate either distance travelled or the remaining distance to a destination.�

Modern milestones along highways also reflect, which is what we humans do when we reach one. We consider the span traversed and perhaps ponder the proper path proposition (sorry, the cheesy alliteration was irresistible...). In some cases we calculate the remaining distance to a destination�

Obviously what�s really important is everything between what gets measured� The infinity of life lives between those markers and they reflect to remind us to live as if every single moment is a milestone. What milestones have you experienced lately? Here are some of mine.

An unsolicited, �I love you� from Maddy one morning this week as I left for work.
Smiles.
The crushing blow (not) of a 1-3 Red Sox start.
Seeing two of my favorite bands in 6 days.
The bright beauty of fire.
Megan�s job joy.
Professional affirmation.
The girls.
The Kronos cafeteria featuring Buffalo chicken wrap and Italian Wedding soup on the same day!
A beer with my brother.
July in April.
Walking.
Empathy.
Love.
Red cleats.
The spiritual void of a home without that little life.
The sweet destruction of a chainsaw.
Writing.
Exercise.
Being there.
Right now.

Wilco Spaceship

2010-04-08T21:00:00.003-04:00

Wilco�s thirty-five song, near three hour long march was otherworldly last night in �Con-Cord� (Jeff Tweedy butchered it�) New Hampshire. It may have been the best Wilco show I�ve seen among the 8-10 I�ve attended. Um, on second thought, one I attended in 1995 is probably tops, given I stood about 10 feet from Boston�s Paradise stage, and the brand new band had to dip into the Tweedy Uncle Tupelo catalog to play a whole show. My date was a trooper, but with about 14 stress balls in the air, she might have been who Tweedy was addressing when he said, �Concord, have we worn you out?� By song thirty or so she was on the ropes, but wrote this morning: �The band really is good, I enjoyed both the hard guitars and the acoustic sounds, everything except for when the spaceship landed.� (For a sample of the spaceship, you can sample some of the bands sonic seismology beginning at the 5:15 mark of �I Am Trying To Break Your Heart� below. )

Walking out of the beautiful Capitol Theatre into the warm July night, we were just an hour and a half and a near exhaustion of petrol away from home. �Maybe next time I'll know more Wilco...� Yeah, I think so. You can start with my favorites in this set list, courtesy of Wilco fan site, Via Chicago.

I�d like to write more tonight, but Wilco wore me out�

"The Price Is Right" theme music intro

Wilco (the song)

I Am Trying To Break Your Heart

Ashes of American Flags

Bull Black Nova

You Are My Face

One Wing

A Shot in the Arm

At Least That's What You Said

Radio Cure

Handshake Drugs

Impossible Germany

I'll Fight

California Stars

Poor Places

acoustic set

Spiders (Kidsmoke)

You and I

Why Would You Wanna Live

Cars Can't Escape

Hesitating Beauty

War on War

Laminated Cat

Passenger Side

back to electric

Airline To Heaven

Summer teeth

Misunderstood

Can't Stand It

Jesus, etc. (crowd singalong)

You Never Know

Heavy Metal Drummer

Hate It Here

Walken

I'm The Man Who Loves You

In The Street [Big Star]

encore

Hoodoo Voodoo

I'm A Wheel

And three words

2010-04-06T06:56:00.003-04:00

�Enjoy your show.� Those words were comforting text from a loved one who was carrying a heart full of Good Friday heaviness. My body was at Boston�s House of Blues, but my head and heart were home. I needed the towering amps to blow through my soul and I asked the Facebook faithful to pray, vibe or use the force... for good. And they both did.

I�d really been looking forward to the Drive By Truckers, and they brought it, but the set list was so catalog deep and of such varied tempo, that to me, it was like a frustrating at bat against an aging Mike Mussina, full of change ups, slow curveballs and the occasional number one. I wanted all high heat.

Not to say it wasn�t a good show. It was, and the 2,449 other people carpeting the floor and papering the walls with sticky spilled drinks seemed to be in unified sway. �Patterson, you�re the f&^%ing man,� was the very direct review of a guy near me. Yeah, Patterson Hood is the man, and his songwriting is stellar, but �the moment� of the show for me was during a song by Hood�s number two, Mike Cooley. �Birthday Boy� is such a fun, rockin� song, and the moment came at the 3:08 � 3:18 point in this video. At the HOB, that�s when Patterson rose to his Mike with the biggest smile to sing this harmony with his partner Cooley who penned the words:

�I guess that's why they give us names

So a few old men can say they saw us
rain when we were young.�

To see that unadulterated joy of a guy who loves what he does and really appreciated the words of another, got me. I thought about one �Mr. G.,� Tony Gonnella. He got so much joy out of seeing his son Mike and I rain when we were young. Then I thought about Mike. And Arizona in August. And how I got here. And three words. And how I couldn�t wait to get home.

Placeholder

2010-03-30T07:35:00.001-04:00

Sorry to my ones of readers for the lack of language lately. Deep in the blast-proof underworld of this space live words about living a more non-virtual life. I am. Sometimes words fail us and lately I�m whiffing on attempts to describe the present. I stare at the blinking vertical black cursor and nothing. There it is again. Now I�m chasing it like the crocodile chasing the pirate, except I�ll never enjoy the satisfaction of engulfing it. It�s always one click ahead. Elusive. It�s a carrot and I�m after it. I can only hope that what�s left in its digital wake is satisfying. I have a story to tell. It�s got everything. It�s a story where Monday is Saturday and Saturday defies description. Walk beside me and I�ll tell you all. We�ll make it up as we go. Just like when my kids were children. I�d start the story and they�d take turns filling in the blanks. Monsters became princes. Rivers always reached the sea. Loss turned to love. And somehow Jaws always showed up to eat the hero and had to be written out of the script...

We�re not in Kansas anymore.

Chatham Physics

2010-03-24T22:20:00.000-04:00

Saturday morning I joked about the marketing term "an idyllic retreat" to describe our 36 hour cape getaway, followed by a quantum physics effort to slow time down... I don�t know where to begin or end, but since there is none, it doesn�t matter. There were so many moments that will defy the laws of time as long as my memory can. There was a five minute dueling fit of laughter and two mothers engaged in a serious conversation while ones hairdo resembled Dr. Emmet Brown from �Back to the Future,� though it wasn�t the source of the hilarity. Crystal night clarity revealed constellations to walk under and a targeted moon haze to marvel. Water glistened golden on lakes and soaring silver outside our ocean deck. Whole grapes and their fermented juices were shared with the best crackers ever. Sunday walking to Huevos rancheros and coffee, a pair who spoke for themselves: Muy Bueno! Knotty Pine, skylights, outdoor showers, dirty carpets and unstained shingles blurred through the hours. One image is indelible. A beautiful, slender left hand draped lifelessly over a right shoulder, gently brushed by sleeping hair. It hung there weightless and I watched it for awhile without touching it. I couldn�t. I didn�t want to alter the perfection of it. I thought about taking a picture, but I never could have captured the moment that lives in my mind. Quantum physics is cool.

Drive-By Opportunity

2010-03-17T13:04:00.003-04:00

Once upon a time, my partners and I had a chance to sign a Southern band to our itty bitty Tar Hut (I�ll buy you a drink if you get that lyrical reference without googling�) label in the late 90�s, but we passed� Actually, once when we were in Hotlanta, Dave and I met with a woman who was really pushing them, but that meeting didn�t go well. Last time we saw her, she was driving the wrong way on one way... Anyway, I have no idea if they would have signed with us, but I recall our inner sanctum debate of their front man�s incredible songwriting and voice versus not wanting to become a �schtick� label. After all, Angry Johnny & the Killbillies got us started, and one of their sonic tools was a chainsaw. Since then though, the Drive By Truckers have sold a schtick-load of records.

The only time I saw the band was in 2006 at the old Avalon club on Lansdowne Street across from Fenway Park�s Green Monster. Jeffro described the band�s performance that night as a �3 guitar assault� and �the show of the year.� And it was� Sadly, guitarist-songwriter Jason Isbell left the band after that tour and it left a hole in the lineup for me.

Until yesterday.

Their new one is called �The Big To Do� and it�s burning up the LeoPod.

To give you a little taste tease (like eating only one Cheeze-It), here�s their performance on Letterman last Friday night. Actually, you can stream (and then buy) the whole record at www.drivebytruckers.com.

The DBT�s will bring their guitars and Marshall amps, freshly brined in Jack Daniels and sweat, to Boston�s House of Blues Friday, April 2nd.

Go. General Admission floor�

On Krak�

2010-03-15T22:02:00.002-04:00

I remember watching him stare at the canvas, a Marlboro Light 100 dangling from his white bearded mouth and the debris of extinguished tobacco fighting gravity, seconds from becoming accidental pigment. We were usually listening to Petty, or during one phase, recycling the Who�s 1981 �Face Dances� waiting for the magic that never happened. The band redeemed themselves with �It�s Hard� a couple years later, but by then I�d moved back home. While �Krak� created incredible, enduring images, I consumed his Forbes magazines and became indoctrinated to Malcolm Forbes style capitalism.

A 1985 road trip to the Southwest provided a brief reunion and a satisfying Mexican meal with he and Dillard at a bowling alley in Albuquerque, NM, but I hadn�t seen or heard from Tom Graham �Kraker� since.

Until Facebook.

Now Mr. Graham is a teacher and my tormenter. An intellectual conservative. An oxymoron perhaps, but not a Palin loving moron. He�s a real conservative. A William F. Buckley conservative. He makes me think. Always did. Tonight he commented on a post I wrote: �You have a gift. I felt like it happened to me. Still waiting for a book from you!�

With encouragement like that, maybe you�ll get one.

The Voice of God

2010-03-14T12:39:00.001-04:00

Let me post preface by stating I�m not buying the �guy in the sky� with harps and pearly gates, but now that I�m actually paying attention when in a house of the holy, I am beginning to understand. Last night�s 5:00 gathering was a good one, mostly because of the wonderful voice of the elder directly behind me in Pew 43, Seat 6. Actually, I only envisioned the old man, but looked forward to the �Peace be with you� moment when I could tell him I enjoyed his tenor.

The gospel was a long-un, but reading along, it told the story of a wealthy man with two sons, one of whom jumped the nest with his early inheritance to blow on basically, hookers and um, blow. Anyway, after junior hits bottom, he heads home and is lovingly welcomed by his father, much to the annoyance of the brother. In spite of what the son had done, the father welcomed him back with unconditional love. Without knowing �the rest of the story,� we can speculate whether the father�s act was prudent or just one of enablement with a bad ending� Whatever. It gave me some perspective on something personal to me.

The homily was titled, �Christianity is for losers.� As Father Tim talked about loss, I looked around the church and took in the faithful. It was mostly a blue-collar crowd and I realized Joyce and I were probably among the most fortunate in the room. I thought about how many struggle with paying bills, battling illness, or wrestling more elusive emotional or spiritual demons. The sermon described a black man about to be lynched by a white mob of his neighbors. The local pastor halted the proceedings to read the man�s will. He left all his possessions to those under the sheets for the acts of kindness they had shown him through life. They all left quietly in shocked silence from the love they�d been shown.

Buddha, Jesus, Mohammed� To me, they are examples of how to live, not gods. In the category of �what would Jesus do,� I think if he saw the fuss made over him in the last 2,000 years or so, he�d be embarrassed. To me, if going to church can help people be humble, kind or loving to each other even a fraction more than they were before, that�s a huge benefit. A �force� if you will.

I couldn�t wait for the �let us offer each other the sign of peace.� Well, for one I got a kiss, but at that moment I wanted to tell the old gentleman behind me how much I�d enjoyed his singing. When I turned, the old man was gone. In his place was a large, 40-ish man who looked to be somehow disabled. I can�t describe it better than a �vacancy� in his look. My comment about his singing was lost on him. At least that was my perception. I thought of a young man with a beautiful voice and a heart full of love�

Back in the car I had so much to say, but �that was worth it� said it all.

Breathe in the miracle

2010-03-09T19:24:00.006-05:00

For some reason, tears of a clown appeared when I read this: �The mere fact that there is a world at all is so miraculous, so impossible to explain, that we should, in recognition and faith of that, be continually awestruck and joyful, in spite of any lacks we may feel in our daily lives.�

It was very odd that while Maddy napped next to me and Kyle auditioned for the lead in �Wicked� from his room downstairs, I was overwhelmed on Saturday afternoon reading that little passage in �Dr. Quantum's Little Book Of Big Ideas: Where Science Meets Spirit,� by Fred Alan Wolf, Ph.D.

Why? Was it just a �Dude, we could be just a speck under my fingernail� stoner moment, or something else? Well, just think about how freakin� heavy (not the gravitational suck �heavy�) it is that we�re here. I get the same wave of emotion at times when I look at my little granddaughter, Maddy. It�s never when she�s doing something special, it�s just when she�s being. Witnessing that little life in those simple moments is massively awe inspiring and sometimes overwhelming.

Give yourself a treat. Clear the clutter, focus for just a moment and take in the slightest bit of the beauty and love in your life. Think about the enormity that you and it exists. It feels good. Do it.

No Fear

2010-03-06T09:44:00.003-05:00

This morning began with one little bird chirp sprouting from somewhere in the massive oak tree hovering above my stucco bungalow. Then another. It was as if word was being passed along the hundreds of dormant branches: �Wake the kids. Spring is near.� In his poem Locksley Hall, Alfred Lord Tennyson wrote, �In the spring a young man�s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.� My fancy has been there since the fall, and actually long before that, but for reasons untold, this bright morning I�m thinking baseball.

Exactly four weeks from tomorrow is Opening Day for the Red Sox. Well, actually it�s opening night with an 8:05 ESPN tilt against the� yep, the Bombers. The �World Champion New York Yankees.� Man, even after the epic �greatest comeback / biggest choke� in the history of professional sports in 2004, it�s still not easy to cough up that Yankee hairball. Anyway, one reason the Yanks are champs and the Sox naught is still tilting the American League East equation this year� The Red Sox have no fear in their lineup, and the Yankees, um, do.

Sox GM Theo Epstein has stated, �We actually have nine guys on our club who hit 25 or more home runs in a season.� Yeah Theo, but those were career years for many of them, and right now, not one of them strikes fear in an opposing pitcher, and that�s a problem. Theo�s a numbers guy, and his calculus has produced two world championships, but what�s getting lost in the Sabermetrics is that the game is played with emotion by human beings, and in the biggest situations you need emotion on your side, and one of the most important is fear.

Aside from their tremendous ability to hit, the 3-4 combo of David Ortiz and Manny Ramirez in their prime was psychologically devastating to opponents because they struck fear into the hearts and minds of pitchers. Let�s say it�s the 8th inning and the Sox were down 2-0 with the top of the lineup coming to bat. Not only would the pitcher have to worry about Jacoby Ellsbury and JD Drew, but they�d be especially worried knowing Papi and Manny were to follow. So they�d have a little less focus on Ellsbury� They�d press� They�d squeeze the red stitching a little tighter. With heightened emotions, missing a close pitch aggravates them more than it should. They squeeze. They over throw. Ball four. Ellsbury�s on and becomes another worry. "Shit, if Drew gets on, I�m screwed. I can�t walk him." Drew knows it and laces a first pitch fastball that caught too much of the plate the opposite way. Big Papi lumbers toward the spotlight� We know how the rest of the story usually turned out.

That�s how big innings happen. It�s rare that a team just bashes the baseball hitter after hitter. There are hits, yes, but mental errors caused by pressure, caused in large part by fear, fuel those innings. Right now the Yankees and every other team have nothing to fear but the Red Sox getting Adri�n Gonz�lez...

Pregnant Pause

2010-03-01T21:48:00.002-05:00

I�m trying. I really am. One birthday present for the newly working-out Megan was the latest �Women�s Health,� with the gorgeous Paula Patton (�Precious�) on the cover. Honestly, it caught my eye because her body really reminded me of um, this friend of mine. Yeah, she�s way too young and hot for me, but that�s not really important right now. Anyway, as said friend and I watched the Vancouver Winter Games closing ceremony, I thought I�d earn some points by handing her the magazine and saying, �you look this good.� She flipped through the magazine eventually arriving at the article on Ms. Patton. I was feeling pretty good as I scanned other very flattering pictures that naturally would make my friend feel even more beautiful...

�She�s five months pregnant,� was what I heard as the magazine left airspace and landed in my lap. There was some silence, but I scrambled for recovery, �hey, there�s Neil Young.� Neil was standing alone in black under the "Superman" movie-like ice pillars with acoustic guitar and harmonica. As he sang �Long May You Run� to the athletes and the world, the flames died out around him. Pretty much the same thing I�d achieved a few minutes earlier.

Sunday Best?

2010-02-27T16:13:00.002-05:00

Looking at this picture, it�s a wonder my brother Kevin isn�t really screwed up. Well, I mean more than he is now. What was my mother thinking dressing him �totally plaid?� And is that a freakin� beret? Now look at me. Totally sweet threads! Navy blazer� Gray slacks� White shirt� Hankie� Stylin�, baby! Jeez� Kevin looks like a midget from �Cirque de Plaid.� Sadly, the kid on the right, Kevin Gatti, died in a fire shortly after we moved from East Boston to Wakefield. I remember hearing that as the house on Homer Street was being engulfed, Kevin appeared at a second floor window and was encouraged to jump. He disappeared back into the deadly cloud�

Anyway, this was a happier day, probably a Sunday before or after church at St. Mary�s off Bennington Street. I loved going to that big old church with my grandmother Lily� I don�t recall going with my parents. Maybe they weren�t into it. My mother developed a pretty strong faith later in her life. I guess faith can help you get through some tough stretches of life road. I know it's helped her. Anyway, I went to the school there through second grade. I had a wicked crush on Sister Laura, but once we got to Wakefield, a mortgage payment replaced tuition and I was on a different path. One that brought me here.

So� here. I have no regrets about the journey and am quite happy where it�s currently winding. Oh, gotta go. I'm winding over to the 5:00 Mass. I hope to hear something interesting. Now where�s my plaid blazer?

Win-Win

2010-02-23T21:01:00.003-05:00

Last night after cranking my heart rate at 155 for the last half of a 30 minute elliptical endurance, I arrived home to a healthy Megan prepared meal: tacos. [For the record, the 155 bpm is the 80% target for a 30 year old� Note to self: Don�t die.] After crunching down 2 with about 4 bites, a taco minus the crunchy corn home sounded less bad, so I tossed the ingredients into one of Maddy�s little plastic bowls� a fuchsia one. As I turned from the stove, I caught the little blond with my �Chapix,� or �Chap-Stick� for those of you who don�t speak Maddy-ese. �Give me that Chapix,� I said sternly. She�s now a serial �Chapix� thief having clipped 3 from me, so yeah, I was serious. Regardless, rather than cowering consensus from Miss Madison, the following negotiation took place:

�Papa, that�s my bowl.�
�Well, can I use it?�
�No.� (I sensed the sting was in play.)
�Can I use it if I let you use my Chapix?�
�Yes.�

She�s 28 months old� I used to joke about how negotiating with Megan was tougher than with any lawyer. I can now gleefully imagine future Blond-on-Blonde negotiations. I think that�s called Karma.

Reruns and Viewer Mail

2010-02-13T14:36:00.003-05:00

As much as I'd like to write my annual Valentine's Day rant, uh... I'm busy, so you'll have to be entertained with re-runs and viewer mail... Sorry.

Love is Blindness - February 14, 2007

Happy Hallmark Day - February 14, 2006

Fifteenkey has received some Valentine's Day feedback:

Jenny writes, "I think its a chance for people who have trouble normally expressing how they feel to let it out without feeling weird...some people are just not comfortable with expressing themselves romantically all of the time...so on one day a year they can be as mushy as they may feel all year...but not be open enough to communicate..."

For the record, I'm not crazy about that term, "mushy."

Esmeralda joins in, "...at least the outcome is generally pretty positive with this valentine stuff: people expressing thoughts of caring to one another. It could be worse."

Yes indeed, Esmeralda. It certainly could.

Souper Bol Tips for Girls

2010-02-06T11:13:00.002-05:00

Strict copyright enforcement by the non-lingerie (as far as I know) football league prohibits my use of the proper term of tomorrow�s �big game� without the express, written consent of the� You get it, right? I can�t write �Super Bowl,� so you won�t see it here�

Anyway, I don�t want to generalize or be sexist in any way, but let�s face it, many of you ladies don�t have a clue about tomorrow�s game, so I�m here to help you engage your cave-men in their natural habitat and impress them with your football chops. And no, �football chops� are not something you serve after the nachos� Let�s get started, shall we?

First of all, the Indianapolis Colts used to be the Baltimore Colts and while the New Orleans Saints have always been from New Orleans, Archie Manning, their first big star, will be rooting for Baltimore� Uh, I mean Indy� Got it?

OK, so I want to give you some contextual nuggets to sprinkle into the testosterone and hot sauce fueled pigskin talk. Stuff you can say at just the right time to let the boys know you�re not just another pretty face� For example, early in the game when Indy gets a key defensive stop (whoa, this is going to be harder than I thought�). Re-do� Any time Indy�s defense (that�s when they don�t have the ball) stops the Saints on what appears (based on cavemen reaction) to be an exciting play, wait for the din to subside and say, �it�s amazing how the Colts �D� has played without Sanders.� Bob Sanders is an outstanding safety (that�s a football position) who�s been out injured with �a knee� since early in the season. Trust me, the boys will be impressed.

This one is a little more sophisticated and is really a two parter� When the Colts have the ball, but are not successfully passing and Peyton (Archie�s kid) Manning appears frustrated, say �Wow, Marvin Harrison has been invisible today!� Now the guys will snicker and may try to ridicule you because in fact, Marvin Harrison, a long time Indy star receiver, is retired. When one of the he-men points that out, say �I guess you missed the irony of that, eh?�

Finally, here�s one you can serve with crackers or melted over nachos� When (and if) the Saints appear headed for a touchdown, try �I think the Saints are going to go marching in��

Enjoy the game! Oh, and hon, can you get me another beer?

�on that hill with everything I got��

2010-01-31T15:32:00.002-05:00

�Darkness.� That was my immediate response to a friend�s inquiry years ago regarding what Bruce record to start with. It was a no brainer really since I was living there in self-imposed exile. Bruce was a pretty pissed off dude after fighting with his label for nearly 3 years after �Born to Run� and that anger spewed out from the opening of �Badlands,� and the theme of �paying the price� for what you want in this life lives in every black groove of that vinyl right through to the title track. Two or three of these songs would make a career for a successful musician, but this guy exorcised quite a bit in 3 years and came up with ten.

Side one
1. "Badlands"
2. "Adam Raised a Cain"
3. "Something in the Night"
4. "Candy's Room"
5. "Racing in the Street"

Side two
1. "The Promised Land"
2. "Factory"
3. "Streets of Fire"
4. "Prove It All Night"
5. "Darkness on the Edge of Town"

It took me a little longer than 3 years, and ironically during it, some musicians fought with my label (One was always Angry), but I managed to leave that behind, pay the price (we had debts�) and slowly crawl out of the darkness. Well, it wasn�t always dark, but friend Jeff did literally help me move back from the edge of town. Since then, a new dawn slowly emerged with a little help from my friends, culminating under a blazing desert sun and the bright heart of a dear friend.

I still embrace the dark, but everybody needs some light and I'm finding there's still quite a bit of growing to do in it�

[Facebookers see blog for video...]

Touch Too Much

2010-01-25T21:33:00.005-05:00

Driving to Tucson, Arizona was an annual August trek for Dillard and I back in the late 70�s. We had a medium-sized cassette tape case with a couple dozen rock assortments. One that got heavy, heavy airplay, especially on those long, hot, desolate and damn straight stretches was AC/DC�s �Highway to Hell.� The album was released in the States by Atlantic Records, but it should have come out on Epic, because that�s what it is.

On Amazon.com, rock critic David Cantwell writes, �What Highway to Hell has that Back in Black doesn't is Bon Scott�� That�s it. Bon Scott. Bon had a voice like an arc welder and it cut through the heavy metal coming out of the guitars brothers Angus and Malcolm were grinding. The record is amazing, and it kicked off several years of rock enjoyment, including a stint as �Air Bon� with the Gonnella boys air guitaring the roof off the old Dooley�s club in Tucson.

Now I wrote about that night, but did not provide any photographic evidence of the performance. Well, tonight� I�m not going to either. I know some snapshots of that first show exist (I think �Angus� may have them), but what I do have are a couple publicity photos from our second show with body art care of Kraker�s sister Nancy. Since I�m very guilty of using �stuff� I�ve found on Facebook in Powerpoint presentations and other public medium, it is risky to �out� these photos, but let�s face it, there�s a certain �attention whore� aspect to blogging, so obviously I just don�t care, but I hope Dillard will comment and explain the "Rocky Horror" makeup that I clearly passed on...

We had a freakin� blast rocking out and had no, none, nada, zippo inhibitions being up on stage looking like idiots �air� rocking. We were totally into it and the crowd reactions told us it worked. The music drove us... along with the attention thing. Primal music like this�

Chocolate Cosmo Coma

2010-01-24T20:04:00.002-05:00

I believe the way to a woman�s heart is through her stomach, and the dinner menu I prepared was a perfectly designed express lane with equal parts of my guests 3 key C�s: Cosmos, Carbs and Chocolate. I opened impressively with a Caprese salad appetizer, with mozzarella balls speared on toothpicks with cherry tomatoes, basil, and a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Good start, right? A small loaf of fresh French bread soaked up the glistening liquids remaining after the disappearing act on red and white orbs. A Chicken Mushroom Risotto was reducing its way toward completion, and �French Cosmopolitans� with fresh squeezed lime, Grey Goose, Grand Marnier and fresh Acai juice provided ample anti-oxidants and wider smiles. The rice concoction was good, not great, but risotto dishes are always experimental for me, so next time I�ll employ the lessons learned. Unfortunately a few more painful lessons still lay ahead�

After going three for three, a pretty good �night at the plate,� if you know what I�m saying, the dark chocolate fondue was going to be a home run� Touch �em all, pal! Well, um, as my guest noted, making desserts is very much about chemistry and when I missed one little detail, our chemistry cooled like liquid nitrogen. Oh, not really. She did scoff a few pieces of fresh fruit dipped in the clumpy, oily mess, but it was just gross. My mojo damaged by the limp dip, I panicked and made another round of cosmo�s before we got comfortable and searched for a movie. Since I couldn�t find �Crazy Heart� or �The Wrestler,� our search became less focused and I calculated that my Cosmo plied friend would quickly lose interest in �Spinal Tap,� leaving me as her only option�

About ten minutes into the classic rock mocumentary, I sensed my plan was working as she turned toward me and purred, �If you wanted to pick a movie I�d lose interest in, you succeeded.� �YES! That�s right, I�m the man!� I thought... Wanting to play it cool, I continued chuckling at the ridiculous lines of the film, and laughed out loud at Nigel Tufnel�s classic rock god line, �We've got Armadillos in our trousers. It's really quite frightening.� It was at that point I was the one horrified as I discovered there actually was another option for my dinner date besides me, and that was a very sound sleep! Yep, she was resting quite beautifully and I didn�t have the heart to wake her, although there was a strong argument made by another participant in my self-conversation. Yeah, it was a classic angel/devil on each shoulder confrontation. While those two argued, I tried to focus on the movie, but it just wasn�t as funny anymore.

So, as a public service, I offer you guys out there the following tips for a successful romantic dinner. Actually, �go to a nice restaurant� may be the only tip you need, but if you�re going to try the culinary bad arts thing:

Reading recipes before consuming cosmos is a good idea.
When making a chocolate fondue, �remove from heat once the heavy cream reaches a boil��
Cosmopolitans kick ass, so if you do screw up the fondue, don�t panic and make more drinks. Serve ice water instead.
Trying to �play it cool� will often result in you playing by yourself. When she turns on toward you, it�s time to turn Nigel off.

This Emotional Life

2010-01-22T09:18:00.004-05:00

�Life is a journey through time, and happiness
happens when we travel it together.�
- Professor Daniel Gilbert, host of �This Emotional Life.�

I caught that little gem as another episode of PBS�s �This Emotional Life� was winding down last night. It�s so true for many of us, but not always easy to engage depending on the cosmic plane we happen to exist at any given moment�

My cosmic plane at the moment resembles this groovy baby and any regular contributor or lurker of this space knows how I landed it... Arizona� Mayor of Anthem� People�

Speaking of emotion, I nearly experienced the splashy version last night after speaking with my Dad. It was the strangest and best phone call we�ve ever had and he made it. My usually stoic father was engaging, joking and happy. I asked if he had new meds� �No.� "Smoking pot?" �Well, I smoked some last week�� (followed by laughter) �You got a new blue-haired girlfriend?� (Dad laughing) �You son of a bitch�� It was so cool. The call lacked the usual update on sugar levels, water pills and cataracts, and instead focused on his experiences with friends� �Dickie Greene was raving about how I hit �em today!�

The old man was on a roll and peppered me with inquiries about my brothers, mother, Maddy, Megan, Kyle and Joyce� WTF? Who is this guy? Just for a day anyway, it seems this guy Dad is a happy human. Experiencing that moved my cosmic emotional plane into even more rarified airspace.

The Man in the Mirror

2010-01-20T06:05:00.001-05:00

This really isn�t what President Obama had in mind to celebrate one year in office today, but if he�s searching for answers why Scott Brown won last night, he can find it in front of him when he�s shaving this morning.

�Are you bummed out and writing an angry political blog?� I didn�t read this text message until I awoke to a replay of Scott Brow�s victory speech around 4:30AM. No, my dear, I�m not angry.

In my heart, I knew this thing was over last week when that Suffolk poll came out, and I wrote about my own discontent with the timid stance of my President toward the banks who own us. I believe that�s the main issue here. According to an election day Rasmussen poll, approximately 20% of Democrats voted for Brown. They provided the margin of victory and their votes were not a referendum on health care, they were an expression of frustration that their President and his Democratic majority in Congress have not fought for them.

Most importantly though, Senator-Elect Brown won a majority of middle class voters. In my own very middle-class Fitchburg-Leominster area, the numbers were a crushing 59%/40% and 63%/36% respectively in favor of the winner. Those disaffected voters, in my opinion, would benefit from health care reform, but always seem to get screwed no matter what party is in power. They�ve had enough.

The Obama White House and national Democratic squawks are blaming the Coakley campaign and their candidate. She was weak and ran like she was entitled to the seat, but is there any doubt who would be the winner this morning if the �other� Joe Kennedy had run?
Firing back at their national critics, Coakley pollster Celinda Lake contends their campaign was �hampered by the failure of the White House and Congress to confront Wall Street.� I agree.

Ms Lake continued, �If Scott Brown wins tonight he'll win because he became the change-oriented candidate. Voters are still voting for the change they voted for in 2008, but they want to see it. And right now they think they've got economic policies for Washington that are delivering more for banks than Main Street.�

I hope my president stops the bleeding of this little nick by leading and actually delivering the change he promised. If he doesn�t, the blue blood will really run in November.

Chicken Wire

2010-01-18T07:46:00.003-05:00

I meant to post about the Joe Pernice show last week, but you know, life happens and I don�t have infinite hours to write this nonsense. I found myself having dinner with two of my favorite women in the world, one just released from Typhoid quarantine and the other a refugee flood victim. The pair seemed to be having a good time when suddenly both of them attempted to dump me simultaneously. After some guilt-inducing banter, Barb decided to stay for the show. (See us in the back corner?) I don�t think she was sorry.

Joe Pernice is a poet with a voice and a skill for arrangement that can make a song about napalming a village of little girls and bunny rabbits sound beautiful. (Note: Joe doesn�t have such a song.) I had forgotten about my Ray Neades post a few weeks ago when Joe mentioned Ray and played my highlight of the night, �Grudge Fuck� in his honor. Again, the title sounds pretty horrible, but it�s actually a beautiful song, albeit a �little stalkerish.�

One weird thing was a very loud request for a song off the Pernice Brothers 1998 debut �Overcome By Happiness.� Joe chuckled at the request and then launched into about 30 seconds of just nailing it, before suddenly stopping and saying, �That�s it. That�s all your getting.� I guess maybe the woman with a drink in her hand didn�t die in the garage this time.