Sink in

My feet haven't really hit the floor since I drove out of Austin a few weeks ago. I told my sister it still really feels like I'm in transition and I'm doing what I can to expedite the... whatever it is.

Things are good, though. This whole area is rich with activity, active people and active places.

I took my bike on the DC Metro down to the center of the political world a couple days ago. It was a Saturday so I didn't have to deal with too much traffic. A police officer forcefully banished me from a particular road in front of the White House. But it was otherwise easy riding.

I actually got off the metro at 930a and was out riding until about 430. I saw every monument I could find and then some. I paused somewhere North of the White House and went to Subway. I went to the park to eat and... that was alright. It was basically a big ass ravine... like... you slip, you die. I did not slip. I ate a footlong construction with chicken teriyaki and the sweetest onion sauce in all the land.

It feels weird saying it, but I was more comfortable riding in the streets in downtown DC than I am here in the burbs. I don't know. Maybe it makes sense. Maybe it's because it was a Saturday. Maybe it's just because there's more pavement. Whatever the reason, the pavement was kind to me there.

I was out for about 8 hours and... I think the only person I talked to was the person who made my sandwich for lunch. Ah I bought a homeless guy a Sprite, too. When he asked me if I would buy him something from the grocery store, I said, "Yeah man. What do you need?" He replied, "Ah man, I want some french toast!" Last I checked, precooked and prepackaged french toast was pretty hard to come by at the grocery store. I actually check for these things from time to time. Anyway, we settled on a Sprite and... yeah. I talked to that guy.

I had one way conversations with the quotes inscribed on the walls of the Lincoln and Jefferson memorials. I'm certain the Jefferson memorial is the most beautiful. And looking to the South, I could only stand still. The memorial itself is structurally open with many large columns surrounding the effigy and supporting the dome overhead. After reading the mountainous quotes overhead, I wandered out the back of the sanctuary and let the wind from behind take my eyes far out in front of me and show me what the hills might have looked like centuries ago. Highways and signs dissolved and there were only slow hills. It forced me to consider with strength the pieces of land which undoubtedly sowed the peaces of mind from which our national fiber was borne. What a time that must have been. Pre-industrial revolution... horses and thunder were still the loudest distractions imaginable on any given day. At the risk of committing to a full-on rambling escapade, I'd just like to state that the founding fathers' individual enlightenment, as unnatural as it was in their time, seems thunderous indeed to the natural environment in which they were living. It's comforting to know these things gave way to such great discoveries. And it reassures my quiet lifestyle. Focusing so hard at my new job, I needed to state this tonight.

I was completely worn out and was not... really... able to stand when I made it back to the metro station that evening. I hadn't ridden in about a month. But as it happened, the city was doing maintenance on the rail system that afternoon and evening. So I was able to reflect on the day a bit sooner than I had expected. It took twenty minutes to get into town and two hours to get back. But there was a sweet girl who wanted to smile at a dirty fucking guy on a bike at the King Street platform. And that made me less exhausted for a short while. Then the metro came and our visual romance ended.

I've started my new job and it feels like I'm in space. Before I get into my new job, and while I'm thinking about space, I need to record something which beached my mental ship this afternoon. It's inspirational in nature. And it's sensory. It's comfortable to me.

At Valentine's Day, I used to say the green candy hearts tasted like grass. They actually taste like something closer to feet. But back when I was stupid enough to ingest these green candy hearts, they reminded me of the smell of grass. I know, I know. Yes... I ate grass when I was a kid, too. But I'm talking about the scent... I'm talking about cross-sensory relation. This is like when love feels like you're skydiving or when certain candy makes you feel like you're wearing your Halloween costume from nineteen eighty-something. I had one of those moments of irregular sensory relation earlier today... a mild synesthetic event.

This pairing really, truly exposes my admiration of a particular musical entity. I recently stumbled upon a simply amazing video (in my opinion, of course). I won't describe it just in case anyone cares to watch it. It's important you watch it full screen with sound on the first time through... and don't skip forward. Just wait. Click the link and don't even read the description. Cause the surprise is half the fun. You might need to turn your volume DOWN a touch, but having sound is quite rewarding after... i don't know... the first third of the video.

I was listening to my songs earlier with my headphones, and "I Remember" by Yeasayer started. It reminded me of the sensation I got the first time I saw the video from above. I'll leave it at that. It's not really something I can convey in any more detail.

Alright. Enough mental meanderings. I'm headlong into my new job and as I told my friend earlier tonight, it feels like I'm straddling a freight train every second of every hour on the clock. I actually brought a small portion of the train home with me tonight and am currently listening to my (half-assed) French submersion and Fredo Viola while I wait for one of the servers to finish stomping several thousand customers' bills into tri-fold pdfs. It's madness. I feel like a crazy-ass Santa Claus with several multi-core reindeer at the end of the reins. Granted, my gifts suck. But I'm fat and happy, generally speaking.

I'm living very, very close to my office... about 4 miles. I've been putting in 10-14 hour days consistently since I started last Monday. But it feels like... it fucking feels like marathon recording sessions... the last thing I can think of I did consistently for such long amounts of time with so much interest, intent and happiness. Hours go by like someone greased the clock's gears a little too well. I've had one minor flub so far across 13 servers. But... that call center didn't need those call recordings anyway, right? :) Right.

I'm tired now. And I was tired this morning. I'm getting up in 6 something hours and maybe this thing will be finished. I don't know. I'll sleep when I can. I'm the first one at the office and the last to leave. Nothing especially new, but it's fucking awesome. And that's all I can say about it tonight.

>> "The Sad Song" by Fredo Viola on The Sad Song EP

Recollections

I don't remember if I wrote most of the following on the flight out to Hawaii or while I was on the ground, but I trust Google to save my documents more than paper. So here it is.


Before I left on the trip, the night before, I had dinner with my grandparents at their place in Bethesda. My grandmother made the standard quality, lavish fare, chicken marsala and the works. And I had yet another "bonus" chance, as she likes to call it, to listen and watch them enjoy their remaining time together.

Grandpa went out to the course that morning and did his best to work his way through 18 holes. With record highs, the temperature surpassed his age (which doesn't happen very often). He did say that toward the end of the trip, he was having trouble swinging the club at all.

During dinner, we talked about the details of my trip. I know and, at the time of this writing, KNOW very little. But he had spent a good amount of time [in Hawaii].

His father had an expansive career as a naval officer and was, at one point, an active member of Harry Truman's War Cabinet during the second world war. My great-grandmother, his mother, was actually living on the islands when the Japanese attacked in 1941. My grandmother was wise enough to interview her on tape to get a first-hand account of the siege. Her tone on the recording was expectedly somber, but she herself also realized the historic value of her experience. Two of my grandfather's brothers, who I never met, were in the house doing whatever children do. They were drawn outside by a buzzing which they expected to be American planes in formation... training, perhaps. That day, they saw the first wave of fighters and kamikazes on their way to Pearl Harbor on the other side of the island.

My grandfather was in Annapolis at the Naval Academy at the time, I believe. His father and the rest of the crew on the USS Battleship Texas had been dispatched to the central Pacific only two days earlier on December 5. Otherwise, they would have been carrying out their normal duties according to schedule right there in the harbor. I can't imagine the news, the alarm, when my grandfather heard of the attack. His mother and brothers were all physically fine, but the infamous damage took its toll. During dinner (I've been on planes all day and am having a hard time accepting the fact that I was just eating w/ them last night), my grandfather had to stop and think hard as to whether or not his two younger brothers went to the harbor that day to help pull bodies out of the water. He concluded they did not. But his mother, as a ranking officer's wife, ended up consoling numerous wives whose families were destroyed that morning. he said she acted in this role for several weeks.

Pardon the discontinuity, but I just had a tremendous turkey sandwich. Zero of my three planes were on time today. And I didn't have any time to either get something to eat or drink in between. So... I just bit the culinary bullet and bought the $10 sandwich. It was outstanding.

So... previously, I suppose I was talking about something other than a turkey sandwich. At this point, I find that notion rather unlikely. Let me investigate by reading what I've already written and count the number of references to turkey sandwiches.

Well that was disappointing. Forgive me for making light of such a serious topic. But according to the accounts I've heard, there were no turkey sandwiches at Pearl Harbor from Dec. 5-7, 1941. I will ask my grandfather the next time I see him for confirmation.

Pearl Harbor aside, my grandfather had other stories. He said the snorkeling is divine and I have to make time to do it. I told him I most certainly would. But the story to which I relate the most at present is his first trip out to Hawaii. The story is brief, but it made me think/reflect for a moment. And the bridge between something happening and me making you goons read about it is whether or not it makes me reflect.

Jack was at the Naval Academy and he received word from his father that he (Jack) would be spending the summer out there. Some kind of transport took him out to either LA or Coronodo where he waited for "orders" or, more likely, an escort of some kind. Anyway, he mentioned that there were any number of ships he could have ended up using. But he was directed to a "boat" in the most formal sense. As opposed to a battleship or something of a similar class (cruised at or above 20mph), he was taken to what he referred to as, "...a real POS... only went around 8 miles an hour the whole way." He went on to explain that it took a little over two weeks for him to get from the California coast to the big island of Hawaii.

And this put everything into perspective this afternoon. As it happens, "this afternoon has lasted about 10 hours so far. And as we chase the sun into tomorrow at 38,000 feet, I don't suspect it will change in the immediate future. But I digress. Perspective. Mine has been adjusted.

I was all bent out of whack because I might have had to sleep in LAX and go to Hawaii about 12 hours later. And I had to stop and think about the true measure of convenience we all have at our disposal.

Be grateful both for your survival and for the wisdom you have gained through the pain and sorrow of the past.

[a small tune struck me the next day or two after settling into the breeze on the island...]

Oh you came, you talked
you laughed, you walked

ah ye celebrate

you've got a whole lot of life to go
give your best to those you know
float the river... enjoy the show
and celebrate

[I'll finish it up at some point. I put some bliss in my pocket out there and I only hope I haven't put those pants through the wash yet.]



[and I'm pretty sure the remainder is from the flight back]

Artificial love must include selfish intentions classified and erected as anything not directed towards the audience. This only takes place in active conversation. There is time for selfish thought. This time, this thought, is reserved for personal reflection. Must there be--

There must be time for personal reflection.

I'm on the plane ride home now. And the trip was akin to discovering a new world. Some people never get to live the thrill. Others live it and, I suppose, they never share the knowledge they found.

The green was greener and the rain was more watery. The wind never sat and the sun was content to move its own speed. The waves ran their own course all day and every day.

Time spend with family was time well spent, even along the adversities. Friends were met and, presumably, family was made.

The reason for the initial bit here in this entry was the death beach we visited during the first week. The Minihuni (sp?) were an ancient people and maintained royal roles from birth. One of these obligations was bestowed upon the "royal companions"" of sorts. The royal entity was never to be alone.

In fact, the first individual borne after the royal individual, be it hours or days after the birth, was effectively obligated to remain by the royal individual's side indefinitely. Regardless the circumstance, the royal one was never to be alone. No matter what happened, that person would always have counsel, direct empathy, to assist in the decision-making process. This relationship would last to the death. And the finality would manifest at Polihale, the death or dying beach.

The name was given to the beach because the pocketed cliffside was used to bury/hide the bones/remains of the royal entity. As the sole purpose of the lifelong companion was companionship, his/her services were no longer needed at the conclusion of the royal one's life.

The companion would be lowered by rope over the towering cliffs while clutching a bucket or some recepticle with his friend's remains.

The Hawaiians consider the physical remains eternally relevant to the soul's well-being after death. A person's power was retained in their bones after death and it was therefore of the utmost importance to conceal the specific location of the remains of each leader.

After the companion would locate a sufficient place for his/her friend's remains, the individual would tug the rope to signal success and the others at the top of the cliff would cut the rope and allow the companion to fall to his/her death on the rocks below. This was how their ancient culture ensured their leaders' powers were kept safe. The cliffs are referred to as "the jumping-off point for spirits." And the view is astounding.

The couple sitting next to me is returning from the same island. We are now on the second plane en route to Dallas and they're going to Baltimore as well. I just had to break from my recollections to save on paper their strength. In their silence, they remind me likes do exist. They intend to move to the island within the next year. That doesn't relate to my path. But it's comforting knowing, being shown, that likes exist.

Descent into Dallas.


>>No music tonight. WallE is on HBO.

Mainland

Well I'm back on the mainland and am back in the urban sprawl. What a difference 5,000 miles makes.


The Hawaiian island of Kauai was a complete blast from the past, a separate world altogether. The most striking elements were, of course, elemental. The prehistoric peaks and the perpetual breeze just eclipsed time completely. And it was unusual to see moving vehicles and actual modernization. But it's generally apparent that foreign influence has been held to a minimum over the course of the last few decades. The Hawaiians have worked hard to keep it that way on the remote island. Such is not the case on the others.


I wrote a little on the trip in a journal of sorts and I think I'll transfer it onto here tomorrow night. I didn't write nearly as much as I thought I would because I was in the water the whole time. Well... in the water and drinking mai tais.

We went to a luau, talked with locals, ancients and fellow tourists alike. We snorkeled, surfed, bodysurfed and I was beaten and broken by the ocean almost daily. I turned into one big ball of sand and salt... and comfortably so.

I'm heading into the office tomorrow for the second time to meet the telephony consultants and to watch them install the fiberoptic system. It was deemed "relevant to my interests" by the powers that be. They know me well.

>> "Is This Love" by Bob Marley

Channel mania... I feel so dirty.

I've been living without television for several years now. But while I crash at my aunt's place, I can sort through the umpteen-thousand channels available on the space... dish... television... machine.

Seriously. This is an unreasonable amount of entertainment.

I can tell you the proper steps to make swiss, gouda and cheddar cheeses separately. Should you need anyone to fashion a hydroelectric dam on a large river in western Mexico, I will happily do it. I can show you the best way to catch catfish in Borneo and I really had no idea the Tour de France was so freaking long. Diving competitions, surf competitions, Paul Newman's cookie factory and lunar landings are all... three feet away. With Harold and Kumar keeping me company, I sit here and recall the design for the indoor ski resort in Dubai. I saw two guys create quicksand and I saw a man create a cake robot.

It's endless.

I've been helping my aunt around the house and around her office this week. She's in charge of moving her office into a new building and it's way too much work for one person. She's been pretty much the go-to person for any old thing, whether it fits her job description or not. And her health is suffering because of it. So I've been going up there and helping her coworkers pack stuff, load stuff, etc... just making sure she can think straight. I'm heading down there tomorrow and I think we're transporting a refrigerator. I was told I need to be there before noon so I can partake in the office pizza party. It will be done.

This evening, I left on my bike at about 5:45 and just explored. This area, Montgomery Village, is rife with paved walking paths that wind through the woods between several neighborhoods. The slow rolling hills and the hand-crafted, wooden fences could easily be mistaken for a neighborhood in Colorado. The only difference is the background. There's only one mountain in Maryland and it's not really visible unless you're actively looking for it.

The heat here has been pretty comparable to the Texas summer. I was just about soaked by the time I got back from my ride about 45 minutes later. I've yet to get into the city on the metro and honestly don't know if I'll be able to do it before I leave on Saturday.

I have absolutely no idea what to expect on my trip. I know I'm going to swim a bunch. And I might sleep a lot. I saw an episode of a show called "Aerial America," which I didn't know existed until tonight, in which a helicopter flies over a particular destination. The show tonight was on Hawaii. And... I'm super excited.


Anyway, I'm staying as busy as possible in anticipation of the trip. I'm hanging out with family and have played the guitar a couple times. It felt a little foreign after the drive up, to be honest. But, all is well. And... I'm getting ready for about a 12 hour flight on Saturday :)

Paradise City

Against all odds, I made it to the East coast this week.


Now I'm just sitting here, reflecting and generally attempting to process what seems to be a new world altogether. I commented on the air quality to my sister this afternoon on the phone. I spent a lot of time in New England growing up and, although the DC area is considered southerly, there is an absolute richness to the smell of the air. The soil and the grass are thick and the fir trees sit close to the ground. I have a sagittarian fantasy to crawl under one and take a nap.

The drive up was pretty nice. The car did well and the scenery, the bits I could actually see, were beautiful. But it rained horribly both nights. Driving into Nashville, I had to buddy up to the 18 wheelers and follow their tail lights because I was not willing to drive slow enough to see the actual lines on the road. This notion seemed completely unreasonable at the time. I effectively tailgated the truckers completely blind through the hills of Tennessee. Given that I had already been on the road for about ten hours, this was exactly what I needed to stay alert...

Other noteworthy events are as follows:

*gas gauge failed and car died with what appeared to have been a quarter of a tank left 55 miles outside of Austin (yesss AAA)
*rekindled my love for Sunkist
*hit 86mph in Virginia (cause im a badass)
*experienced some priceless right-wing talk radio ("Thank goodness that World Cup is over.")
*got "Freebird" and "Paradise City" in Arkansas
*power went out at the hotel in Nashville, children got stuck in the elevator, got locked out of the room, could not eat my pizza
*powered through flash flooding just South of DC


I found a place to stay today. All the places up here are considerably more expensive just because of the geography. But I'm really happy with this place. It's super close to the metro station so I'll be able to get into DC proper to play in traffic on my bike. And you can imagine my surprise when I saw the freaking FIOS modem IN the damn room :D I'm pretty ecstatic. The owner is a super cool older lady whose son is in grad school in Michigan. The room is abnormally large and... it's maybe a mile and a half from my new office. I can now say with confidence that chewing industrial leather will indeed keep you alive if and when sustenance is scarce.

I've visited with my grandparents, cousins and aunt :) My grandfather, 90 years old, shot a hole in one the other day when he went out for his customary 18. We went out and got some Chinese food and he told me stories about hotels in Hong Kong and India in the 60s. He told me about the time when, 72 years ago, he drove his brother's fiance and her mother across the country from Rhode Island to Ventura, California. He said he got the car up to 100 going across South Dakota and he made the women think he was a ravenous bear by scratching on the screen at a camping cabin in Yellowstone National. Entertainment is comfortably cheap on long road trips. Gram's still dancing and they're both rocking the internet every day.

I'm not starting the new job until late August but I went in for an orientation of sorts yesterday. Paul and I went over all the network architecture and I got a good idea of the scale of the operation. It was a really long day but I ate it all up. I'm really excited to get started. But... it will just have to wait for the time being.


Audrey is taking me and my mom to Hawaii :) My mom is still in a slow state of recovery after she was rear-ended... I think over a year ago now. It took some serious maneuvering to convince her to brave the trip out there. But now that the dates are set, she's been feeling better mentally. Auds said I've been working too hard in general over the last couple/few years and that I needed a clean slate before starting the new job. This will indeed by my last hurrah before digging into a virtual timewarp of instances where that little man from Princess Bride says, "Inconceivable!" We're going to the island of Kauai, leaving next Saturday, and I'm going to spend much of the time in the water. This next week I'm going to take the metro into the city and sightsee. I've... been... sorta chomping at the bit.

>> no music?

Summer storms returned

Summer storms returned this afternoon with a warm welcome.


This morning, I ran errands for my mom and helped her around the house up North. I loaded the playlist from my roommate's old hard drives and straight-up jammed all the way up there. I'm gonna miss the pace of things down here. BUT... the mix includes Neon Indian, Yeasayer, Tallest Man on Earth and Ratatat. :D

I came back down South and made it a front-porch afternoon. I moved my lil amp to the screen door and threaded the cable between it and the door frame. Propped up against the wooden chair with the sun kindly across my legs, I pushed notes over the stone wall, through the rose garden and deep into the oak trees across the street. Green, the resident Schäferhund, lounged and snoozed in the yard with the occasional roll/back scratch/snort.

The clouds and thunder started to roll in soundly from the West. And as soon as the shade hit the yard in full, the mosquitoes descended like bloody vampires and hassled me straight into the house. When Texas mosquitoes come after you, you can either pull out the garlic and silver bullets (maniacal jazz hands) or run away like a man. I chose the latter... with half-hearted jazz hands.

I grabbed a bag of Sun Chips and headed back out front to check the state of the storm. It was just grumbly... frustratingly so. It never actually rained here, but it sure did sound nice. After feeding Green and myself an ample amount of Sun Chips, I came in and just plain passed out on the coffee table to the sounds of thunder. Green was the enabler. You might be surprised how good a flat surface feels after an hour and a half of musical recklessness.

I woke up all out of sorts and the sky was still growling about something. It was all talk.


I watched a movie called "Keinohrhasen" last night. And it was pretty freaking funny. My only other exposure to Til Schweiger prior-to was his severely disgruntled character in Inglourious. He directed Keinohrhasen and it was hilarious. It seems to me that one clear sign of a good director is that the movie makes perfect sense to an audience who doesn't speak the same language. Such is this movie. I'd like to see it with subtitles at some point because it was definitely pretty raw in a couple places.

This evening, after waking up on top of the coffee table, I watched "Das Wunder Von Bern," another German film which loosely documents the German World Cup victory in 1954 around the story of a family's struggle to accommodate a grizzled father/husband recently returned from the war. It's a great look at the man's battle to reconcile his nearly-forgotten domestic sentiments. The movie did this succinctly and, although I was watching subtitles most of the time, I feel the acting was pretty good. I recommend it. It probably also helps if you're a soccer fan, to some degree.

I've got a roommate to take my place here in July so now... I've basically got the green light to boot scoot outta town (def. number 2). I'm gonna get my car checked and enjoy some final miscreant adventures before I vacate. I've loved Austin and am still not completely comfortable leaving my mom here in her current state. But now is the time. She and I both agree.


>> "Hold Tight, London feat. Anna Lynne" by Chemical Brothers

Goose attack

I haven't been to Virginia in a long time. I'm just trying to remember what it's like.

I imagine it's green and hilly. And maybe the people there speak slowly like Texans?


The last time I was in Virginia, I was going to a summer tennis camp at UVA when I was... 14 maybe?


I'm looking for someone to take my room right now here in Austin. But with rental market plateauing right at the "apeshit" level, it's gonna be hard. As soon as I get someone lined up, I'm packing my clothes, guitars and computers into the Oldsmobile and headin out.


I was in Washington DC a couple weeks ago for my grandfather's 90th birthday party. The night before, my sister and I went out with my cousin and her husband and his twin brother and his wife and... we all know eachother. I hadn't seen them in about 4 years and... we usually just go for broke.

We started drinking and talking about IT stuff and Mr. Man said, "Hey Rich... hypothetically speaking, would you be interested in...?" To which I replied, "Abso-damn-lutely."

We had intended to crash out at a reasonable time to prep for the party the next day. But when we got back to the house, Paul said, "I'm gonna get a drink and then play some trivia."

The events which followed can only be described as a goose attack of the mightiest proportions.


The feral Grey Goose of western France attacked us repeatedly in the face, several times an hour.

I processed about a quart and a half of unholy pheasant juice over the course of four hours on an air mattress. Then, I was awoken by my sister and she coaxed me into the car.

After some very fortuitous automobile dormancy, I woke up with what I felt was an expanding fault line, a rift, if you will, between the two hemispheres of my brain. I made it to the party. But any discerning eye will be able to spot the traumatic trappings of our bird hunt gone awry.

Grandpa's great and Gram's even better. And I got myself a new job to boot.


Things are moving quickly and I'm going to have to update this periodical a bit more periodically.

For now, suffice it to say that there are several uncertainties at present. But the goose...

Oh, the goose...


>> "November" by Music Box on Lydian Label