Weekly 8/1/06

This week was all about magic and music.

The magic has been evident in the general sense of good luck I have felt lately.
(should I be knocking on wood as I type? Can the wood sprites read?)

Aside from my schedule changing at the most opportune time:
- I have found a ten and twenty dollar bill at separate times over the past few weeks;
- Emily and I picked up a massive piece of granite up for our counter for a price likely cheaper than dirt (or "soil" as the horticulture people would have me self-correct);
- Clerks 2 was actually quite good;
- I have found a direction to aim both my creative energies and my "philanthropic" focus (more on that later);
- and we went to the Turf Club at Emily's request on Saturday and surprisingly found that there was a CD release party for local acts featuring a band I have been trying to see for quite a while (Halloween, Alaska) as well as a local hip-hop m.c. (Kill the Vulture's who has a ton of potential, if cursed with a bad drum machine operator and bad sound tech at the boards.And that leads well into the musical nature of this week's other links:

Mogwai is another band who I would like to see and recently they performed for an NRP broadcast which I have posted. They are kind of alt-rock intrumental type... stuff.

Dig it.



And for local acts (in The Cities) and a good calendar of upcoming shows, check the other link to a site called "How Was the Show?" - fitting name, I must say. They don't review everything, but their calendar was more complete than the websites of three venues at which I was looking. The Turf, Big Vs, and Station 4. I never fail to be baffled at how bad business's self promotion so often is.

Happy Birthday to Emily!

I love that she makes me laugh and laughs with (at) me.
I love that she is devoting herself to healing the world's beasties.
I love that she knows me better than I do.
I love that she is clever and wily.
I love that she is beautiful.
I love that she calls people out.
I love that she hates GW.
I love that she's got style.
I love that she is artistic.
I love that she likes Ren and Stimpy.
I love that she is brilliant.
I love that she is snooty.
I love that she digs music.
I love how she sleeps.
I love that she is who she is.
I love that we are sharing our time here together.
I love that I don't know why else but that I do anyway.

Happy Birthday, sweet Memo.


You are so much more than I could have asked for or deserve.

Reclaiming the night

As I only have three classes left, I have to get my work schedule and class schedule to merge and through a marvelous manifestation of serendipity I will be able to do so before Summer's end.

There is sometimes a bit of reshuffling around and in this case it works in my favor. I will be restoring myself to the mid-shift position opening up the nights for my exuberant meanderings.

This means no more dodging drunks on early Saturday mornings.
This means no more having to use vacation to see a show on a weeknight.
This means spending a lot more active time with Emily and Ike.
This means... dare I say it... a return to weekly gatherings at the Glockenspiel!

I will absolutely miss the quiet nighttime drive around campus - just me and my music - but all things considered, it is going to be such a relief.

Thanks to whatever moons, stars, and clovers (and horseshoes if you're new(er)-school)that are aligning to make this happen. You are magnificent bodies of gas and minerals (and dry, stiff marshmallow).

A sad day for Zombies or (Somebody call the ZCLU (Zombie Civil Liberties Union)

*** Sarcasm alert! Beware, I am going to make comments that are not serious but satirical and intended to be if not funny, then at least to make you shake your head at our state of affairs***

Well, the police are really doing their part in Minneapolis.

Well, on the bright side at least they aren't just profiling black and muslim folks anymore.

So remember kids, make sure those Halloween bags don't have any wire handles or you might take a ride in the paddy wagon this October.

Folking myself

I have found myself returning once again to my folksy state-of-mind, thinking about telling tales and playing the flute. For the most part it has been inspired by books by Charles de Lint.

de Lint writes about what he enjoys, it seems, and what he enjoys are folk music, folk tales, myth, and modern city life. His books (for the most part) are about characters in a modern world dealing with things that are not to be explained by rational thought. The first bookI read of his is called Dreams Underfoot - a collection of short stories about urbanites coming across creatures of folk tales and having to deal with implications of that - thoughts of insanity, depression, enlightenment, horror, etc. I do them no justice at all with my explanation, but if you have any interest in gritty, lessons-for-life fables set in the slums and artist's quarter of a modern city, than you may enjoy his stuff as well.

Anyway...
Being that he is a folk musician and artist, he draws a lot of connections between his characters, their ability to accept the unknown, and their art. It seems that anyone in his books who can accept what is seen-beyond-sight(?) focuses on one form of artistic expression or another. Though I am not planning on seeing any goblins, sasquatch or ladies- in-the-water anytime soon... (note I said planning)... his descriptions of art and music have inspired me to once again practice at these things.

I have had a penny whistle for some time now and once a week or so I will annoy the neighbors with a poorly rendered Little Drummer Boy in the middle of the summer, or show off my nerdy side by practicing the theme from Lord of the Rings. But I haven't really sat down with the intent to learn much. It is sad that it took this long, but I am finally truly realizing that no matter what level of talent you think you may find within yourself, you have to start from the beginning when learning anything. No one is a master-by-nature. Ike, case-in-point, does happen to be a master of sleeping, but he practices it gruelingly(sp... is that even a word?) every day. So I found some resources on-line. The cool thing about the penny- or tin-whistle commuity is that because they are folksy people, they like to teach without any specific reciprocity. They just put info out there for all to see and help you learn. That is awesome.

I also was driving by the art shop and bought some modleing clay and fiddled around with it for an hour on Saturday. It is funny the process of shaping form from a ball of nothing.

So within a few months if you happen to be walking through a park and hear some chump squeeking about on a tin whistle, it just might be me and you just might recognize the song...

...if you are a LOTR fan (if you were, you would catch the reference).

(semi)-weeklies

It has been a long time friends, but they are back:

The music is Thievery Corporation on KCRW. Emily's brother introduced me to them years ago and I haven't kept up, but they are always good when I hear new stuff. This recording has them producing their loungy-world-beat sound, but there is a Doors track in there as well that they did more than justice to.

The place is a new "shopping district" in Woodbury to which we went this weekend. It is a really creepy place and, as Emily's ma noted, looks like it is trying to be a shopping district similar to Santa Cruz or Monterey. The difference, however, is that it is in close proximity, not to the ocean, but to corn and soybean fields fertilized with pig shit. Kind of takes away from the magic, I think. This is a new form of strip mall that faces inward on itself into a main-street atmosphere which, I must say, is a good deal nicer than the standard, but it still seems to be kidding itself and the people who go there.

And finally, the thing may have been the musical selection had Thievery Corporation not been on Morning Becomes Eclectic today, but thanks to NPR (yes, National Public Radio) for leading me to this... shall we say... showcase of the triumph and majesty of the human instrument. Songbirds ain't got nothin' on us!

Walk well, brothers and sisters. More to come...

Ever notice...?

Ever notice how the most difficult time to give advice is when someone most needs it?

Just kids...

This is really, really sad.

These girls are writing messages on rockets that are being fired on civilians in Lebanon.

An update on Ike and moving onward

Again, I can do no less than to thank those who have commented or e-mailed us about Meg and given us their sympathy and empathy. There are so many people great people out there who shine through in such times when they are needed, whether they are old friends or those until now unmet.



Ike



Well, Ike is working out really well, and by that I mean he is pretty awesome. He is starting to feel comfortable with us and starting to let go of some of his inhibitions. Though he still remains pretty reserved (some might say lazy), there are occasional outburts of energy that send him flying around the house tossing his toys around and crashing into things. We call it the "crazy train," named after the Black Sabbath song. If you by any means know how the song starts, it has a base line which goes like: ba dum... ba dum, ba dum, ba dum... then Ozzy Ozbourne screams, "Ai! Ai! Ai!" which we changed to "Ike! Ike! Ike!." Though I wouldn't say I am by any means on Ozzy fan, the song and title reflect his behavior.







Though I joke, it is humorous how if you turn him on his back, he begins to snore and his eyes close (yes, in that order) and within seconds he has pretty much taken refuge in the land of Nod.


But all is not roses, as would be expected. He hasn't had any pee problems in our condo, but upon a visit to the brother-in-law's, Ike whizzed on his twelve pack of beer.
At first, I was upset, but finding out it was Summit Grand Pilsner, I understood and thought about doing the same thing myself.

Joking aside, we do have to keep a pretty close watch, just in case, as we don't want him to scent mark even once in the house. That forces us to be in the room with him at all times or for him to be in his kennel when we have to run errands or what have you.


Family

Emily's brother and his family are in from LA so we have been doing a good deal of running aroun. This is one of the many reasons I have been not updating this as often as I might like. The other night we did the local bar stroll and it was good times - closing the places down on a Wednesday night. It has been a while.

He has a little baby and it has been an interesting dynamic and a strange foreshadowing of things to come.

... and I thought dogs took up a lot of time and attention...

Actually, we are looking forward to kids in the relatively near future, wherever we end up. And it has been good to see all of the neices and nephews before they become cousins to our kid(s).

Until then, they will just have to settle for furry family.


A final note

As things are returning to somewhat normal, I expect to return to the old nonsense posted on this blog but I welcome those who have stopped by for support to stick around. Really, this is just a diary for myself to get out my thoughts and to keep friends and family aware of what is going on in my life, but I appreciate anyone's comments and contributions.

I think I am going to carry on much of my Meg conversations on a pet-loss bulletin board that Emily came across. I think that now is the right time and hopefully, I can help other people dealing with the such things like so many people did for me here. Again, I welcome you to return and say hello, but if you do not, thank you again so much. You are beautiful souls and great human beings.

The shared span of beginnings and endings

In the process of trying to come to terms with the issues of mortality, purpose, timing, and the general greater scheme of things and how they related to Megs's presence - and early departure - from our life, we wondered, "Why now?" Perceived from within the depths of our sadness, there is a feeling that she was taken far too early. Bostons tend to live until at least 11 and she was only 6.

But thinking about it differently helped things. I am fully aware that this just may be my way of coping, but I am now looking at it as lucky that we had this long with her. Tumors usually happen fast and their effects bring about rapid... closure. So being that the doctor told us that the six months was a long time for a tumors progression, we got the best of that time without it taxing Meggos' well being. It was good time together.

And she passed when she needed to. I have a strong feeling that she was holding on until we had measured the weight of what was occuring and accepted that her situation was one that could not be avoided.



There is a little myth that I started telling myself which allows me to understand it all and whether or not its true will never be known... but I am going to hold on to it. It goes like this:

I am pretty sure that Meg was abused. Maybe not that she was kicked or hit very often (once is bad enough) but she was treated very poorly, neglected, and used more for her womb than for the boundless love that she would have been willing to share. Her pain was evident in her behavior when we first got her and her health for as long as we knew her. This is what I think caused the tumor. Being that mental well-being has so much control over health, I wonder if Meg started the process of letting go back before she knew she was going to have a better life - that her body saw a way out of her life of pain and started down a road from which it couldn't turn around.

When she came to live with us, though she could not stop what was already in motion, she gave us all that she could.

And she gave us a lot.





And again, I often feel that timing is everything.

A lot that I have read cautions to wait - to let the grief pass and then to make the decision with a rational mind.

I understand this.

If one is not prepared, one may seek to find somone just like the dog whom they lost. Sadly, they find that they cannot deal with the new dogs inability to meet their standards. They may also find that if the grief has not run its course, a new dog can simply remind them of what they don't have. Regardless, it is selfish and unfair to the new dog.

So we talked it out and searched ourselves and each other to know what we should do. Thinking about what I had read, Emily and I decided to pay careful attention that we focus on a new dog as itself - not as a void that he/she is to some degree filling - and to make sure that we were doing this at the right time - not based on what we read or what other people would council, but what we feel.


Emily and I are very much guided by intuition and it has served us well. That is how we got together the first time we dated, the time that we split up (remember - "timing"), and a few years later when we got back together again. Among other things, it was also how we decided to adopt Meg.


Emily and I are "animal people." If we had the time, money, and ability, we would have thousands of acres for "all creatures great and small" who needed us as much as we need to help them. But being that we live in a small place in the city, one dog is all we can manage (also all the condo association will allow).

Though Meg was very special and we would choose her before any other dog, we felt that if we can help, we should help. And right now, we can use another friend.

A few days after we lost Meg, Emily started to look around on petfinder.org - this is where we found Meg in the first place. Rapidly narrowing the search to Boston Terriers (their general temperment is a perfect match for us), she found the picture of the funniest little bugger named Pepper Jack. She found that, like Meg, there was something about his picture that caught her - a look in his eye, maybe, or maybe something that cannot be explained.

Over the next few days, we talked some more about it and being that I fell that Meg lives within us, even sought out what Meg would tell us.

Though this may sound a little weird, as I sat talking with Emily on the phone, I asked Meg to give me a feeling about what Jack was like and the word "clown" popped into my head. Though I am not saying that she "spoke to me," I rarely rule anything out and it just brought us that much closer to pursuing it.

After a few e-mails and phone calls, we found that Jack lived outside of Milwaukee with a foster family and decided to take a one-day road trip to meet him. Though the drive was long, it was worth it. He is a very happy dog and though he has his issues, we felt confident that we could deal with them. The thing that sealed the deal was the foster mom's statements about his personality. It was something like, "He's pretty even keeled most of the time, but sometimes when he is playing with his toys he's such a clown - just a little clown."

So now he lives with us. We are on a two week trial, but are nearly positive that he will become a part of the family. Can't see of any reason why he wouldn't. He loves everyone he meets and they love him right back. The cats didn't even miss a beat when he came in, really and just accepted him. He is going to be a good dog and friend, I already know.

But we also know that he is going to remind us of Meg and that there will be unintentional comaprisons made, but we don't feel our memories will be in any way diminished by his presence. Meg was too good a friend for that.











Anyway, here is a picture of the old boy. And yes, his tongue always sticks out.



Oh, and because he didn't seem to respond to Jack (and that is my Uncle's name) we decided to change his name to Ike.