Anthony Bourdain's death was a blow on the bruise of Scott Hutchinson's. Both less than a month apart. Both had the signs, but many (myself included) thought they had gotten through the really bad stuff. I keep forgetting that depression does not just go away. It does not go away like putting Visine on red eyes. It can return at any time, they way a powerful wave at the beach can knock you into the undertow. The way you can be doing well one minute but a thought, a couple of bad thoughts can enter your head and flood it to the point where the body is incapacitated. It all sucks, so much, and plodding on while all this nonsense is happening around us becomes increasingly difficult.
Had two beers with friends last night and woke up feeling absolutely lousy today. Been trying to cut back on the alcohol because it's really not helping me tolerate the daily chaos the administration creates every day. Still paralyzed by all the grief though. Unable to focus on reading, what gets written down is garbage and confidence remains low.
A couple of weeks ago we said the heck with it and put my son in underwear. If he pees or shits in it we'd deal. So far he has not had one accident. His underwear has been dry. Been peeing in the toilet this whole time. He will with more frequency go into the bathroom unprompted. As for the poop though, it's a mystery sometimes. There have been instances he has used his hands to put the poop in the toilet. Sometimes he does not use this extra step, sometimes he does. It is a profound improvement.
Showing posts with label bad things. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bad things. Show all posts
Sunday, June 10, 2018
Thursday, May 24, 2018
Fewer keys now
The old house on Eakin was finally sold a couple of weeks ago. Took a bit of a bath on its initial asking price, but what can you do? The house had some issues and it was not in a desirable neighborhood, on a busy street, etc.
That's where I lived the longest. The first house my son came home to. He must have loved it because he did not want to sleep there. It was the scene of a lot of good and bad memories. Life happened there, and it's happening in the new place too.
No longer having a mortgage is a good thing, and we're down to one set of bills. Naturally that money moves to paying my son's caregiver this summer, a necessary expense.
That's where I lived the longest. The first house my son came home to. He must have loved it because he did not want to sleep there. It was the scene of a lot of good and bad memories. Life happened there, and it's happening in the new place too.
No longer having a mortgage is a good thing, and we're down to one set of bills. Naturally that money moves to paying my son's caregiver this summer, a necessary expense.
Friday, May 11, 2018
I've got this disease I can't shake and I'm just rattling through life
The news that Scott Hutchinson of Frightened Rabbit succumbed to his demons and took his own life has struck me rather hard.
It’s not the same grief as when an icon you never met died, either suddenly or by natural causes. Frightened Rabbit were far from a household name, but they have a niche of very devoted supporters.
I’ve been following the band for over ten years, almost as long as they have been in existence. They had a good social media presence, you knew what they were working on, and where. Hutchinson wrote so eloquently and honestly about the human condition, flaws and all. He really put himself out there, to the point of a twitter meltdown a couple of years ago in which he asked us to not buy his records. The disease was speaking.
I saw them live in 2013 here, and the band delivered the goods as promised. It was a catharsis for both band and audience as we all got to yell scream and shout for a couple of hours.
The band came through town again in 2016, and tweeted that they were looking for a bar where they could watch the Leicester City soccer match. Several of us recommended a place.
The morning of the match I was there, along with other soccer fans, waiting for the game to statr. The band came in. I have to say there were very approachable, even when people wanted to give them their privacy, to let them watch the match in peace - they were very cool about it.
I got to talk to Scott briefly, to thank him for the good work he was doing. Handed over a couple of bottles of Irn-Bru, which they gratefully accepted. Grant cracked open a bottle right on the spot. They signed my CD, took some names for Monday’s guest list and that was it.
Did not get to go to the show, figured I’d catch them next time. You know how that goes.
See ‘em while you can, there may not be a next time.
Scott spoke openly about his condition, his depression and dark side and put them in his music.
Whatever he was listening to when he put out those two last, cryptic, tweets was lying to him so hard. The beast lies. Depression lies. As the band said today, he’s no longer in pain, may he have finally found some peace.
It’s not the same grief as when an icon you never met died, either suddenly or by natural causes. Frightened Rabbit were far from a household name, but they have a niche of very devoted supporters.
I’ve been following the band for over ten years, almost as long as they have been in existence. They had a good social media presence, you knew what they were working on, and where. Hutchinson wrote so eloquently and honestly about the human condition, flaws and all. He really put himself out there, to the point of a twitter meltdown a couple of years ago in which he asked us to not buy his records. The disease was speaking.
I saw them live in 2013 here, and the band delivered the goods as promised. It was a catharsis for both band and audience as we all got to yell scream and shout for a couple of hours.
The band came through town again in 2016, and tweeted that they were looking for a bar where they could watch the Leicester City soccer match. Several of us recommended a place.
The morning of the match I was there, along with other soccer fans, waiting for the game to statr. The band came in. I have to say there were very approachable, even when people wanted to give them their privacy, to let them watch the match in peace - they were very cool about it.
I got to talk to Scott briefly, to thank him for the good work he was doing. Handed over a couple of bottles of Irn-Bru, which they gratefully accepted. Grant cracked open a bottle right on the spot. They signed my CD, took some names for Monday’s guest list and that was it.
Did not get to go to the show, figured I’d catch them next time. You know how that goes.
See ‘em while you can, there may not be a next time.
Scott spoke openly about his condition, his depression and dark side and put them in his music.
Whatever he was listening to when he put out those two last, cryptic, tweets was lying to him so hard. The beast lies. Depression lies. As the band said today, he’s no longer in pain, may he have finally found some peace.
Sunday, April 8, 2018
That three throw closeout
Events this past week have brought my head space back twenty years in some ways. A lot of thinking where I was, where I went and why, and where I am now. Somewhere in all that is the how.
And it's such a horrible tragedy, that accident involving the hockey kids in Saskatchewan. Communities are devastated, social lives are centered around those junior leagues on the prairies. They were good kids, I met a few like them, back in the day.
Last night one of our new neighbors invited us over to their place for beers and an outdoor fire. We had a very good time, a beer too many in my case and walked two blocks home. I have not been able to do that for years, maybe since when we lived by the Crest Tavern, when it had real dartboards.
A British dart throwing legend died last week. I was not familiar with him, but my wife was, and friends of mine. I have a board, a good one, waiting to be set up on a bare wall downstairs. I just can't find my darts right now. So I've put a set on my Amazon list. I'm one click away.
There are a lot of things I'm missing right now: the address on a water bill, my concentration to be able to read a freaking book, let alone write anything coherent or meaningful. Some days, when you're under the stress of finally finding a summer caregiver for your son, or selling a house that has a nice personality but some real problems underneath, it's all you can do to be able to get up in the morning with not quite hangover but a bloated uneasy feeling in your gut. I'm so grateful and lucky to have the space to go to and try to get through it all.
And it's such a horrible tragedy, that accident involving the hockey kids in Saskatchewan. Communities are devastated, social lives are centered around those junior leagues on the prairies. They were good kids, I met a few like them, back in the day.
Last night one of our new neighbors invited us over to their place for beers and an outdoor fire. We had a very good time, a beer too many in my case and walked two blocks home. I have not been able to do that for years, maybe since when we lived by the Crest Tavern, when it had real dartboards.
A British dart throwing legend died last week. I was not familiar with him, but my wife was, and friends of mine. I have a board, a good one, waiting to be set up on a bare wall downstairs. I just can't find my darts right now. So I've put a set on my Amazon list. I'm one click away.
There are a lot of things I'm missing right now: the address on a water bill, my concentration to be able to read a freaking book, let alone write anything coherent or meaningful. Some days, when you're under the stress of finally finding a summer caregiver for your son, or selling a house that has a nice personality but some real problems underneath, it's all you can do to be able to get up in the morning with not quite hangover but a bloated uneasy feeling in your gut. I'm so grateful and lucky to have the space to go to and try to get through it all.
Friday, November 3, 2017
Thomas Wolfe and the home thing
Back on Long Island for a visit. Just a visit. For a change there are no funerals to attend. The weather has been oddly glorious for early November. This morning, though, there was a dense fog and I went to Heckscher State Park to see how the Great South Bay would look. It was hard to see though the mist. Very eerie and quite cool. A mist formed over my glasses. Made me wish I’d spent more time down here in high school. Should have ridden my bike down there instead of the to the South Shore Mall to play video games. It would have given me some much needed serenity.
The presence of my Mother is at many turns I make. She worked at the Connetquot State Park, which looms large with my family. There’s a memory bench with her name on it by the hatchery, where the public cannot go. My Stepfather and I went there today. He’s struggling with mobility these days, as he ages. But he got out his walker and rolled himself there.
As I drive my rented Hyundai around Western Suffolk County, memories flood me more than usual this time. Mostly about all the places I did not go, and how much time I wasted not going to them. But there’s the place I cursed up a storm at a guy for taking my bike. There’s the building I where threw a solid punch at a guy and knocked his head back. And of course, the house I lived in under some torment. But my Mom is still all over the place, and me - well I deliberately tried to erase my presence, or at least my footprint - and I cannot put it back, nor do I want to.
Overall it has been a good and necessary visit. My Stepfather took us to dinner last night, I took him to lunch today. My Niece does not take any crap from by Brother, which is a good thing. Later, I’m taking my Aunt to dinner. After that, who knows.
The presence of my Mother is at many turns I make. She worked at the Connetquot State Park, which looms large with my family. There’s a memory bench with her name on it by the hatchery, where the public cannot go. My Stepfather and I went there today. He’s struggling with mobility these days, as he ages. But he got out his walker and rolled himself there.
As I drive my rented Hyundai around Western Suffolk County, memories flood me more than usual this time. Mostly about all the places I did not go, and how much time I wasted not going to them. But there’s the place I cursed up a storm at a guy for taking my bike. There’s the building I where threw a solid punch at a guy and knocked his head back. And of course, the house I lived in under some torment. But my Mom is still all over the place, and me - well I deliberately tried to erase my presence, or at least my footprint - and I cannot put it back, nor do I want to.
Overall it has been a good and necessary visit. My Stepfather took us to dinner last night, I took him to lunch today. My Niece does not take any crap from by Brother, which is a good thing. Later, I’m taking my Aunt to dinner. After that, who knows.
Sunday, May 28, 2017
Seat the retreat
It’s been just over a month since I got the guitar. I’ve tried to play it about half an hour each day, plugged in or not, except when we were out of town. No, I did not bring it with me. It’s been relaxing, even if my skills are lacking. A definite comfort and I’m having fun. I’ve stopped biting my nails, lost a few pounds and lowered my blood pressure. How much of this is related is hard to say, but it is happening.
The Back Room has become a retreat to escape from the activism of the day. The constant hammering of issue after issue on social media that must be read and consumed now or else you are not paying attention. I’m not sure if I’m out of the loop, or refuse to get motion sickness by witnessing it every hour.
I am paying attention, people are so stuck on their selfies that they fail to see that. Reposting link after link after link is time consuming and I barely have the energy to get out of bed these days.
Picked up a multi-effects pedal that is fascinating to use, but probably a bit out of my depth right now. A friend said to, “play with my hands, not my feet,” and that’s a fair point. Do need a new strap though. The one I have is for an acoustic and I worry about slippage.
My wife said that she hopes I get out of the guitar what she’s been getting out of yoga. She also has a point, and so far she is correct. Although the guitar was more expensive than a yoga mat.
Another friend said I had to put me playing Talk About the Passion by REM on video in two months or he’d send me a wall hook for the guitar. I did respond, a month early. You can watch it here.
I’m very self conscious about my lack of ability, so I have no idea how long the link will be active. But yes, I’m happy as Hell with the investment as I work on proficiency on the instrument. I’m not hiding, but that’s where I’ll be for awhile.
The Back Room has become a retreat to escape from the activism of the day. The constant hammering of issue after issue on social media that must be read and consumed now or else you are not paying attention. I’m not sure if I’m out of the loop, or refuse to get motion sickness by witnessing it every hour.
I am paying attention, people are so stuck on their selfies that they fail to see that. Reposting link after link after link is time consuming and I barely have the energy to get out of bed these days.
Picked up a multi-effects pedal that is fascinating to use, but probably a bit out of my depth right now. A friend said to, “play with my hands, not my feet,” and that’s a fair point. Do need a new strap though. The one I have is for an acoustic and I worry about slippage.
My wife said that she hopes I get out of the guitar what she’s been getting out of yoga. She also has a point, and so far she is correct. Although the guitar was more expensive than a yoga mat.
Another friend said I had to put me playing Talk About the Passion by REM on video in two months or he’d send me a wall hook for the guitar. I did respond, a month early. You can watch it here.
I’m very self conscious about my lack of ability, so I have no idea how long the link will be active. But yes, I’m happy as Hell with the investment as I work on proficiency on the instrument. I’m not hiding, but that’s where I’ll be for awhile.
Sunday, May 21, 2017
The state of the sportball
Spent the week recovering from driving the length of Pennsylvania twice in five days. I've written about it before, and will probably never make that drive again. The rain over last weekend seems to have doubled its way back to Ohio the last couple of days. We had a gutter fixed in the back of the house, now there are still leaks in the basement but they're not as heavy as before. The joys of having a ninety year old house.
Currently listening to the Mets getting their asses handed to them by the Angels, who are ahead 9-0 in the third inning. Injuries and bad managerial decisions have decimated the pitching staff this season. Once again, frustrated and Bitter Mets Fan is not having a good spring.
Everton have finished their season in seventh place, which is probably the best they can do with the talent on the team at this time. Manager Koeman has his work cut out for him in talent acquisition over the summer. They are in Europa League competition next season, which means they get to go to places like SK Brann in Norway on a Thursday night in November.
Meanwhile up in Scotland, Celtic have been a buzzsaw in the Scottish Premier League this season as they finished at the top of the table with 34 wins, 4 draws and no losses. Going undefeated in any league is quite the accomplishment and Brendan Rodgers and his team are to be commended. Maybe next year they can get through the group stages of the Champions League and once again get pasted by a team like Juventus.
Getting worn out by those who think our president is becoming more presidential when he does not fling his own poo for twenty four hours. He's no statesman, but a con man.
Currently listening to the Mets getting their asses handed to them by the Angels, who are ahead 9-0 in the third inning. Injuries and bad managerial decisions have decimated the pitching staff this season. Once again, frustrated and Bitter Mets Fan is not having a good spring.
Everton have finished their season in seventh place, which is probably the best they can do with the talent on the team at this time. Manager Koeman has his work cut out for him in talent acquisition over the summer. They are in Europa League competition next season, which means they get to go to places like SK Brann in Norway on a Thursday night in November.
Meanwhile up in Scotland, Celtic have been a buzzsaw in the Scottish Premier League this season as they finished at the top of the table with 34 wins, 4 draws and no losses. Going undefeated in any league is quite the accomplishment and Brendan Rodgers and his team are to be commended. Maybe next year they can get through the group stages of the Champions League and once again get pasted by a team like Juventus.
Getting worn out by those who think our president is becoming more presidential when he does not fling his own poo for twenty four hours. He's no statesman, but a con man.
Sunday, April 30, 2017
In West Columbus, and other sad places
The original Lunatic Asylum of Ohio was constructed in Columbus in 1835 on Columbus’ near east side. It burned down in 1868 and the rebuild on the west side of the city was completed in 1877. It was a tremendous building, said to be the largest structure under one roof until the Pentagon was built. If you walked around it, the distance was over a mile.
In the late 1980’s the building was abandoned and finally demolished in the 1990’s. Some of the architectural details, such as railings and windows, were salvaged and installed in the Hilltop Library - where I worked for a few years.
It was a hospital where the criminally insane were sent, where the indigent ended up, and where some poor families dropped off their children and relatives.
There are a couple of cemeteries on the site, They are hidden on the west side of Columbus. The one I finally went to is fairly easy to find. It is north of the BMV, just east of a center where violent juveniles are housed and next to the Columbus Police Department’s Heliport.
It’s a very peaceful, green space but looking at the stones is a very sad experience.
Who were these people? How many of them died alone? How many of them died not knowing they had family out there, or no family left?
How many were truly mentally ill and not given the help they deserved. How many were simply odd or misunderstood?
How many were autistic?
Here is a stone that simply labels a mass grave of human beings, Specimens. This is not the only one.
Here are row after row of tiny stones that reduced people’s names to numbers.
There were so many of these types of institutions all over the country, including one a couple of miles from where I grew up. Most of them had cemeteries just like this one. The numbers of people who were not treated like human beings, not given any assistance or dignity had to be staggering. Yet here we are today, facing an uncountable number of people with autism and other disabilities and we are cutting services instead of creating them. As a society we are not prepared for this storm. I’m not sure if this culture wants to take care of the most vulnerable.
Hope you all had a woke Autism Awareness Month. May is ALS, Arthritis, Cystic Fibrosis, Huntington’s Disease, Lupus, Mental Health, Stroke, Vision and more awareness month. That’s a lot to be aware of. Will no one will be aware of autism for another year?
In the late 1980’s the building was abandoned and finally demolished in the 1990’s. Some of the architectural details, such as railings and windows, were salvaged and installed in the Hilltop Library - where I worked for a few years.
It was a hospital where the criminally insane were sent, where the indigent ended up, and where some poor families dropped off their children and relatives.
There are a couple of cemeteries on the site, They are hidden on the west side of Columbus. The one I finally went to is fairly easy to find. It is north of the BMV, just east of a center where violent juveniles are housed and next to the Columbus Police Department’s Heliport.
It’s a very peaceful, green space but looking at the stones is a very sad experience.
Who were these people? How many of them died alone? How many of them died not knowing they had family out there, or no family left?
How many were truly mentally ill and not given the help they deserved. How many were simply odd or misunderstood?
How many were autistic?
Here is a stone that simply labels a mass grave of human beings, Specimens. This is not the only one.
Here are row after row of tiny stones that reduced people’s names to numbers.
There were so many of these types of institutions all over the country, including one a couple of miles from where I grew up. Most of them had cemeteries just like this one. The numbers of people who were not treated like human beings, not given any assistance or dignity had to be staggering. Yet here we are today, facing an uncountable number of people with autism and other disabilities and we are cutting services instead of creating them. As a society we are not prepared for this storm. I’m not sure if this culture wants to take care of the most vulnerable.
Hope you all had a woke Autism Awareness Month. May is ALS, Arthritis, Cystic Fibrosis, Huntington’s Disease, Lupus, Mental Health, Stroke, Vision and more awareness month. That’s a lot to be aware of. Will no one will be aware of autism for another year?
Wednesday, January 25, 2017
The events that are occurring.
We have a Vichy congress who are content with watching Kristallnaact happen by pen.
Sunday, December 25, 2016
The year that keeps on taking
George Michael was an incredible talented musician. He became an artist after starting out as a boy duo with Andrew Ridgely with Wham!
This was my favorite song of his. Dead, and only a year older than me. And this year still has six days left.
This was my favorite song of his. Dead, and only a year older than me. And this year still has six days left.
Friday, December 9, 2016
Taking on the sunshine brigade.
Earlier a friend did a Facebook post inviting us to share unpopular Columbus opinions. It turned into a long thread. It seems that some feathers got ruffled as some of their sacred cows were grilled.
Anyway, to contrast.
Ten things I think are cool about Columbus:
1) The number of first run and art films available. Plus the wonderful CAPA Summer Movie Series.
2) You can find a good poetry reading just about any night.
3) My mortgage is about a third of what some people are paying in rent.
4) The Scioto Mile is an asset to downtown.
5) The Metroparks system is well taken care of, pretty safe, and a great way to connect with nature.
6) Our public library system is thriving where others are being cannibalized.
7) Four String Brewery's commitment to the west side. They make some good beer too.
8) The thrifting here is good. Plenty of places to shop.
9) Not one, not two, not three but four (Southern, Ohio, Palace, Lincoln) old theaters have been preserved and restored to their former glory. A lot of places can no longer claim one.
10) Our ice cream kicks ass.
Anyway, to contrast.
Ten things I think are cool about Columbus:
1) The number of first run and art films available. Plus the wonderful CAPA Summer Movie Series.
2) You can find a good poetry reading just about any night.
3) My mortgage is about a third of what some people are paying in rent.
4) The Scioto Mile is an asset to downtown.
5) The Metroparks system is well taken care of, pretty safe, and a great way to connect with nature.
6) Our public library system is thriving where others are being cannibalized.
7) Four String Brewery's commitment to the west side. They make some good beer too.
8) The thrifting here is good. Plenty of places to shop.
9) Not one, not two, not three but four (Southern, Ohio, Palace, Lincoln) old theaters have been preserved and restored to their former glory. A lot of places can no longer claim one.
10) Our ice cream kicks ass.
Monday, November 7, 2016
Cue Roy Orbison
It's been an absolutely horrible 18 months, not just for me personally, but for the country (and the world, really) to have to endure this disgrace of an election cycle.
About twenty seven and a half hours from now, the polls will close in Ohio. This election may decrease Ohio's influence over the electorate. This means we may be less of a swing state, which means we get fewer ads.
Thank God if that happens.
With Clinton once again, and rightfully, not being under further investigation by the feds concerning the nonsense email scandal the markets shot up today. They were looking for a reason to. After tomorrow, it's all speculation and over-valued.
Good luck to all of us.
About twenty seven and a half hours from now, the polls will close in Ohio. This election may decrease Ohio's influence over the electorate. This means we may be less of a swing state, which means we get fewer ads.
Thank God if that happens.
With Clinton once again, and rightfully, not being under further investigation by the feds concerning the nonsense email scandal the markets shot up today. They were looking for a reason to. After tomorrow, it's all speculation and over-valued.
Good luck to all of us.
Saturday, June 25, 2016
So i will walk without care, beat my snare, look like a man who means business
Been a shit couple of days, even without the Brexit. My Son is still not transitioning well between his caregiver and coming to my house afterwards. There's a lot of shrieking, hissing and general unhappiness and it takes him a long time to calm down. Even today he greeted my cheerful, "good morning!" with shrieking and pounding on his bed. I know I'm not the cool parent, but this does not inspire me.
While prepping his lunch, this song came on iPod shuffle.
My Aunt was on the one who got me onto Rufus, he was on Geffen and she sent me his first record. That was the first song I heard and I have been a fan even since. Even went to see him live at the Newport during a sad period of my life when I was single. Imogen Heap opened, and Jon Hopkins was in her band. Things do go full circle as Hopkins and King Creosote have come into my radar.
This was on my Aunt's wall, so this show of his that she saw meant a lot to her. She would not have framed it otherwise.
So even with the small blow to her planning that Brexit took yesterday, and with everything else happening, maybe she's trying to cheer me up a little. I'm still not sure what to believe anymore.
While prepping his lunch, this song came on iPod shuffle.
My Aunt was on the one who got me onto Rufus, he was on Geffen and she sent me his first record. That was the first song I heard and I have been a fan even since. Even went to see him live at the Newport during a sad period of my life when I was single. Imogen Heap opened, and Jon Hopkins was in her band. Things do go full circle as Hopkins and King Creosote have come into my radar.
This was on my Aunt's wall, so this show of his that she saw meant a lot to her. She would not have framed it otherwise.
So even with the small blow to her planning that Brexit took yesterday, and with everything else happening, maybe she's trying to cheer me up a little. I'm still not sure what to believe anymore.
Monday, May 16, 2016
We are Monsters and Angels, often as one
When a film maker I admire and who has been a great influence on me for most of my life is accused an absolutely abhorrent act, well I've spent years, not really in denial, possibly an apologist for him.
If I could go back in time to try Woody Allen, I'd rather see that than all the vitriol that goes around now whenever he has a new film out.
It seems like a formula now. Allen releases a film. Ronan Farrow makes a snarky tweet. Mia defends her brave son. People rush to judgement all over again. Heaven help us if he gets an Oscar nomination.
Hollywood and the press are fickle, and always in denial about their acceptance of, well a standing ovation for man who fled from sentencing in Roman Polanski says it all.
The real victim here will always be Dylan Farrow, whether or not her mother Mia coached her (very unlikely) or if Allen did rape her (more likely than not), she has definitely suffered serious trauma.
And all the open letters, creepy Woody Allen interviews and Ronan Farrow teases that he may be Frank Sinatra's son do not make a case.
Trial by internet does not help. I do not believe it ever will.
If I could go back in time to try Woody Allen, I'd rather see that than all the vitriol that goes around now whenever he has a new film out.
It seems like a formula now. Allen releases a film. Ronan Farrow makes a snarky tweet. Mia defends her brave son. People rush to judgement all over again. Heaven help us if he gets an Oscar nomination.
Hollywood and the press are fickle, and always in denial about their acceptance of, well a standing ovation for man who fled from sentencing in Roman Polanski says it all.
The real victim here will always be Dylan Farrow, whether or not her mother Mia coached her (very unlikely) or if Allen did rape her (more likely than not), she has definitely suffered serious trauma.
And all the open letters, creepy Woody Allen interviews and Ronan Farrow teases that he may be Frank Sinatra's son do not make a case.
Trial by internet does not help. I do not believe it ever will.
Thursday, May 12, 2016
The Columbus Arts Festival, but not poetry
Up until 2014 the Word is Art Stage of the Columbus Arts Festival was on an upswing. Many good people volunteered their time and abilities to make the weekend a destination stop for poetry in Columbus during an exciting festival weekend. Poets, storytellers and writers who were not only from Columbus, but from all over the state and represented some of the best literary talent that Ohio had to offer.
Good strong bones had been developed for future festival organizers and committee members to build upon. A solid blueprint had finally begun to form after years of erratic scheduling and committees. While far from perfection, there was a sense that local poetry and literary performances were an event at the festival, and not an afterthought.
Last year, the marrow was sucked out of the bones by a committee that reduced the number of poets on the stage in favor of writing and publication workshops - which are good and fine, but not necessarily at an outdoor festival. The regression in programming quality had begun. Little has changed from last year. In fact it’s much worse. The current schedule on the festival’s website is not complete, but it does not inspire confidence.
This year six poets have been scheduled to read over the course of the weekend. In 2014 over 50 poets graced the stage.The profound drop off in numbers is deliberate. No disrespect is meant to any of the poets who will be performing. There has once again been little promotion for applying to be on the stage or announcements of anyone performing on the Word is Art Stage via social media. All the while the Festival has been tweeting about their 5K and promoting other artists, none of the posts have mentioned a poet or writer.
As an example of the shortcomings of the organizers; this year marks the debut of the Poet Laureate in Ohio. He lives in Dublin, is local to Columbus and he was not contacted to read by anyone associated with the festival. This would have been a golden programming coup, if the committee had the intent of promoting Ohio poetry.
It can no longer be considered a missed opportunity, but a failure by the Columbus Arts Festival organizers to recognize or develop any effort in publicizing those appearing on the Word is Art stage. A failure due to a lack of respect of poetry by the executive committee of the festival. Add nepotism and hubris as probable causes of the dismantling of successful programming, then it becomes obvious that once solid bones have been decidedly broken. New structure is needed, once again, to rebuild an sound and vital cultural arts tradition that the Columbus Arts Festival has disconnected from its visitors.
Good strong bones had been developed for future festival organizers and committee members to build upon. A solid blueprint had finally begun to form after years of erratic scheduling and committees. While far from perfection, there was a sense that local poetry and literary performances were an event at the festival, and not an afterthought.
Last year, the marrow was sucked out of the bones by a committee that reduced the number of poets on the stage in favor of writing and publication workshops - which are good and fine, but not necessarily at an outdoor festival. The regression in programming quality had begun. Little has changed from last year. In fact it’s much worse. The current schedule on the festival’s website is not complete, but it does not inspire confidence.
This year six poets have been scheduled to read over the course of the weekend. In 2014 over 50 poets graced the stage.The profound drop off in numbers is deliberate. No disrespect is meant to any of the poets who will be performing. There has once again been little promotion for applying to be on the stage or announcements of anyone performing on the Word is Art Stage via social media. All the while the Festival has been tweeting about their 5K and promoting other artists, none of the posts have mentioned a poet or writer.
As an example of the shortcomings of the organizers; this year marks the debut of the Poet Laureate in Ohio. He lives in Dublin, is local to Columbus and he was not contacted to read by anyone associated with the festival. This would have been a golden programming coup, if the committee had the intent of promoting Ohio poetry.
It can no longer be considered a missed opportunity, but a failure by the Columbus Arts Festival organizers to recognize or develop any effort in publicizing those appearing on the Word is Art stage. A failure due to a lack of respect of poetry by the executive committee of the festival. Add nepotism and hubris as probable causes of the dismantling of successful programming, then it becomes obvious that once solid bones have been decidedly broken. New structure is needed, once again, to rebuild an sound and vital cultural arts tradition that the Columbus Arts Festival has disconnected from its visitors.
Wednesday, March 23, 2016
A few hits to fill in the blanks
This was a good little record by the Fine Young Cannibals back in 1989. It was a year I do not remember too well. Too much drinking, a few too many drugs and general unhappiness/uncertainty. At the end of the year we moved to Ohio, leaving the alcoholic comfort zone of lousy pay for the mystery of a big city. If I stayed on I would not have survived. The next decade was a combination of being broken down and breaking myself. Bad career decisions were made, one after the other. A marriage fell apart. The next decade seemed to repeat itself with financial strain replacing the alcohol. These days the stressors are different but profound and worrisome. I've found it harder to reach my son when the show in his head is greater than that around him, or if he's in pain. It's hard for him to tell us that, and it weighs heavy.
Then this song becomes the show in my head -
"Oh I know that times are bad
and they make you want to cry
Don't be sad, we'll get by"
All I can say is, maybe.
Thursday, March 17, 2016
So many links, so many mysteries in the hunt for facts
Finally opened up the genealogy binder that I found (in the last place I looked) in my Aunt's apartment and started plugging data into an online family tree database. The site linked me to some other previously unknown to me distant relatives so the tree has a few more branches.
My paternal great-grandparents came from Clitheroe, England, which I knew. But I have his naturalization documents from 1888, which is very cool. The family all settled in Fall River, Mass. and many of them moved to Brooklyn/Queens in the 20's, which is when my father's parents met. They were married in 1928 in Brooklyn at a church that still stands. The Irish on that side I have going back to the early 19th century and those ancestors came from Derry or Dublin. There are also ancestors who lived in New Hampshire and New Brunswick.
My maternal grandmother's story is sometimes painful and difficult. She was a twin, her brother did not live a year. Her Mother died in 1910, she was put in an orphanage then her father died six years later of TB and was buried on Hart Island. Her Mother also had a brother, but he was shot in the head in 1913 and I'm trying to find the documentation of that event. Did he shoot first? My Grandmother's Grandmother had a number of children, none of whom seemed to live past 1910. This is frustrating when you cannot find anything, but the thrill of recovering history happens when you can match a name.
My Mother's Grandmother came to the U.S., alone, from Poland in 1893 and settled in New Britain, Ct.. She married her husband, also from Poland in 1897 and lived in New Jersey for a time before they moved to Brooklyn. I do not know too much of my Mother's Father, neither did she, so I have not really traced that side of the family.
I also have a lot of pictures, none of them written on so I have no idea who all these ancestors are, and there is no one left to identify them that I know of. I do not like lost history, so I will plug away from time to time and get people identified and noted properly. As a librarian/cataloger/archivist it is something I have to do.
My paternal great-grandparents came from Clitheroe, England, which I knew. But I have his naturalization documents from 1888, which is very cool. The family all settled in Fall River, Mass. and many of them moved to Brooklyn/Queens in the 20's, which is when my father's parents met. They were married in 1928 in Brooklyn at a church that still stands. The Irish on that side I have going back to the early 19th century and those ancestors came from Derry or Dublin. There are also ancestors who lived in New Hampshire and New Brunswick.
My maternal grandmother's story is sometimes painful and difficult. She was a twin, her brother did not live a year. Her Mother died in 1910, she was put in an orphanage then her father died six years later of TB and was buried on Hart Island. Her Mother also had a brother, but he was shot in the head in 1913 and I'm trying to find the documentation of that event. Did he shoot first? My Grandmother's Grandmother had a number of children, none of whom seemed to live past 1910. This is frustrating when you cannot find anything, but the thrill of recovering history happens when you can match a name.
My Mother's Grandmother came to the U.S., alone, from Poland in 1893 and settled in New Britain, Ct.. She married her husband, also from Poland in 1897 and lived in New Jersey for a time before they moved to Brooklyn. I do not know too much of my Mother's Father, neither did she, so I have not really traced that side of the family.
I also have a lot of pictures, none of them written on so I have no idea who all these ancestors are, and there is no one left to identify them that I know of. I do not like lost history, so I will plug away from time to time and get people identified and noted properly. As a librarian/cataloger/archivist it is something I have to do.
Tuesday, March 15, 2016
Sunday, March 6, 2016
A trio I did not want to report
Found out yesterday that my Father-in-Law's Cousin's Wife died. Finally got to meet her during our last visit in June. Lovely woman, who had a very subtle and vicious sense of humor. She and her husband were both doctors, helped build hospitals in India in their missionary work. Good people, who sent us a cool quaich, for our wedding, which we used in the ceremony. They also gave me a great word to use in Scrabble. Hoping the best for her husband of at least fifty years, who faces life without his partner.
Was also very dismayed to hear of the death of Monica Harris in a car accident on Thursday. She was the Wife of Joseph, aka Logic, a poet whom I have come to know though his visits to Columbus. They were both just here a couple of weeks ago with their baby, their third. I cannot imagine what he is going though. It's very hard for my brain to deal with three small kids having to grow up without their Mother. This is a family that has been broken, but will be strong. They also need help. A GoFundMe page has been set up on their behalf. If you can, please consider a donation.
After he announced he had pancreatic cancer a few weeks ago, I figured death was inevitable but did not expect it to be so soon. Pat Conroy was one of my favorite writers. His use of rich, expressive language was an incredible skill. His work was a pleasure to read. His best, and worst traits were that he talked to much. Would have loved to have got to hear him read and tell him thank you. That there will be no new Pat Conroy work makes my world a sadder place.
Was also very dismayed to hear of the death of Monica Harris in a car accident on Thursday. She was the Wife of Joseph, aka Logic, a poet whom I have come to know though his visits to Columbus. They were both just here a couple of weeks ago with their baby, their third. I cannot imagine what he is going though. It's very hard for my brain to deal with three small kids having to grow up without their Mother. This is a family that has been broken, but will be strong. They also need help. A GoFundMe page has been set up on their behalf. If you can, please consider a donation.
After he announced he had pancreatic cancer a few weeks ago, I figured death was inevitable but did not expect it to be so soon. Pat Conroy was one of my favorite writers. His use of rich, expressive language was an incredible skill. His work was a pleasure to read. His best, and worst traits were that he talked to much. Would have loved to have got to hear him read and tell him thank you. That there will be no new Pat Conroy work makes my world a sadder place.
Saturday, February 27, 2016
Tale of two cities
Did something out of the norm last night and left the car at home. Since we're not in walkable distance of anything, we took the COTA bus downtown for dinner at a newer restaurant It's been a stressful time and this was a good opportunity to relax, have a good meal, a couple of drinks, and not have to worry about parking downtown or getting an OMVI on the way home.
I did not realize Salt and Pine took up most of the length of a city block. It does not go deep into the building, but the layout is very modern. Some tables are intimate and secluded, while others seem to be on public display. We got a window table with a view of High Street.
The service is excellent, though I could not help but notice our female servers had one button extra unbuttoned on their work shirts. The flank steak I had was outstanding, my wife had a pork cheek pasta that was very good. The cocktails were fresh and potent. I had my first taste of Pisco. Our fig pudding dessert was the one minus. It was too dry and needed a soaking in the sauce.
It is odd, paying an electric bill for dinner. What a few years ago would have been a serious luxury was not so this time. We can't afford to go there weekly, or even monthly, but this was a gift for my wife and I. Ten years ago this would have been impossible. Finances have improved. We're alright, not great, but better than ok.
On a day where the city of Columbus deemed that the short north was no longer a place for low income people to live, the ride home was an unsettling reality of the two cities in my city.
This is the route my wife takes, everyday, and she hears stories, sees things and they're not pleasant. At one stop, a good portion of the passengers got off and crossed over at West Mound. These people were all going to the homeless shelter on Harmon. Heaven help this city if there's another shelter for people in the inner core. We have to have them outside of downtown, out of sight, at a spot you can't access easily by foot. Where your journey to a cot for the night begins at an unlit bus stop.
I do not have any real answers, and I'm not going to be guilt tripped after having an expensive dinner. There's a gap though, between me in a warm room tapping this on my Macbook Pro in our underwater mortgaged house. There are changes coming for the better for my family. Others though, I wonder where there is hope.
I did not realize Salt and Pine took up most of the length of a city block. It does not go deep into the building, but the layout is very modern. Some tables are intimate and secluded, while others seem to be on public display. We got a window table with a view of High Street.
The service is excellent, though I could not help but notice our female servers had one button extra unbuttoned on their work shirts. The flank steak I had was outstanding, my wife had a pork cheek pasta that was very good. The cocktails were fresh and potent. I had my first taste of Pisco. Our fig pudding dessert was the one minus. It was too dry and needed a soaking in the sauce.
It is odd, paying an electric bill for dinner. What a few years ago would have been a serious luxury was not so this time. We can't afford to go there weekly, or even monthly, but this was a gift for my wife and I. Ten years ago this would have been impossible. Finances have improved. We're alright, not great, but better than ok.
On a day where the city of Columbus deemed that the short north was no longer a place for low income people to live, the ride home was an unsettling reality of the two cities in my city.
This is the route my wife takes, everyday, and she hears stories, sees things and they're not pleasant. At one stop, a good portion of the passengers got off and crossed over at West Mound. These people were all going to the homeless shelter on Harmon. Heaven help this city if there's another shelter for people in the inner core. We have to have them outside of downtown, out of sight, at a spot you can't access easily by foot. Where your journey to a cot for the night begins at an unlit bus stop.
I do not have any real answers, and I'm not going to be guilt tripped after having an expensive dinner. There's a gap though, between me in a warm room tapping this on my Macbook Pro in our underwater mortgaged house. There are changes coming for the better for my family. Others though, I wonder where there is hope.
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