Tres años

Happy Anniversary to my lovely Scottish Wife.

91 degrees at 2:42

Even with the ceiling fan on, it is too damn hot to sit in the back room today. I used to have a lot of tolerance for heat. Age, and living for too long where I did not have air conditioning has weakened my resolve so I turn into a lazy, cranky git when the temperature goes over ninety degrees.

It does not help that my son has forgotten to sleep past 4AM. We even set up a mattress for him in our room since it has a/c. I do not want him sleeping in a hot bedroom. His repayment to us is to wake up singing before the birds.

This morning the power went out. It got really quiet, except for my son. I noticed the ceiling fan was off, looked at the clock and the screen was dark. Grabbed my iPod. It was 3:21AM. A couple of minutes later, the power came back on.

Last week's appointment with the behavioral psychologist went well. His OT is off the team, we've lost confidence in her. The behaviorist can't teach him how to chew, we know this, but she has some techniques to get him to tolerate a variety of food. We'll see.

The immature mourning doves are still hanging out by the recycling bin. Yesterday morning they greeted me.

It's been neat having them around. I'd name them, but the moment that happens they'll get eaten by a cat or fly off to their grown up mourning dove lives or whatever they do when mom stops puking in their mouths. I have not seen them today. See? Just by thinking about it, they disappear.

Busy week ahead, and The Arts Festival is next weekend. The weather is supposed to be good, the temperatures lower, at least.

My wife and I celebrate our third wedding anniversary on Wednesday, we'll be at WB. We'll have a nice dinner out on Thursday.

My son's last day of third grade is on Thursday, day camp starts on June 11th. Where the hell did May go?

Food can heal

A lingering headache had me leaving work early today. Needed some food and did not want to go to a drive through. Also wanted something different. Thought about a taco truck, but them remembered another place on the East Side of town that people have been saying very good things about for years.

Creole Kitchen is in a part of town I do not normally go to. It's in a strip center, and it's not that easy to find. Just look for the place on the Mt. Vernon Ave. side of the center that does not have a sign. See that crowd of people? You're there.

My knowledge of Louisiana cuisine is limited. I could not tell you the difference between Creole and Cajun. When I walked in a saw the menu on the wall my eyes glazed over a little. Not because of fear, or seeing unfamiliar dishes, but because I wanted to eat everything. It hurt to have to settle on one thing. I could have ordered a couple of half orders, but I'll save myself for the next visit, and there will be one. They even serve breakfast, and I want to try a beignet, and the jambalaya and the wings and a po' boy...

Ended up ordering the Fettuccine Creole, a pasta dish with a spiced up sauce and generous portions of ham and sausage. I ate half for lunch, and will have the rest for dinner. It is delicious. A bargain for ten bucks.

There are four small tables and six chairs in the small space. It's run down, no frills. It's bustling, but the staff are very friendly and the cooks know what they're doing. I'm trying to get over the guilt about not going here sooner. If this was in a trendier location in the city, there would be lines out the door, reservations would have to be made weeks in advance, and the prices would be higher.

What I'm Drinking - 16

An overwhelming series of events

Saturday, after my son's swimming lesson, we came out of the locker room. We walked by the head of the swimming program for the building, and she was visibly upset. She told us she just found out that the mother of one of the lifeguards died very suddenly a few minutes before. The lifeguard was working and got the phone call from her father. The woman was watering flowers in her garden and dropped dead. Just like that, not much older than me. As we left the building after I expressed my condolences, I heard people sobbing.

This morning I saw the name of a coworker in the obituary column. I knew she was ill, but few knew it was cancer. She was always friendly and professional in my dealings with her. She led me to get my Christmas through the OSU farm every year. Going to miss her. Only fifty seven. The workplace was numb today. I suspect it will be for a brief time.

My expression of skepticism regarding my son's appointment with the nutritionist resulted in a strongly worded six page letter from his OT. She pointed a bit of blame toward his caregivers in her reasons to send this letter. That we're not doing the work. Said that he has shown little progress and has she's essentially given up on him unless me meet certain conditions. The conditions are not unreasonable, but she made other statements, including her belief that my son will never be able to chew food and get nutrition from it. How can you trust a therapist with that much pessimism? How can you think she's willing to invest in any more improvement for him? We have an appointment with his behaviorist on Wednesday. Could be tense.

So questioning the methods of a medical professional results in a six page diatribe. Yes, there is a problem.

In happier news there are a couple of good records out right now including this one from Beach House.



This is lovely dream pop. really fine record with nary a bad cut on it.

I'm also pleased with the new one from Admiral Fallow.



Have a feeling this band is going to increase their audience a lot this year.

Nature, yeah

My wife noticed them on our recycling bin this morning. A bit later in the day the baby Mourning Doves were nestling in our compost heap.

A couple of minutes later they fluttered back to the recycling bin.

Then Mom showed up and I switched over to video.

I am Foul Ball Bitter

Last night I did a feature at Kafe Kerouac. It was a benefit for the Writers' Block Slam team to raise money for their trip to Charlotte in August. A donation for stage time that really worked well this year.

My fifteen minutes was of all new work. I'm rarely confident about it, but pieced together a few poems that had been sitting in my 'poetry' gmail file for as long as a year and as short as last week. Time to release the work, and see what happens.

Here's the set list, for record keeping purposes.

Today is My Friday
318 Feet From Home Plate
Conversations with the Woman Who Cuts My Hair, When we Accidentally Met at the Jiffy Lube
270 Loop
The 17 Effects of Relegation
The Hidden Letter G
Turkish Projection

Some of went over a lot better than expected. It felt a lot stronger doing it than when I organized the work. One still does not feel finished, another couple still need some edits, one can be tossed out completely, yet another was spot on.

And it went much too quickly.

Come for the poetry, stay for the poetry.

Hey I'm doing a reading tonight at Kafe Kerouac!

Starts at 10:30. Ends at 10:45. After that, there will be many other poets doing an all night reading to benefit the Writers' Block Poetry Slam Team.

Do not wait!

Saturday we were shopping in the Short North and came across a liquor cabinet. We have been looking for one for awhile. The price was good, even better on Wednesday. It's a large antique and furniture store that sells its items on consignment and lowers prices the longer they're in the shop.

So we decided to wait.

You can guess the outcome.

We were shown another, similar, item, but it was not even close to what we wanted.

Over dinner we were speculating what the buyers were going to do with the cabinet. Hipsters applying decoupage of faux old wine labels to the lid. Freaks using it to store jars of eyeballs. Damn, we just wanted a nice piece of furniture to put our booze in.

Insert all kinds of cliches about snoozing and losing here.

You know, if that was the worst thing to ever happen to us for the rest of our lives, things will be very good.

Hey Mister, can we have our ball back?

Oh to live on the west side, where your neighbor's buddy brings over his car which has a stereo that rattles the upstairs furniture around. This happened several times yesterday afternoon. Classy, like the new overweight patriarch standing on the back patio, talking on his cell, wearing only boxers.

I'm talking bets on when the inflatable pool makes its annual appearance.

Then again, they're not the ones with 3/4 of a crappy Sauder computer desk sitting in the backyard.

There are at least three kids who live there. Last week my wife was doing some gardening and they all came up to the fence to talk to her. She had an audience.

The other day one of the asked me why I locked my car door. Yes, it happened again.

For my wife, and for me as well, it's a bit odd being asked questions by a child. We're not used to it. I'm certainly not. Nine years in and my own son still does not ask questions.

I was reading in the back room a couple of days ago when he came in, stood by the back door, said, "Outside."

I told him he could go out if he put his shoes on. He leaves. A couple of minutes later he shows up, shoes on the right feet, velcro not quite tight enough. He got to go out.

The neighbor's kids keep asking about him. What do we say? They know he's different.

They also keep throwing their balls over our fence, which does not bother me. When I was around their age we had asshole neighbors behind us who were total dicks when we asked to get a ball that went into their yard. I vowed to not be like them.

In other news I'm doing a short feature at 10:30 on Friday night at Kafe Kerouac to benefit the Writers' Block Poetry Slam team. Admission is free.

The one hour move

One week later and the move at work has gone well enough. There is a new hire and the department head wanted to keep everyone in the division together so I'm the one to move, about twenty five feet.

To the right of my cubicle there was a huge window that overlooked a parking lot. Still, it's a big window and I'll miss not having to get up to see it.

Now, to the right is another cubicle. To the left is another cubicle. Just over my monitor is the back of an E. Gordon Gee bobblehead. The person who owns the bobblehead graciously offered to turn it around so I can see him all day, even offered to lend him to me.

I politely declined.

Recapping a busy weekend

Saw the Avengers on Friday night. An hour and a half of exposition that leads to an hour of carnage as a good portion of Midtown Manhattan is destroyed. Very entertaining, no wonder it has taken in a billion worldwide already.

Walked around the Short North on Saturday and may have found an object we've been looking for to go into the dining room.

Watched the Crew pay an ugly game on Saturday night, only to come out victorious.

Went to a newer place in the Arena District, the Three Legged Mare (dislike the name, but it's a festive enough place) on Sunday morning to watch Survival Sunday. Ten Premier League games going at once, seven being televised on U.S. outlets for the first time. A very dramatic morning of sports. I had nothing really at stake, (Everton ended up in seventh, finishing ahead of Liverpool. Yay!) but the race for the championship title came down to a dramatic goal by Sergio Aguero in the final seconds to give Manchester City the edge. It was incredible. A few dozen soccer fans, some of whom were Manchester United supporters all got caught up in the spirit of fair play and all that. Everyone called Joey Barton names. He should be banned, not given just a lengthy suspension.

Came up with an idea yesterday afternoon that had me tearing apart a behemoth of a computer desk, throwing it in the trash and arranging bulk pickup. We put the crap that was on the desk on bookshelves a friend gave us, and pitched out even more stuff. Now there's more wall space, and floor space which is reserved for an item we saw on Saturday. Watch this blog for further developments. It is a bit unsettling turning the corner into the dining room and seeing no desk. You get used to things after nine years.

This Friday I have a mini-feature at Kafe Kerouac. I'm taking part in an all night fund raiser for the Writers' Block poetry slam team to get them some dough for their trip to Charlotte in August. I'm hitting the stage at 10:30PM with some old and new. Going to be a fun night. 

Rest in Peace, Duck Dunn

I had a dream about him a couple of years ago. Never saw him play live.



One of the greats. Rest in Peace.

Underwhelming at best

Today my son had an appointment with a nutritionist. We were told to arrive early, and with a food chart of what he ate over a four day period.

I got to the information desk where I was to check in and was treated rather obnoxiously by the customer service rep, "You're going to have to wait."

"Well I was told to arrive early."

Was also told we would be billed if we arrived more than twenty minutes late.

The nutritionist finally showed up, twenty minutes after our scheduled appointment time.

Her main solutions to my son's condition were vitamin supplements and Duocal, an expensive powder of chemicals and empty calories. We've been hearing this for years. My son detects things if you put them in his food, and will not eat, at all, once he's found them.

I wonder if this specialist actually read his file.

She also suggested we put the food we eat in a blender and see if he'll eat that.

Wow, what a new approach. Again. Did you read the file?

I know this specialist's role does not concern him actually eating, but the amount of vitamins and calories that go into my son's body. I heard nothing new today, and my time was mostly wasted. I did get a couple of tips on supplements that I am going to get for him.

For now though, for me it's Mellow Corn.

A Matter of Utmost Importance

The end of the EPL season is this Sunday. Who cares about the drama that will unfold. What's more important is who has the coolest hair.

Is it Benoit Assou-Ekotto of Tottenham.

Marouane Fellaini of Everton.

Or David Luiz of Chelsea.

Voting ends Sunday at 10AM.

What I'm Drinking - 15

Astute or nosy?

As I got out of my car at work on Friday morning, I locked the doors. A person who works in another part of the building, who I do not know very well asked me why I locked my door.

Was I afraid, "Someone would rummage through my stuff?"

"It's just a habit," I said.

"You must be from the east coast."

"Well I live on the west side, too."

Not trying, but succeeding

Went to an art opening last night and saw some intriguing work by Columbus artist Stephanie Rond. I used to work with her until she left to pursue her art. She has put a lot of hard work into her style and craft, art that tells a story, can be playful and is solidly feminist.

Part of a series of English Cottages with an added touch

From the S. Dot Rigsby Museum of Contemporary Art

Checkmate

Her exhibit, Toys and Tools : New Works by Stephanie Rond, will be at Ray's Living Room, 17 Brickel Street in Columbus through July 20th. Gallery hours are Tues - Sat 11am - 5pm
For more information on Stephanie Rond, click here for her website.

Rest in Peace, Adam Yauch

I first heard them in the early eighties, home from college, late night on one of the New York City college stations. Cookie Puss. A combo of punk and rap that I had never heard before.

A few years later License to Ill came out and was a game changer. Big seller. Huge during a time when MTV still played videos. I was amazed at the production of Paul's Boutique and the massive amount of sampling that went into it. One of the best nights of DJing of my life had a former bouncer of the bar we were in screaming the lyrics of Fight for Your Right at me.



They kept it going in the nineties with one of the best music videos ever made.

It was announced today that MCA aka Adam Yauch died of cancer. He was my age.

This man is amazing

That was a one off with Jack White.

He has a new record out later this month, working again with Ethan Johns. He covers Tom Waits for God's sake!



And Leonard Cohen

I thought seeing 30/30 every day in April was time consuming. I was wrong.

For the record. I wrote seven poems in April. Put one of them here. Another in Facebook notes. None of them were haiku.

It's great when poets get a book deal. It really is. Right now there's a publisher that is running a contest. About twenty poets are finalists in a process that will end with about four to eight of them getting published. This month, they have to post a video on Youtube. The number of "likes" they get will count towards their overall grade. Twenty percent from what I understand. This is also not a fly by night publisher. You have to be a good page poet to get your work here. They're legitimate and high quality.

Sure, if you're the publisher you want to know if the poet can read their work in public. Part of the book deal is that they tour with their work. Part of this smacks of American Idol to me. A gimmick that bores the crap out of me. Not only that but having to scroll past the same twenty links on my Facebook feed multiple times a day makes me a bit cranky.

So if we click on all the links, which makes the voting process equal, what happens then? They can't all be winners, right? Hard to imagine being the poet who, literary merits being equal, did not get a book deal because their video did not get enough hits on Youtube. I guess that's branding in the modern world.

It makes me want to see the same pictures that George Takei posts, over and over, because it takes up less of my time.

Seriously. Good luck to all the poets, especially the ones who work hard and do not get the deal. Especially the ones who do get the deal and survive this ordeal.