acb

Home for the Holidays

2005-12-26T12:19:00.000-08:00

A 12 hour drive later and I was home.

I have been having a lovely time on the home front for the holidays. The majority of my time has been spent in front of the fireplace enjoying some much need lounge time! However, hiking around the property, skiing, and meeting up with some friends has also taken up some time. Last Thursday I went out the the Ridge, Scio's only bar. It was pretty quite besides the heated conversation about Chevy trucks and last nights pool match. I knew most of the old timers there and received plenty of comments about my new North Carolina status.

My semester at ASU finished with bang on two fronts: 1)ASU won the Division 1-AA national championship in a killer game vs. NIU and 2) I got a 4.0. I did more work this semester than, seemingly, my entire undergraduate career. I think my 2.5 years out of school changed my work ethic and got my priorities in line. I did manage to fit some very fun/wild/scandalous times in and certainly plan to keep that rolling into next semester. The next year should prove to be quite interesting on the travel front with trips to Chicago (March) and Montana (July) and to India (May) and Costa Rica (December) - all of which I am quite stoked about.

Though I love being home, it is about that time to head back down south. Before all the other students return, I hope to spend some time in nice-quite Boone. I want to get plenty of skiing in and get up into those mountains.

Huck Finn and Babe

2005-11-14T13:36:00.000-08:00

A very fun night in Boone.

One year later...back in Bristol.

2005-09-19T06:28:00.000-07:00

Well readership of none, greetings after my multi-week break from blogging. Here I am in Boone, NC in my first year of grad school at Appalachian State University. I am hitting up the Masters in Geography Department like a hill-top kegger (upstate NY reference). When not thinking about the spatial nature of the world, I have spent much time exploring my new surroundings. Whether it is getting in the truck and driving through the hills - tunes cranked naturally - or getting on the trail, I am outside whenever I can. I have a choice roof set-up as well were I can lay in the sun scantily clad while reading about dead white geographers.

This weekend, however, it was back in sunny Bristol, VA/TN for the Rhythm and Roots Reunion Festival. There was a big ol' shift in the fest-going routine...I went with a friend. Yes, the solo mission was placed aside and I had a bitchin' good time. My geography compatriot Andi and I took off Friday afternoon and stayed through Sunday. She is from northern Alabama, went to Auburn, and is a super cool chika. The entire weekend was full of us walking around town, dancing while others stared, drank while judging those who passed by, and enjoying a ton of great music. We both had on the shagdar at all times glaring at hot bearded men..there were a few.

On the music front, always a good time were Old Crow, Tim O'Brian, Doyle Lawson, The Everybodyfields, and so many more. Whenever I get to be amongst the people of these festivals I get reminded why I came down to this area and why I can see myself being here for a while. Even when I say I am from New York, which is a four letter word down here, I get a warm smile. All of this makes me ache for the day when I can have that house in the hills where music always flows and where contentment is in the form of simplicity.

The Triple Threat

2005-08-01T14:27:00.000-07:00

On trucks in my native Allegany County there exists what I call "the triple threat" - the combination of three specific bumper stickers that is a must if you plan on identifying with our local culture. Today was a grand day for the TT. I witnessed a variation on one of the stable threat members that was quite choice.

Our three threat stickers are as follows: 1) Some kind of patriotic stamp, i.e. "Support the troops," an American Flag, etc... 2) An homage to their prefered "outdoorsman" sport of choice, i.e. "I'd rather be bow hunting," 3) and, may I say the most important, Calvin pissing on the hated NASCAR number of choice.

Well, today, that Calvin sticker was altered on a shiny F-150. Instead of Calvin pissing on Gordon's big ol' 24, he was pissing on OSAMA. It was classic.

So long Sweats McGee

2005-07-27T05:46:00.000-07:00

On this, the 27th of July 2005, sweltering DC summer day, I say farewell to CSPI. My last day is here and I must say I have jack shit to do. I plan to spend my last 8 hours here searching for the ultimate trail running shoes as my current pair have acquired some kind of funk that no man made product can destroy. However, since I am broke as a joke, I will just sigh and not make any purchases. Second, I will make my way through the NYT with a little less guilt than usual. Third, I will do more research on my upcoming vehicle purchase. Anyway, who cares. I get to spend the next 3 days with two of my best pals packing, listening to good tunes whilst packing, and enjoying my remaining time here. Not to mention my impending going-away party that should be a blast! Cheerio DC.

2005-06-21T10:52:00.000-07:00

You can just see the scaffolding of the stage on the left. This was taken on the last night. Photos can never capture the glory of sunset, but, I tried.

2005-06-21T10:05:00.000-07:00

The beer was a phenominal local brew and at 9000 ft. it didn't take too many.

2005-06-21T10:03:00.000-07:00

Each night the moon would rise over the mountains - that is what I am pointing at. Side note - on day 1 I was sans-hat. Day 2 my face felt, even after lathering myself in sunblock, like a saddle.

2005-06-21T09:59:00.000-07:00

Wake UP! After basking in the sun for a several hours, I would need to refuel with a beer/coffee combo to get me psyched for the evening sets.

2005-06-21T09:56:00.000-07:00

Being the early riser I am, and, being on east-coast time, I was able to go for a few morning hikes. This was taken at about 6 am as the sun was rising.

2005-06-21T09:53:00.000-07:00

Our glorious campground.

2005-06-21T09:51:00.000-07:00

6 days later, we made it back from Telluride in our noble steed. I had the privledge of riding in "the nook" in the back. This photo was taken the morning after leaving Telluride at midnight to get back to our 10:30 am Denver flight. So, this is at about 7:30 am post my first shower in 5 days, getting ready to head to the airport.

tune.

2005-06-10T07:16:00.000-07:00

Last night I rediscovered a mixed CD that was, at the time, the main set in my nightly musical showcase. Now a year or so later, as each new song played, it took me back. It is a mix of Townes Van Zandt tunes as sung by some of bluegrass's finest.

Late last night, it was one sung by Doc that made me weak - the tune "If I needed you." As I lay in bed with only my old "Taylor Guitar" t-shirt to cover a bit of my sweat glistened skin, I felt vulnerable to those words.

If I needed you
Would you come to me,
Would you come to me,
And ease my pain?
If you needed me
I would come to you
I’d swim the seas
For to ease your pain
In the night forlorn
The morning’s born
And the morning shines
With the lights of love
You will miss sunrise
If you close your eyes
That would break
My heart in two
The lady’s with me now
Since I showed her how
To lay her lily
Hand in mine
Loop and lil agree
She’s a sight to see
And a treasure for
The poor to find

Townes wrote that tune after waking in the middle of the night from a codeine induced sleep. Last night, I felt as if he wrote that tune for me. Thanks Doc and Townes...you do me right.

2005-05-31T08:26:00.000-07:00

Who is the loser in the background? Sylv is getting a nice look-see at the girls - nothing she hasn't seen before...remember, as bandmates, we spend a lot of time in the close quarters of our tour bus, aka. The Traveling Shower.

2005-05-31T08:01:00.000-07:00

So, my dear friend Sylvia visited me in DC over Memorial Day weekend. I cherish our friendship dearly for several reasons. One, she is an energetic, compassionate, intelligent, insightful, and beautiful woman. When we get together, there is no pause in conversation. We can talk for hours about life and all its quirks - both the good and the bad. This photo was taken in the rose garden at the Hirschorn Sculpture Museum - it was a great day.

My ass and the rest of the world.

2005-05-16T06:53:00.000-07:00

The invent of low-rise jeans has continued to change my life and the lives of others. More specifically, my low-rise jeans have given commuters on their morning drive down 16th St. a precious site. No matter the belt or the upright posture, I feel that cool breeze streamline down my back revealing to me just how low my tattered denims sit. I am not talking asscracksville, but maybe in the suburbs of that town. However, this is a sacrifice I am willing to make.

The thing is, I like how they fit low on the hips - even for those of us who have the hips of a 12-year-old boy. I like how they can make the ass look like two halves of a cantaloupe rather than posing the question to onlookers "where does the ass end and the back begin" - I feel these are two very separate entities.

Sadly, we have all seen when low-rise goes wrong. The current fat attack on our Nation has spanned a virtual army of low-rise wearing chubbies that..."over flow." Even the women that have great figures can suffer from this trend. These ladies want that smaller size but, as a result, the cup runneth over.

Purchasing these beauties is an art that must be mastered. I am suffering from "sag-ass" in some of mine as a result of too many times through the washer and losing a few pounds post-knee surgery. They have served me well for a number of years; however, their once melon-defining quality has been lost.

Though the thought of several hundred commuters getting a peak at the very top of my bottom is somewhat distressing (FYI - this is not a view of the grand-canyon...just a mere glimpse at the foothills) I will continue to saddle up and ride until that faithful day when someone yells at me to pack that dump truck I call an ass into some higher-slung denim.

2005-05-16T06:51:00.000-07:00

The main stage. Both during the day and at night the main stage was a glorious view. The towering pencil-straight trees were a luscious green and, in the evening, were flooded with an awe inspiring light.

2005-05-16T06:43:00.000-07:00

View from inside my tent. This is what I had the privledge waking up to my 3 mornings in Wilkesboro. To bed at night with the sound of fiddles and bangos - awake in the morning with the sounds of the river.

Merlefest 2005 - How life should be.

2005-05-02T06:40:00.000-07:00

I wish I could encapsulate all the good things about my past weekend into words. I wish I could convey the features of the landscape for you to imagine how glorious the surroundings were. I wish I could explain how the music that was played soared above anything I could ever describe.

This past weekend I went on yet another solo-mission to hear bluegrass. I was taken to Wilkesboro, North Carolina for Merlefest - a celebration of the life, music, and ideals of Merle Watson - son of Doc. I cut out early from work on Thursday and hit the road - 6 hours later I was setting up my tent on a river bank surrounded by folks from all over who share my love for bluegrass and old-time music. Thursday night I was able to see Loretta Lynn, which set the bar for the next 3 days. She is a true storyteller.

Friday morning, naturally, I woke around 7:30 - never a break. I wanted to get a taste for the local flare, so, I headed to the main drag of town to "the 50s" diner. Wow, it was classic. The accents were thick, the gravy thicker, the biscuits were fresh, and there was something called "livermush" that was served in a sort of patty form alongside your breakfast dish of choice. Then, for a beverage, people were drinking Coke. All the quirks included, it felt very familial.

Friday, Saturday, and Sunday are a blur of pure incredible. One act after the next blew me away. How can fingers pick that fast? How can harmony sound so sweet? How can music make me feel so good? I ache for what I felt those days. It made me yearn for a lifetime of passion, simplicity, contentment, and enlightenment. However, in the meantime, the great thing about this kind of music is as I sit here at my desk amongst the hustle and bustle of the city, I can live vicariously through what is pumping through my headphones....whew...listen to that fiddle.

2005-01-19T08:27:00.000-08:00

Four Generations

2005-01-19T08:20:00.000-08:00

Faith and I at the Building Museum in DC. Faith, Erin, John, and I had a really nice day exploring on a cool Saturday. We saw "liquid concrete" an exhibit displaying the evolution and innovations in concrete. We then wandered around Chinatown eventually making our way into a Chinese grocery store which yielded a fabulous stir fry later in the evening!

Why can't I listen to the wind to the wind of my soul?

2004-12-15T11:50:00.000-08:00

A shifting wind runs through me. I crave change while simultaneously yearn for contentment. Needless to say, if and when that contentment is reached, those damn winds come back and shift once again.

As I think about this topic, I am now realizing there is no way I will be able to cover even the tip of the iceberg. This idea...no...ethos...is a core component to how I work. Amazingly, it is also a cog in thewheels for my "am I broken" thoughts.

Thus, this is merely the introduction to what will be multiple entries of self introspection/deprecation.

2004-11-24T08:03:00.000-08:00

2nd set of stiches in my life. Can anyone else name the other?

2004-11-24T08:01:00.000-08:00

1 week post-surgery

G, D, E, C, A...How many songs can I play?

2004-10-28T13:15:00.000-07:00

It will be called the Morphine Session. The lyrics with be brutally honest and filled with metaphors of better days. I will tell the tales of a rambler out west and a hooker up north. I will ache for life's truths and curse their existence.

I will be so doped telling a tale not entirely based on my life will take far too much energy. Like a drunken phone call I'll say everything I've ever wanted to. When the morphine is gone I'll hope no one and everyone will have heard my songs.

It will be an album stoners crave and a broken-heart absorbs. The mix of an Egon Schiele painting and a Guthrie tune. In the liner notes I will thank morphine.

28 sq/ft of BLISS.

2004-10-25T08:41:00.000-07:00

The question was posed a little something like this: Does your bed feel better when crawling in at night or while keeping cozy after hitting the snooze in the morning?

Side note: After falling asleep jeans and all on the recliner Saturday night waking up contorted and aching for my bed, I felt it necessary to deeply consider this query.

So, last night I was attempting to make the ultimate evening bed experience, as, I know, it would have some major competition with the morning bed experience. I turned on the heating pad and tucked it under the covers to do a little pre-heat then took a bath to bring the core temp. up. After wrapping up in the ol' robe I turned on a little Neil, Harvest Moon and sunk under the down comforter. It was glorious.

HOLD THE PRESSES. The night takes a turn for the worse. After turning my lamp off, my mind starts going buck-wild. This is the problem with my bed at night - no matter how comfortable I am, how much I am enjoying the tunes, I analyze life when the lights go out. Both joyful and worrisome thoughts march through my mind. My troubled thoughts are like disrespectful hikers wandering off the path trampling the delicate flora and fauna of my mind. Eventually I whip them into place, however, they have done their damage and have taken some points from the evening-bed-experience.

In total contrast, this morning, I was laying on 28 sq/ft of bliss. My bed was warm and my mind was filled with nothing but joyful thoughts. Yes, there is the thought of getting out of bed, but who the hell cares. I was happy.

Score: Morning 1 Evening 1/2 (it still had its moments)

Mein Knie ist Kaput!

2004-10-21T11:40:00.000-07:00

I wish I could say it was a Bon Jovi-esque "Blaze of glory" take down. I wish I could say it was the closing seconds of the championship game. I wish I could say it was not less than a minute into a late night indoor soccer game against, what looked like, a group of high school friends that graduated together in '92 (the ladies were rocking the bangs, the fellas were sportin the stash).

Oh it popped and it popped good. My teammates, the other team, and the fellas smokin’ a J in the parking lot heard that shit! I was carried off the field by two sweating gents and placed on our bench. "Elevate." "Ice." "How does it feel?" On and on and on. I was taken home that night pissed and wondering if I should follow the advice of my teammates to "get it checked out."

The next morning, I come into work hobbling and telling my tale. My co-workers put on the pressure and have me call an orthopedist. I was able to get in that day - a mere 3 hours after I called. While waiting, I am thinking if nothing is wrong (which I suspect) I will have wasted a 10$ co-pay and cab fare. The doc comes in, I demonstrate my injury on the, somewhat ironic, green carpeting. I lay back on the bed/table - what the hell are those things called anyway - and he checks it out. He sends me to get some x-rays and tells me he will tell me what has happened upon my return - he seems confident.

The x-rays are now back and he says the bones "look good," "this is what a normal knee should look like," etc... (I am thinking now he will say ice, elevate, and you'll be better in no time...I was wrong.) Unfortunately, he said, you have torn your ACL and, for the first time, my eyes well up with tears. He then goes through the rigmarole of what my surgery options are and what recovery will be like. I am looking at crutches for 5-7 days, some kind of brace for a while, at 4 months I can run, and 9 months I am back to my usual self.The good news is I can function with this now. I wear a big blue brace when I am walking around outside, but, can just gimp around without the brace no problem.

Well, I am done talking about this. Last night a guy, who brought his own pool stick to the bar, 1/2 way to bald, wearing light-wash denim, inappropriatly staring, said I have a lot more going for me than my pool skills (by the way - I suck at pool). SWEET GOD - can I attract any more of that type-o-guy. AHHH. Was my torn jeans, t-shirt, birks, crazy red hair, persona just putting out the "hey I want to stop hanging out with my frineds and get some vibe." RRR. I love how I have turned a post about surgery into this shit.

Comments? Anyone?

2004-10-08T09:30:00.000-07:00

My tent and I. I was not on a hill - my camera was just on the hood of the car. I attempted to make it up-right with a rock...I had only mild success.

2004-10-08T07:20:00.000-07:00

The highlight of my weekend was when Gillian and David had OCMS on stage and pollished off the night.

2004-10-08T07:18:00.000-07:00

A few weeks back, I got in the car bound for Bristol, TN. This was a solo mission with one objective - to hear as much stellar music as possible. My first stop was Lexington, VA to hear Gillian Welch and David Rawlings play under a big white tent as one of the many summer hurricanes rolled through. Old Crow Medicine Show opened for them - what fun. I had never heard them play before, but, instantly fell in love. The show, and everything about it, was grand. Contrary to seeing Gillian play in DC, in Lexington, I was not surrounded by other 20-something hipsters. I was surrounded by men and women discussing how old Stanley Bros tunes and chewing cud. That night I stayed with the Coffee family. They were old friends of the Lattime family from Geneseo (my priest from college). The next morning I pushed off on my way to the Rhythm and Roots Festival in Bristol, TN. I pulled into my campground around noon, set up shop (see above photo), and headed to town. The music began at noon with 5 stages set up along about a 4 block Main St. This was the furthest south I had ever been (besides my 2 visits to Florida via. plane to the Orlando area). The accents were thick and the people were friendly. I wandered around for about 2 hours listening to different "old timer" country before I found my sittin' place for the rest of the day/night on a grassy knoll by the farthest west stage, the "Country Stage." From about 3pm on I was sipping my liter of ice tea and absorbing the music. I was there alone, however, I felt right welcome with the music as the only company I needed. My three favorite acts of the weekend were, one of my new favs, a young (as in my age) trio the Everybodyfields, then came on Old Crow Medicine Show. Of course, the final act was Gillian and David. Sitting on my grassy knoll under the clear Tennessee sky listening to the harmonies and awe inspiring solo-rifs coming from the two on stage was pure contentment. On my drive home along the foot hills of the Appalachian mountains, I was not dreading going back to the everyday get-up-and-go world I live in - I was forward looking to living my days filled with the music I had heard and waiting for the day I have the privilege of hearing it live again.

2004-10-08T06:52:00.000-07:00

Faith at Kinderfest.

2004-10-08T06:51:00.000-07:00

The Hutson's on a beautiful fall day at Kinderfest.

2004-10-07T11:17:00.000-07:00

David Rawlings. He will me mine, oh yes, he will me mine.

2004-09-08T07:57:00.000-07:00

Ahh, in front of the hearth.

CHi Cago

2004-09-07T07:54:00.000-07:00

A few weeks back I made the journey to Chicago to meet up with a good friend and fellow band mate whom I meet while studying in Austria. After not seeing each other for over two years, after the 40 minute ride from the airport to her house, it was like we had never left. Day one was spent at North Shore beach watching Misty May and Carrie Walsh whomp some ass at beach volleyball (for those not in the know, these were our gold medal winners in Athens). That evening we went out with some of Sylv's friends and had a very enjoyable night on the town. The next day was spent at Grant Park for Jazz Fest. We set up shop and enjoyed great music all day. As the night was winding the skyline lit up behind us - it was one of those great days.

2004-08-17T13:53:00.000-07:00

Dad and Faith.

ADK - LOJ

2004-08-10T13:44:00.000-07:00

My favorite place to breath. My favorite place to sing. My favorite place to laugh.

2004-08-08T11:13:00.000-07:00

Kates and Paul in the ADKs.

2004-07-22T13:06:00.000-07:00

My Feefer

Lethargy has set in.

2004-07-22T12:33:00.000-07:00

Wandering mind, tired eyes, a vice-gripped head - I hate 3pm. 3pm is a time one should be preparing a late lunch. 3 pm is a time to sit and gear up for Oprah at 4. Or, to top them all, 3 pm is the time to take a nap after your mildly-late 2 pm lunch and have a good snooze before easing your way awake to watch Oprah at 4. Instead I sit here at 3:35 in the mid-day-haze. Were down is up and up is down. Were tired is an understatement and hunger is starting to rear its evil head. I imagine the sheer bliss of being in 78 degree pool water. When Adam Sander was asked "what are you thinking" (Airheads, 1994) his answer..."swimming pools." Me too Adam...me too.

2004-07-04T07:56:00.000-07:00

The Girls came down for a visit over the weekend of the 4th. We hit up Chief Ikes crazy style.

Why Can't I Ever Shut Up!

2004-06-23T13:42:00.000-07:00

Yammer Yammer Flib Flab - On my all time top 10 "Things that I fear other people find annoying about me" list is my tendancy to ramble. On and on I go, where I stop, know one cares as they have already zoned out.

In Latin I would be called Femina Loquacitas. If I lived during the Pleistocene Epoch I would have hunted by confusing my prey with over-the-top hand gestures, seeming un-endless "would you rathers," and expressing my frustration with the TV show "FRIENDS" where a certain Ross places T-Rex in the Cambrian period and practically has Homo Erectus munching on Trilobites he caught in a near by stream. While "listening" my prey begins to day-dream of the sex they had the past night while I, on the other had, have not had this option since being a new-comer to DC and have been able to hone all of that pent up energy so to TROUNCE them and shred their carcass with my tazor-blades.

One day I will find someone that thinks of these stories not as rambling piles of dog shit but as gems of a breathtaking wordsmith.

The art of the strut

2004-06-14T09:00:00.000-07:00

This weekend I was witness to some classic struttery - the kind of walk that a woman does to put other women in her presence in their place. Shoulders back, chin high, evil eyes focused on a distant object, and the gate of a runway model/old-school western actor. She was brazen with confidence - it oozed from every pore like a newly tapped maple. I, of course, while analyzing her to a "t" was thinking how utterly ridiculous I would look if I attempted such a walk. So, to all those strutters - for every one person you impress, there are ten judgmental woman beating you down.

mini-skirts and delusions

2004-06-09T13:28:00.000-07:00

At the end of my night, my cab driver spoke of his daughter who at 25 walked across the stage of her college graduation very pregnant and bearing a child whose father was not taking responsibility. They met when she was visiting a friend from school and he was driving the greyhound bus she was on. My driver believes she was a virgin before that bus driver - I believe that's all a parent can think. Before that cab ride I was in a concert venue surrounded by teens that looked just as virginal as I am tan. With their mini-mini skirts and their shirt that resemble training-bras - I'm sure their parent's minds have not been corrupted by the harsh realities of where those skirts lead.

The Birds and the Bees and the Cottonwood Trees

2004-06-01T13:50:00.000-07:00

What a wonderful weekend. The sun shone down through the crisp blue sky reflecting off of the cotton flowing and dancing like fairies leaving their cottonwood home for the first time. Through sweat and laughter, mites and bites, memories and dust, we had a glorious time.

Men in pink shirts

2004-05-26T06:30:00.000-07:00

Alone he stands, on the edge of trendy, quite confident in himself as he is draped in polo pepto-bismol. The olive green slacks complement the shirt and the euro-style square toe shoes make a stunning base, while over one shoulder is a fashionably tattered leather satchel. He begins his strut across the cross-walk as if he were in Milan during fashion week and the cross-walk was an elevated cat-walk. However, just as he hits his stride, like a cinematic slow-mo shot coming from the opposite side of the street, another man with a brazen pink shirt. Alone in pink is one thing, pink ala deux, is another. The two men look opposite ways as their paths cross pretending they did not see their rouge compatriots enclosing upon them. I was ready for a rumble, however, the moment passed and there was silence. Once all was said and done, I had to ask myself, were they as uncomfortable as I during this brush of fashion-drama, or were they so comfortable in their duel lust for color, there was an un-seen "high-five" embracing all that is right in the world.

zwei.

2004-05-25T11:55:00.000-07:00

Afternoon coffee. I am trying to faze my way back to seltzer...cool, refreshing, fizzy seltzer. It all started when one afternoon I needed a pick-me-up, so, I got my "Bausum & Duckett - electric Co INC." trucker-sized insulated mug and filled it with iced coffee. It was gloriously invigorating - a real zinger when I need it. Speaking of zingers, does anyone else remember those...mmmm...Certainly something I only had when at Alisha Yeaney's house - my elementary school best-friend and partner in crime. Anyway, back to the coffee. Now I find myself, eyes heavy, staring at the wall, for what seems like an eternity when, BLAST, only a minute has passed. Oh well, I sign off today on my way to fill up the B&D mug and get moving again.

2004-01-02T11:15:00.000-08:00

New Years at 4414.