Shift at the bar last night. Open mic night, so nothing too crazy. I’m sure many locals were crowded around various tv screens across the city, watching the Pens in the playoffs. I know we were.

A friend of the owner stops by on a fairly regular basis. We remember names, and talk about various things on the spectrum–from following your dreams to the oddity of office work to the frustrations of woodworking and(as of last night) hockey. I can safely say I have a brand new appreciation for the game. I grew up with a lifeline cross-stitched with sport; played soccer for years and years and yes I’m a bit of nerd about the time I put into it. But yes I love a good competitive(and fast) team sport.

I marvel at the concept of “containing.” On the defense, you can’t overthrow your hand; you cannot be greedy and rush the attack, the lunge, the cut into path. You have to give a little space(not too much), and tighten down the eyes, keep the body cranked down on a spring whistled tight into itself–be ready to switch that energy from stagnant to go. Start reading moves. You have to contain.If you pay attention, you’ll start seeing a bit of this everywhere, in everything.

Other highlight from the night–meeting a lady drinking Guinness. We talked about writing and the Blue Moon betties and she cracked me up to no end. And we know the same people. Small city, get into my pocket.

I’d write more, but it’s time to catch that bus to work.

A funny little Sunday. I went to the coffee shop to do some writing but something in me wanted to converse with people instead. I’ve had a weekend full of amazing people and company and I wanted to continue that beautiful trend. After an hour of turning the sidewalk into somewhat of a meet & greet living room scene, I packed up my stuff and started walking back home. Heard my name being shouted from an outdoor table at the Pleasure Bar right when I was crossing the street. I made a U-turn in the middle of the intersection and took a seat with Vanessa and Becca. A brief hello turned into a couple hours of in depth conversation, which was far from expected. I love when conversation becomes so much more, and I definitely had some of that today. Once again I’m left with the BIG question–a question that keeps popping up and presenting itself to me in a yes you should definitely do that sort of way. Do you follow the heart and risk what feels like everything? All signs are pointing to yes. What else am I to do with the oppurtunity I am given–to live and explore, to experience, to do what I love and be challenged by it; introduce jackhammer to aorta and plunge that thunder in.

Sometimes I worry that I lack the necessary courage, but let’s go with the ultimate truth here: the courage, the work, the drive, the heart, the love: this is all that I am, and all that I have. To not just know that, but to believe it, and to not just believe it, but to pull everything I do through that sieve. A no brainer. A go get ‘em. A never leave yourself behind belief. Going forward, that’s all there is to it.

little elbows & mischief mouths      all so lucky oh so lucky 

So, my long weekend home…a great weekend indeed. I hopped on the 12:10am Greyhound on Thursday night, after seeing The Roots for free at CMU. I figured I could sleep my way to Ohio, but oh how soon we forget the discomfort of the G-hound seats. I tossed, turned, bent into a pretzel and still could not get to sleep. My dad picked up a groggy mess at 6:00am, and I fell asleep sitting upright in his truck. Before finally crashing 20 minutes later, I chewed through 3 McDonald’s hash browns with my eyes closed. Hungry, but too tired to do more than masticate and swallow.

Friday
Dead to the world until noon. Dad kept coming in and saying “get up! Get up!” I held onto the slumber as long as I could. We ran some errands/did some shopping with Summer and Maddie, followed by an old school sibling moment in the Hobby Lobby, while perusing items for Maddie’s birthday party. We couldn’t find cheesy birthday hats so we settled for equally awkward and awful foam hot pink visors. Couple this with puffy paint and you have magic. We were quite entertained by this. My dad, on the other hand, was ready to go home after milling around the Hobby Lobby aisles, waiting for us to stop giggling and get on with it. I adore my sister so much. We have the silliest time together with the most random things and inside jokes. Later that night, we made white chocolate/dark chocolate covered strawberries, and Summer properly schooled me on “the perfect strawberry.” The kitchen is a mighty good place for conversation—I miss talking to her so much.

Saturday
The main event! A birthday party for a little sweetie turning one. Close family and friends only. My niece tinkered with the slice of cake before realizing how much she loved the sound of it squishing between her fingers. Sooner than later we had a baby with cake in her hair, on her chest, and properly between each digit. I loved our small gathering of family, just watching in awe as this little lady figured out the world in front of her. It’s really interesting to watch small children start to process things.

So so much food…we were all a bit “whaled out” on the couches after that. Rob and Andrea show up—Andrea is pregnant with a little girl. Kyle brought the gift of Rock Band, which I’ve never played before. He had way too many Boston songs on there, but I found it endearing. I think I prefer drums to all the other instruments, although wielding the mic has its perks. None of them are really real(I’m sure I burst a bubble or two there..) At one point, my sister went outside on the porch to see just how loud we were rocking out—by the expansion of her eyes within seconds I would say we were loud enough for the neighbors to enjoy. Maddie loved it and could not stop dancing.

Later on, I met up with Lloyd and Tosha and we went to Wu-Steve’s house. I love my minutes of reuniting with Steve. I can’t believe that we have known each other for 10 years now. Still has the best sense of humor, the best laugh, and the cutest little place. We did the bullshit thing for a while and played some obnoxiously violent video game. Another Steve came over and we talked a bit about performing, promoting, and the frustrations and glories of both. Alex appeared with his amazing shirt. I had to cut out around midnight while the rest of the crew moved on to the bar. Hugs galore, and back to my dad’s house.

Sunday
Shindig numero dos. This time at my aunt’s house. Cousins out the wazoo. Everyone with kids, except me. I realize that I am the odd man out, and start to feel the first shakes of bass from the biological clock tick. I guess I’m at the age to get hounded about it. Also, in a smaller town, the norm is to meet someone, settle down, have children. Currently I am at a different place—here in the 412 it is more the norm to be in your mid-20’s and not be married, not have kids. I understand and respect both, and I’m not sure what it was about the event that upset me so much, but I had a hard time. I kept eating shrimp(that wasn’t a difficult part, haha). I must have put away 70-something shrimp. I felt very out of place. I’m sure some of this was worked up in my own head, but I didn’t feel like I was a part of things going on, and I left feeling a bit deflated. Plus one contact ripped so I had one good eye. I tried to nap it off and ended up crying/venting on the phone a bit—which really helped me put things into perspective. Sometimes all you can do is find a way to get it out. I also needed distance/perspective on the event to really see it for what it was. Some members of my extended family may not understand me, or even know me, but they are still my family; I suppose that is what makes it difficult in my mind. I feel like I am in a state of constant reminding: it’s okay if someone doesn’t get it; it’s okay to NOT point it out; it’s okay to get upset; it’s okay to be the odd sheep at the age of twenty-six. It can be quite overwhelming when an extended family member, who you never really see or talk to on a regular basis, asks you what you have been up to, or what’s going on in your life. Where do I begin? What do you want to hear? What will you understand? All questions that go through my mind.

Monday
Not a daggone thing. My dad and I went to lunch with my sister, which meant we had to meet her at work aka the elementary school. This is the elementary school that we both attended in our youth, mind you. The place still smells as I remember it, which is so funny and endearing to me. Then, off to the Greyhound station in Dayton, where my dad and I waited for the bus that was 2 hours behind schedule. Oh Greyhound, you never disappoint with your disappointing ways. In Columbus, our bus driver didn’t seem to know how to put the bus in reverse, which worried the man in front of me. I met a trucker from Jersey who had dropped off his rig in Utah, and a man riding the bus to NYC because he couldn’t afford the train ticket after going for bust in Las Vegas a few days prior. Always some interesting, animated ones.

That’s the long/short of it. Lots of internalizing, lots of belly laughs, lots of old and new sites to see and remember. I could say much more on the trip as a whole, but I think I’ll leave it at that.

By the kiss of your carcass’d memory, half realized. The other splint of me will not ruin its current grip on this—the now, the part still being digested. My city just found you. Every alley ends up stinking. We were no exception to this rule. Just as an inhale forgets a certain scent, the carpet over time will lose my footprints. We indent moments, do not receive medals for it. Anyone with an ache can cry over this.

And no to my undoing, so let it be done. How one gets to where standing is not near the beginning of what I have to say. These stupid hearts. We let them talk to birds. True fools do not need audience to follow through with acts. A wise man lets a crowd eat dirt and applaud the taste; oh earth you in my teeth dusting up gums. Add no to this equation. Hems of you unraveled, the better to make good of scrap metal gone soft. Give guitar good battle. Hum an incline into the hand thumping a thigh, while there are more summers to go. A good measured bass I hold you and nothing; I stalk big and nothing; to bump shoulders with the past and nothing; to be never what you think. Actions that bleed through the paper, onto the desk. What have you lost for me lately?

Arms lose sight of duty, become just things to swing. Tundra thunder reflexes, drum stick ticks pretty, keeps a beat. I had a page of you quiet, barely a margin to speak of and covers to cling the warmth of day to. The hope that stands on head, neglect feet. There is a part that prays for danger, to know the wrist that pushes food to us, who leashes our lips into cyclone drifts of speak. My dear space junk I fall for it. Dancing for a heat that has nowhere to go—the gutters remember, the tongue tethers string. A gnarled me gone, crushing up pastimes like pills into dust a shrug could knock away, and does. Anthems of this mouth on cage, your middle ladder let me climb. The conversations on tape, the shit that happens and proves nothing, the characters slid into, a little better our shadows to the thumbs of trees, to the garage we said goodbye in, to the banisters for rot then replaced. You and your grass. Some options just stand to be looked around.

In the gas station of my hometown I heard my name and hesitated with turning around—we are always in a state to be seen. My hands were full. An old friend. The rum still in his eyes while we do the collapseable hug and keep moving. To class be you, to travel be me. I have a moment to say, I used to be this place. You cannot really lie about where you come from. You cannot hide a foundation behind your back, cannot twist your way east and call it for good. There is a little spit left in the instrument that you can do no more than smell. I recognize this little path for I wore it into existence. I turned your headlights dead.

when they all drop in at 2:21? brilliant.

and charles bissell (from the wrens) solo:

he did a fantastic solo show at modern formations, 3 years ago i think.

Yawn and kick and stretch.

I have returned from my wee vacation away from the city life. I’d love to go into detail about my trip, but I didn’t get off the Greyhound until just before midnight last night, and I’m still quite fuzzy around the edges today. Plus, I need a day or two to take it all in, process some things. I had the best trip home that I’ve had in quite some time. What a nice change from the last visit—which involved way too many tears and moments of feeling sorry for myself.

Perhaps the entire thing can be summed up in a moment that repeated itself multiple times this weekend. My niece Maddie is walking, but she is still quite unsteady. Imagine the tiniest drunken sailor with a smile and hands up, stumbling forward with a determination and caution combination that is unlike anything else in this world to witness. I let her hold onto the fingers of my hand as she made her way to wherever she wanted to go. I felt privileged and humbled to be a part of her little journey. My heart wanted to explode for that little lady. I didn’t want to let her hand go.

I will do my best to give a full update on my trip back home soon. For now the moments require a bit of privacy in my own head to fully appreciate and process.

“Boneshaker” by Jan Beatty is blowing my mind right now, and I just started reading it today.

Coming soon to 2 eyes near me….well, to the ones on my face:

Lasik. Word.

A saving grace for the 8 hour work day: music. Headphones. Plug in, plug away, tune out.

My dear friend Katie passed pandora.com along to me and internet radio has never been the same. You create stations based on a specific artist or song. The station plays this certain artist now and then on the station, and matched like sounds fairly well. And it’s free. Highly recommended.

Today I punched in Boys II Men and let the sweet sounds of old school r&b take me away. Let me just say, I will enjoy this music until the day I die. There is nothing like harmony and finger snaps, songs about love and style to no end.

My big middle school aspiration was to be in a Boys II Men video. I also wanted to be in a Nine Inch Nails video after seeing the one for “Wish” in sixth grade but that’s a different story.

We used to listen to Brian McKnight, Babyface, Shai, Silk. Oh the days.

And who can forget, “Lately” by Jodeci: