The Treehouse

I'm putting myself up for adoption.
Want me?

Funny how bad news can turn into good news when it's first presented as terrible news and is later upgraded to just bad. The results from Dad's cat scan today tell us that his cancer is confined to one spot, which will be removed very soon by surgery, and within a few weeks, we'll all be walking away from this earthquake with nothing worse than a little scar on Dad's belly. No casualties whatsoever, and I'll be heading back to Cork in no time. Not in time for the jazz fest, but certainly in time for Christmas.
My dad's gonna be ok, it's a good day.

I've always been Daddy's little boy.
Holding one end of the 2x4 while he feeds it through the table saw, handing him the appropriate drill bit and screws, walking over to the whatever with him to see if newly constructed part A fits with existing part B (just sorta looking at everything while dad goes "hm" and "hm" and moves something slightly and then goes "hm" again.)... Then back to the work station again for some adjustments. He never actually tells me what's going on. I'm just supposed to observe and figure it all out. And he never actually teaches me how to use any of the tools, but I get the feeling that he expects me to know what to do with them if the time ever comes that I'd need to. It's not as if those things are earmarked for John in a time of passing on. So, boring as it was, that was my afternoon today. Daddy's little boy at work in the yard.

"Hey dad, look! A hot air balloon!"... He says, "You wanna chase it?"
It finally landed in some farmer's smelly field East of Vincentown, across from some cows and a house full of cats. Dad took the crown line and stretched it out across the field. I stayed back with the pilot and his two crewmembers, helping bundle the envelope to get all the air out. I said, "So where did you take off from?" Delran.. They were doing 27 knots at 6,000 feet. "No kidding. We chased you all the way from Cinnaminson!"... The pilot remarked that there used to be a great hot air balloonist in Cinnaminson about 20 years ago, flew a big yellow balloon, wondered where he ever got to. "You mean John Burns?" I asked. Yup. "He's over there holding your crown line now."
Living legend.

The passing of a giant.... Just received news that Derek Bell, the harper and dulcimer player of the Chieftains, has passed away, in the US, no less. It was less than 6 months ago that his letter arrived at the house on Highfield West. A cheerful missive, full of doodles and anecdotes, simply expressing his regrets: he wouldn't be at the First Annual Cork Dulcimer Festival because he'd be on tour during that time in the United States. He was glad to know that such an event would be taking place in Cork, rounding up all the dulcimer players in Ireland for the first time. Derek wrote about the beauty and versatility of the instrument, and remarked that it's an instrument he'd like to hear more of. Sadly, Ireland now has one less dulcimer player... Goodbye to a truly outstanding musician, and an unforgettable character in the world of traditional Irish music.

Take an old friend, bring her to the old town, drive around the old streets, and visit all the ol' regular folks, and what you find out is that nothing, and I'm telling you, nothing ever changes. Right now, Angie (having just fixed her hair and makeup) is out cavorting with old flame, Ed, and I'm here alone at home messin' around on the computer. As always, she has managed to turn the evening into her own, staking claim to the house, a pair of my pajama bottoms, and a bed. She might wander in at whatever hour, and despite the fact that I'll probably be sleeping, she'll wake me up to tell me all about Ed as if I care. Just amazing what memories come back when we're together, along with these bitter bitter feelings that come with that sidekick role I've always played around her. I wonder what ol' Brian Collins is up to tonight... Don't have a clue of how to find him.

Time on my hands. Doc says more surgery and more time in the states. Looks like I'll be spending the better part of november here, part of it with a sore ass, and likely part of it just twiddling thumbs and wondering what's going on in Cork. With boredom and frustration like this, I really can't be having various ex-whatevers calling me up every day saying, "hey, wanna, uh, do something?" Screw that! This woman needs a plan. I'm no longer initiating exciting evenings out, no longer entertaining my equally bored companions. No Sir. I'm ready to be entertained, treated, wined, dined. I want projects, arts and crafts, music, dancing, sports. Not sitting and talking about life. (I don't have one to talk about.) I think I need to go downstairs and make some mix tapes for some folks.

Life out of context. What a great place to be. Tonight, upstairs at the Troc, groovin' to some monster thrashy jams from Teos, compliments of the highly respectable heavy-metal ex. I'm pretty damn happy to have one of those, actually. It's true that I've never been involved romantically with anyone I could play music with, but if you take a quick glance into my past, you get to see all sorts of nifty entertainers. This Adam is one of them. Your metal crowd didn't intimidate me nearly as much as I thought it would, and the show was far more enjoyable than I expected it to be. So all in all, a great night.
Interesting enough on the way out of the parking garage (now here's a place you don't expect interesting things to happen)... The dude taking my money (Brian's money, actually) is all making conversation with me, and so me being me, I'm going along with it. He's all, "Do you like African music?" Sure. Turns out he's from Mali. And I'm all, "So what are you doing HERE?" and he's all, "I like America". Cool, man. Yeah, I think I do too.
Pics from Christie's first metal show

Hi Adam.
So nice to know a dork like you is lurking 'round the 'house here. I'm sure digging this new album. HH&H I had a pretty fun time at the antihoot yesterday. Ya suppose Tim Dark all the way from Queens was sent by God? Don't worry, I'll learn another song before I see you again. Rock out on your tour. I'll see what I can do about getting you a lesbian following in Ireland. Won't be easy, but you're worth it.
Now cheers to you, Butch, for one great night of Portugese and the best cup of "oh shit is it morning already?" coffee I've had in a long time.

I'm sitting on the floor of Butch's bedroom now, playing with a Mac iBook that could potentially belong to me for the low low price of $450. I'm really not sure if this is something I want/need. A computer would be a handy thing... Hm.. thinking...
No way! This thing doesn't have any way for me to plug my minidisc player into it. Forget it. Back to the drawing board.
In other news, I received a marvelous little package from Dan Cantrell today. He's officially my person of the day. Thanks for the cds and the photos! Hey Dan, we should hang out sometime. ;)

This post is a bit late in the typing, since the weekend is what I'm talking about and it's now tuesday. Friday I went from doctor's appointment to lunch with Lella B, to Rancocas to collect Steve Carty, to Manhattan, where we met Aaron and found out that I'd made a mixup with the dates of the mbira concert we were all aiming to see. Ended up heading back to Brooklyn so Aaron and I could work on some music together. I don't know if we did anything truly worthwhile, but I certainly learned a thing or two, and breakfast was delicious. And just as before, I'm really looking forward to my next meeting with Aaron...What a beautiful person...
Saturday went like this: Steve and I went to another part of Brooklyn after breakfast, saw Brad Shank back from the dead (and very alive!), got to play his mbira, which felt SO good.. Then a bit o' cruisin' around Manhattan. Got to go to Central Park, saw the Guggenheim, various this & that, and eventually planted ourselves again in Soho for dinner and the actual concert. The concert was great (Cosmas and Beuler both playing mbira) and after that, we managed to sneak a quick visit to Chris Provenzano, he gave me some lovely Venitian glass beads (what's with all the beads this weekend?) and then we were off back to Jersey, quite fulfilled after a grand time in a grand town. I really dig that town.

You know how some situations turn out completely opposite of what you expected them to be? Well who'd'a guessed that Christie and Kristi would have hit it off quite so well tonight in Annapolis. I went, expecting to make some pleasant conversation while the two Johnnies caught up on old times... Turned out as though the girls were the ones having the grand reunion! Smashing crabs, talking beads, ah-ing over photos of Irish landscapes. Great craic altogether! I'm looking forward to seeing her again, and I hope we have time for a beading lesson. Oh, and if Eric's there too, that'll be cool. I tell ya, I never saw this one coming... And I'm sure I'm not the only one pleasantly surprised this evening.

Speeding 55 mph northbound towards a four-way stop sign at ten minutes to one in the morning, I think to myself, there's no one coming. I can see that no one's coming. And then I slow to a stop, just to make sure that there isn't some other wayward 22-year-old in their daddy's east or westbound buick, thinking the exact same thing. I don't know why my mother sits at home worrying about me so much, when I'm out there just livin' as cautiously as the next chump.
I keep meetin' up with these grounded hitchhikers. Folks with the most amazing stories about going places, who don't seem to be gettin' anywhere. And can anyone out there tell me what's up with people who don't get along with their parents but insist on living at home? I really don't get that. You can tell I've been hanging out in suburbia too long. I'm analyzing it way more than is good for any one person. I seem to have skipped most of the rant and gone straight to the apologies. Eh, too bad.