The Treehouse

Alright friends, I've been in Pottersville NJ since Tuesday morning, and I have had it up to HERE with the whole pseudo-parent thing. I've been babysitting my neice Mari, and it's enough to make me look at my sister with a goofy look and think, "how DO you do it?" A three-day ongoing power struggle with a 4-year-old, and she puts up a serious fight. I suppose I've had a few revelations about our society and the role that the wee ones play in it... I can buy how kids could make moms go nuts, but I don't buy dads who want nothing to do with it... There's at least enough joy to make it worth sticking around...

Wooooo Back from fest. Wowsers. Another fine weekend, 5 straight days with no shower, nothing but great music, great laughs, man these people are great. You shoulda been there, at the Front Porch, playing music till dawn, or how about those Bubbleheads and their old time tunes. It was fine dining at Summer Girls Summer Not, three meals a day prepared by our lovely chef, Shannon. Great to see the old friends again (the Atkinson clan, hippieboy, Tom "I've been promised a wife in Thailand" Durban, and the rest of you--)... The dulcimer was in excellent form, rippin' it up at the Azzoles and Club Ned. I think Butch and I (with the help of Opie and Maggie) may have finally achieved perfection on Whiskey Before Breakfast. I'm glad we did too, because it's definitely time to move on to bigger and better things. I think a few new doors have been opened... And guess who's going to Winfield in a few weeks! Whoa everybody look out!

I don't know WHY I just washed the car. It's only going to sit in a dirty, dusty farm field for the next six days. I'm going to fest, for whatever it may all be worth to me. Connect with all those once-a-year friends, play some once-a-year tunes, see what culinary miracles the lesbians will pull off this time... I must remember the sun screen and batteries for the flashlight, and a very special birthday gift for good ol' Tom. Hmm.. Looks like it's time for a trip down the toy aisle at Acme. :)

Writing from South Street, Philadelphia today, where I'm about to head out for some city-funded busking. I'm quite excited about that. Dropped Butch off at his tourguide job this morning, and making my way back to South St, I was thinking about how awesome it is to come into this city over and over and over again, throughout my whole life, and never see it the same way twice. Always seeing more things, and loving it more and more, eager to know it better. Butch has become a bit of an expert on Philadelphia history, a constant stream of facts and stories flowing from him as we cruise through town, or drink whiskey on the rooftop.. Fireworks over the river, William Penn just over my shoulder, shimmery mosaics on walls below... I don't know if it's possible to live in two cities at once, but it's my intention to find out.

Yazooo!!! Nevermind ocean metaphors. Sailing rocks. Thanks, pop, for taking me out twice in one week--perhaps even three if the weather behaves on Friday. So nice to be doing something and to have the thought, "gee, i hope I get to do this again"... Tomorrow I seek employment as a busker. I haven't learned. Next week, fest. Then showbusiness, then on to Winfield, I hope. A few weeks ago I was complaining that I hadn't really had a summer this summer. I guess I'm crammin' it all in now at the end! Crammin' in a whole lotta links too. Easier than typing.

Stories of forgiveness and stories of love. Here. What do you think of this? A metaphor for life that says we're all boats on the ocean, being tossed and tided, into harbours and back out into rough open seas, and we can say where and how we'd like to be, but the ocean doesn't care. Can I take a survey on that? What do we think? Cuz if that's feasible as a working metaphor for what we're all doing on this planet, I'd like to just say that it's mighty fine to be back in my boat again. Swimming was a stupid idea. Got me real tired, real fast. And man, I've got a LOT to do.

I've missed this. Writing, keeping track of my life, taking time to reflect. It's all flown out the window. And frankly, if I had wings, I'd've flown out the window myself. Hello to you, my loyal friends and friendly voyeurs, who've kept checking back to see when something interesting was going to happen in my life. Sadly, it's when things get interesting that the writing stops. I'd like to make some kind of effort now to get back on track. How terribly symbolic of the bigger picture of what's going on in Christieland these days. Just as well that I start writing now, because when all the wonderful stuff starts pouring in, I'm gonna want you all (and that includes YOU) to know about it. Greetings everyone, I have returned.