Moment to Moment

I'm a big fan of gadgets. Once a friend of mine was criticizing a guy who was over excited about their iphone and I had to stop her. "I LOVE iphones..." I kind-of blurted. She was really tearing into him too. I know that technology scares a lot of people. The truth is it scares me too but iphones are Awesome. (Note the capitalization.) There are some things that shouldn't be meddled with though. Like vacuum cleaners... My mother got one a few years ago. She called it Robby. "Robby the Rowbit" is how she said it. I found it a little unsettling. I went on-line and googled robots. Oh boy. There are dancing robots and there are robots that can talk... there are also robots fighting part of our war right now. There are also robots that make it harder for me to catch my train. I can't tell you how many times I was running for a train when I was home and I had to stop, put my money into one rowbit just so it'll gimme a card to slide into another rowbit. A time-wasting tag team.


"The Kings of Leon" kick a lot of ass. I never thought I'd say or type the second half of that last phrase but... now I've gone and done it. Never before have I really listened to any album and thought, "I feel like, somehow, they're talking about my life." These guys provoke that reaction. I feel silly for the thought because I'm not 17. (I've never felt 17. Not even when I was 17.) Eternally 12 but never 17. Maybe it's because they're a band that's also a family and my job is working with my brother. If you can call it work. It's more of a calling and we're pretty lazy. Little or no work. Hopefully, this is the year all of that changes. Perhaps it's just because they rock!

There's a place, up North, called The Lakes Region. Winnipesaukee to be exact. I'm pretty sure a piece of my heart is buried there. There are always things that'll flash through my mind, out of nowhere, that mean very little to me. Mostly it's stuff from movies, or something somebody said, or a short lyric from a song... and very rarely does a place pop into my head. However there is one, randomly, that seems to jump out of nowhere. The Lakes Region in New Hampshire. Places with names like Meredith, Laconia, Winnisquam, Wolfeboro, Moltonborough, and Gilford illicit a pang deep in my soul. I feel like I'm always heading back there. On a frozen night when it'll take forever for the heat to warm up the summer house or on a hot day with all of the car windows rolled down. In both instances I'm driving, smiling, and happy but the very thought of it fills me with longing. For good times gone and memories forgotten. Besides, the Kellerhaus probably wouldn't be open when I got there anyways.

Sometimes I wish I could appreciate "the moment" more. There was one moment I completely appreciated recently. My brother and I were hanging out at an infinitely cool place called The Farmer's Market in Los Angeles. It's right next to an outdoor mall that masquerades as cool but doesn't come close, called "The Grove." Every time I go to The Farmer's Market I wonder why I don't go there more. It's got all kinds of great stuff. Especially character. The other night we were planning on seeing "Defiance" at the movie theater next door, at "The Grove", had a a couple hours to kill, and Davey wanted a treat. So, we went to peruse the stores in The Market while there we ran across a full on Country ho-down. I also spotted a creperie which always seems to go unnoticed and I don't know if I'll let that happen any more... I had to order a waffle with strawberries on it. I'm pretty sure it's my new favorite food. It was amazing. So much so that while I was eating I said, loud enough for everyone to hear "this is the best decision I've made in a while!"

There are some moments, though, that you wish you weren't in. I don't know if this qualifies but my brother and I were riding our bikes home from a show the other night on Sunset Blvd. when we were stopped at a red light, not several blocks from our house. While stopped at the light a man was crossing the street with a bandage on his head. He was dressed like a normal person. (The inverse of this would be a maniac, a crazy, or a street person.) As he got closer and eventually passed right by us we could see that he was openly bleeding while he looked at us furtively. Moving steadily and at a good clip for someone with a major head injury. Now, at this point, you may ask, "but didn't you try to help him?" And my answer to you good sir/ good mam is that he was a serious looking individual and he didn't ask for any... We watched him move past and then my brother thought aloud, "How do we know he's not filming a movie down the street? This is Hollywood."

Good Day, Good Year good people,
-Chris

A Short Winter Journey

The other night, as I made my way to the local liquor store, I found myself walking solo through the streets of the town I grew up in. Strolling through the tail end of a snowstorm, the streets near desolate. I bundled up before I left my house and just as I stepped out the door I put the buds of an iPod in my ears. I guess I always feel the need to supply a soundtrack whenever I step into the outside world. But when I got outside the wind was whipping the snow up and down the streets and through my wool jacket, as if it were a sieve, I could hear the quiet susurration of the snow and I was caught. Wrapped up in the cold snowy blanket of my town.

The streets were plowed but not as well as they should have been. It's a good thing I brought home boots. It's also a good thing that it was only one week from Christmas. I was covered in new, warm gear. (Even though I spend eleven of my months in Los Angeles. Don't think I don't appreciate it.) As I made my way up the hill next to my house I thought I'll turn the iPod on later. The world was so great, perfect in fact. Later, while recounting my journey to a friend, I thought about why I love the snow. Mainly it muffles the everyday sounds I hear. The mechanical, the urban, the modern noise sound pollution.

So many nights I'd be in bed at 51 Sullivan Street, wide awake and dreaming. Wondering if someday I'd end up in another bed -in a completely different place- an alternate reality in some other universe and I'd sit and listen through my walls and windows. Opening my ears* to the night sky. Almost always the first thing I'd hear would be 93. The major highway that's about a mile from where we live, heading to points North and South. I'd lay in bed and think about the truckers on the long haul or the motorcycle guy racing through traffic. Maybe I'd hear the docks and the banging of heavy equipment. The beep, beep of something backing up near the waterfront. Farther away, closer to my imagination, people yelling about important cargo. Maybe a plane inching across the Heavens, far above my bed.

On New Years Eve as I walked up the street, on a solo quest for spirits**, I made way through a quiet night with the whipping wind as my guide. The crunching of snow my only conversation... I never did turn on my iPod.

Love,
Chris




(*My heart breaks every time I look at my eyeglass prescription and see those negative sixes but if blind people's other senses are enhanced, then my negative six has to count for something right?)

(**I certainly did get really wrecked that night, though. Had a great time doing so. Just in case you're wondering.)