Boy Done Pondering
March 9, 2010 | 3 Comments
This looked easy.
Well, it’s just you.
And we know why you’re here and all.
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I sat in the woods for twelve hours yesterday. And I never felt better. But next time I’ll try it without the beer.
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Sugaring is a mindset. And I have downloaded it.
See:
1. Count.
2. Ponder.
3. Watch.
4. Re-count.
5. Re-ponder.
6. Re-watch.
Dude, I think I’ve got it.
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Today I became a student again. Yep, after dropping out of college with one course to go in 1986 (University of Iowa), I found myself sitting in a classroom once again today. But this time – today, that is – I was studying something far better than political science: post and beam construction.
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A man I once knew approached me today. He was nervous. He fidgeted more than I like to be around fidgeting, if you know what I mean. I think he was sweating, too, even though it wasn’t hot. Not even warm, in fact. But I can’t be sure. If he was sweating, that is. Because he made me too nervous watching him be so nervous that I lost track of who was watching whom be nervous.
“Tools,” he said, plaintively. “The secret is in the tools.”
Of course.
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This year’s best death-rock band is now featuring Jim Carroll, Vic Chesnutt and Mark Linkous (see Sparklehorse video below). As Carroll would sing, “ they were all my friends, and they died.” Musically speaking, they were. And they did. Damn it.
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And, for some reason, this song was going through my head all day long. No, make that: All. Day. Long:
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They said if you keep smiling while you say, “Vermont,” you could stay longer.
So many rules. But all in the name of: Self-love.
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Note to Deb Markowitz: That opening speech was dreadful. You seem more interested in being something that someone – or many someones – wants you to be. Worse, you’re apparently not very good at being that someone. So stop. And just be yourself.
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That’s all, folks.
It’s Sugaring Time
March 5, 2010 | 3 Comments
Sorry, life took over in that way only life can: completely and totally. And I gladly surrendered to it. Other than the under-employment, it’s all good – especially the sugaring project (see photos below).
These have been the days that will not be forgotten, a magical winter and an early spring spent with my daughter, Bel, as we seek to morph the needs of schooling with the pleasures of living and being.
Thanks for your patience.
Life in a Slushie
February 25, 2010 | 2 Comments
I was just thinking about you.
Or was it you?
I forget.
But it was the you who cradled me and spoke soothing words about the importance of sitting by the river and pitching stones as if tomorrow didn’t matter.
Well, I’ve been pitching stones until my arm hurts.
Fuck that.
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Just wondering: Why did President Obama give an equal opportunity to the minority party of obstructionists today to discuss health care?
If Obama really wanted to do something, why not use his majority status and PASS SOMETHING?
Just saying.
–
Between toweling off from chores in the unbearable wetness of yesterday’s snow and today’s rain, I did manage to tune into about 20 minutes of the Obama Health Care Summit. It reminded me of my days as a flower delivery boy in high school: The little dogs always barked louder and, worse, bit.
But, unlike Obama, I learned how to deal with the little dogs: Ignore and/or avoid them. Because they have nothing to prove but trying to prove themselves by injuring you.
Fuck that.
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There is no truth to the rumor that I’m running for the selectboard for the town of Worcester, Vermont. But if you write my name in, I’ll consider writing your name in for free mental health services. ‘Nuf said.
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I Make Lists (Part 2)
Remember:
1. To breathe.
2. To think pure thoughts.
3. To not ridicule the neighbor.
4. To smile when talked to.
5. To nod when necessary (read: always).
6. And to position myself for maximum pleasure.
Check: Mate.
–
Department of Updates: Maple Sugaring Adventure
The man with the maple sugaring expertise from the university walked with us to assess our desires to become producers. Wait, that sounds funny. Or is it just me? Whatever.
And at the end of the walk we had this exchange:
Maple Man: “You’ve got thousands of taps.”
Me: “So I’m not crazy?”
Maple Man: “Not at all.”
Me: “Wow, you’re the first person to ever say that.”
And now we’re married – in a maple production kind of way.
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Department of Updates: Of the Reality Kind
Big maple production will have to wait until next year since the season is now knocking at the door. But, for this year, the now certifiably-not-crazy Moike is prepared to launch a mini-sugaring adventure with 50 taps, a daughter, a horse called Big Jim, and some neighbors who – at least to my face – don’t think I’m crazy either (editor’s note: give them time.).
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You simply do not deserve more. But, please, tell me if I’m wrong. And make it juicy.
Good Day: Nuke Death
February 24, 2010 | 3 Comments
This is weird. Being on the “winning” side, that is.
For those of you not in Vermont today and half shoveling our first real snow storm of the year – yes, year – and half listening to the proceedings of the Vermont State Senate with regards to the legislation aimed at shutting down the Vermont Yankee nuclear power plant in 2012, let me explain: The forces to shut down the aging nuke plant are kicking ass and taking no prisoners.
And, sorry, that’s some rarified air to breathe in these calloused and cynical anti-nuke lungs of mine. Sure, there’s still time for the game to change and the forces of evil (read: nuclear Neanderthals and corporate pooper-scoopers) to throw their money around and change things but, for now, the sane side is winning!
As I write, the Vermont Senate is in a lunchtime recess after having defeated a dopey stalling motion by a margin of 24-6. The six ninnies who pushed the motion – including two Democrats (Mazza & Starr) – tried to gum up the works by declaring that they needed “more time” to study the nuclear plant and the proposals (read: bribes) flowing in from the facility’s owners, Entergy of Louisiana (read: The Gang Who Couldn’t Shoot Straight).
In this case, “more time” simply means, “more lies.” Because if Entergy can’t shoot straight when it comes to telling – or not telling, as the case was – the state about the existence of leaking radioactive pipes underground, how much more do you want to hear from them? My answer: Nothing. Well, other than the sound of their screeching tires as they head back south where, apparently, people fall for their nonsense (Disclaimer: I spent nearly ten years of my youth in Atlanta.).
But let’s get back to the winning thing. The 24-6 vote to kill the stalling maneuver is likely to be the same vote that we can expect from the next vote on the real issue at hand: To shut down Vermont Yankee on its originally scheduled shut-down date of 2012.
To the credit of Senate President Peter Shumlin (did you hear that, folks?), he’s pushing forward with the vote this afternoon. And while the cynics – like…well…me – could say that Shumlin’s playing politics by calling for the vote now to rally his liberal base in his quest to become Vermont’s next governor, I say: Whatever. Because, frankly, it’s politics. Duh. And, more importantly from the perspective of me, myself and I: It feels good to win – rare as it is in my snark-infested state of political being.
Pass the popcorn. This is fun.
Close Encounters of the Friday Kind
February 19, 2010 | Leave a Comment
Now that an American man – a Texan, no less! – has attacked a building with his plane, does it mean we’ll be declaring war on… ourselves? Or at least Texas?
Oh wait, would that get in the way of our Olympic cheering? Nevermind.
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Hello, my name is Moike and I’m in recovery. From tourists. Here is my job:
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I drove horse-drawn sleighs this week for hundreds of people from places that seem to be doing better economically than my neighborhood. So it was my job to try and even things out by charging them more than the rides were worth and then standing there like a Pavlovian dog salivating for a tip at each ride’s conclusion (Read: Robin Hood with no pride). We all smiled at the prospect of more commerce. They are conditioned to purchase experiences that are marked: joy. And I am in need of receiving cash for things marked: work. So we danced. Until, that is, the asses of the horses we collectively stared at decided to take gigantic, smelly draft-horse shits. Because then the equation changed, whereby I was joyful and they were laboring.
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Sleigh Ride Encounters of the Recent Kind #1:
“Look, Jackson, we’re at a farm!” called out the father figure, as he caught my eye while his last syllables dribbled out into the frosty Stowe air.
Jackson was his son, a boy of about six who – I learned moments later – had been requesting a trip to a Vermont farm.
“This has been his dream,” continued the father figure, this time directly engaging me, the sleigh driver. “And we did it. We made it come true!”
Poor Jackson. Because now he’ll always equate a tourists’ trap with a farm, perhaps permanently staining his understanding of the true agrarian ways.
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Sleigh Ride Encounters of the Recent Kind #2:
“I have a question,” called out the lady in the two-thousand dollar ski wardrobe and matching store-bought tan. “Where do you see the moose?”
I’ve learned that it’s better to hesitate when it comes to questions like these. Because my first reaction is never best when tips are in play.
“What do you mean?” I called out, as Mac and Jack the gray Percherons pulled us forward along the “wooded” path just a few hundred feet from the busy Mountain Road in Stowe.
“Well, we’ve been up here for three days,” the tanned-lady continued, “and we haven’t seen a moose yet. And we must have passed the moose-signs on the road a dozen times.”
Breathe, Moike. Breathe. And do not say: Moose don’t like tourists. Or: Moose avoid tourists traps. Or: Moose are scared of tans in February. Or: Come visit during moose-hunting season, when a moose can almost always be seen in the back of a Ford F-250.
Lesson: Thinking before speaking is important when tips are in the equation.
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I Make Lists
Cultural:
1.) Did you see?
2.) Did you hear?
3.) Did you watch?
4.) Did you listen?
Social:
1.) You’re invited.
2.) You’ve been bad.
3.) You are the best.
4.) You seem different.
Otherwise:
1.) I did it.
2.) I meant to do it.
3.) I felt good doing it.
4.) And I fully intend to do it again.
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Today I make this promise: If Cat Power will sing to me I will never worry about any of you again.
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Why is it that when I see Chris Graff I think of oatmeal? Or donkeys eating oatmeal? I think I need to get this checked.
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Oh yeah, one more thing: Thanks to Vermont’s Senate President, Peter Shumlin, for following the sage advice offered at this blog by using his authority to call for a vote on whether or not to extent the license of the Vermont Yankee nuclear power plant. See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? For him or for me. Now get it done.
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If they turned the coverage of Vermont politics into a television show I’m convinced they’d call it: Romper Room.
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It’s Friday, and I need to rock.
Try this:
Or this, just because it feels like a good Friday night intro:
AWOL (Or: What I have in Common with the Democrats)
February 12, 2010 | 3 Comments
Oops. I forgot about you. Yeah, you. And you. And you, too, the one hiding behind the cubicle hoping your boss doesn’t realize you’re visiting derelict sites during business hours. Pathetic.
I’ve been busy horsing around, homeschooling a child who has clearly bypassed my sass-ability, planning the new sugaring operation, and playing host to a mentor who had nowhere else to go (it’s a long story – each of them).
Oh yeah, I’ve also been finalizing my collection of Jerry Salinger (J.D. to you) stories. It’s taking me longer than I thought to merely pull together all the notes, notebooks and various correspondence that we shared over the last twenty years that we called each other “neighbors.” Jerry was odd that way. Distance wise, that is. But what we shared was, indeed, special, and I’m looking forward to pulling it all together and sharing it with you all soon. As Jerry would say, “Be patient.” I loved that about him.
As for politics, things look and feel quite the same: Republicans are retarded (thanks, Sarah, for allowing me to say that!). And Democrats are spineless (thanks, Democrats, for making it easy for me to say that!). Ho-fucking-hum.
Take Vermont, for example, where our nuclear power facility – the Vermont Yankee — is hemorrhaging radioactive tritium into the groundwater and the super-majority-Democrats are throwing pseudo-tough-talk around but avoiding any and all action. You know, kind of like Obama and health care.
My favorite little Democratic-fraud-of-the-moment is the leader of Vermont’s Senate, Peter Shumlin, a man who is also seeking to be our state’s next governor. As a candidate, Shumlin’s saying things like, “If there was a vote today on whether or not to extend the license of the Vermont Yankee I would vote ‘no.’” But as the president of the Vermont Senate, he’s refusing to do what he could do in a heartbeat: Call for the vote on whether or not to re-license the Vermont Yankee. Good fucking grief.
But the Democratic cheerleaders keep letting this dizzying cycle of nonsense continue and continue and continue. You know, the cycle that goes like this: Swoon to the rhetoric during campaign season and then shrug your shoulders when these same masters of false promises prove while governing that they were …well… full of shit. Think: Obama and health care/Guantanamo/stopping the wars, etc.
You’d think the saps who pull the Democratic lever every two or four years would have learned by now that they’re only getting their chains jerked in return. Can you say: Suckers. I knew you could.
But, let me be fair (wait, is this a first?). There’s one Vermont Democrat who deserves a shout-out for his good verbiage and commitment to the words he utters: Rep. Tony Klein of East Montpelier. As the chairman of the House Natural Resources and Energy Committee, Klein’s been kicking ass and taking no prisoners when it comes to his rubber hitting the road approach to Vermont Yankees’ malfeasance. Bravo to you, Mr. Klein, especially for this little gem of a quote in today’s Times Argus:
“The people who are in government, and part of their role is to protect the public…need to really start seriously thinking about doing their jobs and not worrying about what corporate America thinks.”
Did you hear that, Senator Shumlin? Call the vote. Now. Or shut up about it. Now.
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See, it’s much better when I play with horses.
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Speaking of horses, it’s off to Stowe for Valentine’s/President’s Day sleigh rides for me. I know, I know, when you think Valentine’s/President’s Day, you think: What can Colby offer me? What can I say, I have that affect on people. Not.
But, hopefully, I’ll fool enough tourists into thinking I really do care about their visit to Stowe. Long enough, that is, to shamelessly pocket that gracious tip. Can you say: No shame? I knew you could. Because while you’re saying that, I’m saying: Bills to pay.
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Thanks for playing.
Movie of the Week
February 9, 2010 | Leave a Comment
Super Bowl Sins
February 8, 2010 | 3 Comments
Holy shit, get me to church. I’m a believer! And I have sinned! Wash me of my sins – dear Breesus! – and make me whole again.
Okay, scratch the “shit” part. I’m fallible, you know. But I am ready for my Super Bowl redemption. And here are my Super Bowl sins (in no particular order):
* I bet against Breesus.
* I placed that bet with my father.
* Worse, I lost that bet to my father.
* I’ve contemplated sending him a check as payment along with a note from my daughter regarding the hardships she’ll be forced to endure IF he cashes the check that he rightfully earned. (Read: Manipulation.)
* I had inappropriate and economically-impossible desires for automobiles.
* I had unnecessary and health-threatening desires for Doritos.
* I pretended to understand commercials that I did not understand while in the presence of others.
* I had mean-spirited thoughts about the members of The Who for torturing the songs that are rightfully theirs.
* I had inappropriate thoughts about Breesus’ wife.
* I defended by inappropriate thoughts about Breesus’ wife with this logic: Breesus should not have a wife while saving the rest of us from our sins.
* I spent the time leading up to the Super Bowl reading my old copy of “The Catcher in the Rye.”
* While reading my circa 1982 copy of “The Catcher in the Rye,” I found that I had underlined this passage: “I’m the most terrific liar you ever saw in your life. It’s awful.”
* I did not go where I was invited to go.
* Worse, I did not appropriately notify those who thought I would be arriving at their parties.
* And, finally, I fully participated in the spectacle.
Like I said, “Save me Breesus, Save me!”
Super Bowl Warm-Up Exercises
February 3, 2010 | 4 Comments
First, your mind: Watch the movie, Big Fan. I saw it last night and loved it. It’s loaded with great dialogue and, as result, manages to stretch a rather simple tale into an engaging movie. Of particular note are the exchanges he has with his mother – priceless.
But study it carefully as you prepare to sit your ass in front of the Super Bowl for four hours this Sunday. Try to understand just how close you are to going over the edge with your sports addiction.
As for me, I got a little worried when I recognized the voice of the sports radio host in the movie. I used to listen to him on WFAN in New York City before they dumped him. But I can admit it. Ouch.
If, during your viewing of Big Fan, you do NOT have a moment when you tell yourself, “I need to stop following sports,” well, you’re in trouble. Thankfully, I can say that I DID have such a moment. But I’m not quite ready for the 10-step program. Certainly not before the Super Bowl and all.
Click here for the Big Fan trailer.
And if that doesn’t give you pause to seek help with your sports addiction, try this:
I’ll see you in rehab – after the big game, of course.
Oh yeah, go Colts. Mostly because I can’t stand all this “God is on the Saints side” shit. Because, if your God wanted to help New Orleans, I would hope she’d provide housing before a Super Bowl trophy. Just saying.
A Little Bit About Everything You Need to Know.
February 2, 2010 | 4 Comments
(Or: These Things, Episode #567)
When I skate I can’t stop thinking: Fractured elbow.
And my daughter likes to skate. So off we’ve gone to the Montpelier Municipal Pool – everyday. Someone’s got to do it.
We label it: Recess. And then it feels right. Well, it feels right for me. But, then again, I’m also the one only thinking about a fractured elbow.
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Bill Belichick of the New England Patriots was recently trying to lay down the law with his players regarding the use of modern communication devices (read: Facebook and Myspace). But he proved his dorkiness by spitting out these works instead: “I don’t want you on YourBook or MyFace.”
No problem, Bill.
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Watched last night: Broken Arrow. No, not the modern one with Ethan Hawke or some such nitwit, but the old one – circa 1960 – with Jimmy Stewart. Fabulous. Well, if you’re into old westerns and a not-so-veiled political message. Unlike the rest of the westerns at the time, Broken Arrow provides a much-needed alternative to the usual fare of “white man = good, red man = bad.”
I got the tip to see Broken Arrow from Louis Proyect (read his magnificent review here). Read the review. And then see the movie with this in mind: Iraq.
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These words are being produced on the influence of: Fugazi.
As in:
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Vermont Morning News: Senator Patrick Leahy has amassed a $2.6 million war chest to defend his senate seat this year (his opponent has $6,000). And our other senator, Bernie Sanders, just returned from a South Florida retreat with a resort-full of corporate lobbyists.
I see what you mean, “Vermont IS Different.”
/snark
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Last Sunday morning was made better by the presence of Patti Smith on the cover of the New York Times Book Review. Good morning, Patti. Better yet, it was my first clue to the fact that she’s got a new memoir out, “Just Kids.” Score.
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How fucking brilliant is it that the liberals called their absolutely dopey solution to gays in the military “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell”? Priceless. Because if “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” doesn’t perfectly portray the modern liberal mindset, I don’t know what could.
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Now put his on, turn it up, and enjoy the moment:
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But, before I go, let me put something to bed once and for all. I am NOT – under any circumstances – intending to publish the notes and diaries I’ve collected after nearly 20 years of regular meetings with J.D. Salinger. I am just not. Period. End of story.
Unless….
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We called him Jerry.
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But I’m still not talking.
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And boy could he open up. Blah, blah, blah – literary reference, literary reference — blah, blah.
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Holding firm. Not another peep from me…about all those years and meetings and trips and just plain good times I’ve shared with J.D. Salinger.
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I hope you understand.
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