11/30/04: all in all...

All in all it's just another brick in the wall...

I spent from Wednesday night to Sunday night at my folks' house up in Jersey for Thanksgiving, and to see my dad who just had hip replacement surgery. The surgery was a great success, he's home now, and has a physical therapist coming to the house. He's walking with just a cane and is already talking about getting the other hip done. He had some troublesome side effects from the anesthesia, but he's finally through that and feeling much better. Thanks for all the calls and love! Thanksgiving at my brother's rocked, dinner was yummy, and seeing everyone was terrific. It wasn't the same without my dad at the dinnertable, but knowing how many of my friends have lost their fathers, I know how lucky I am to know he was just close by.

I had the great pleasure of hanging out with Steve on Friday night-- he came over after dinner and we sat in my kitchen for 7 hours, just BS-ing until the wee hours of the morning, letting our OCD get the best of us as we labored to cut a tray of brownies so it would be a right-angle.

On Saturday, Darren, Sharon and Alex, plus Durk, Daphne and Thandie went over to Jeff and Mindy's, and I joined them all. Andy/Daphne and Darren/Sharon are new parents, so it was neat hearing their perspective on things, compared to Mindy who is now a pro at this-- she's on her third with my sweetie Emily. It was awesome to catch up with Durk and Darren-- they, with my brother, were my original "collective" of musicians. Need a guitarist? Call Darren. Need a piano player? Durk's your guy. Need a saxophone? Call Jeff. Need a singer? Jill can help. There were a bunch of others in the collective as well, and I'm so lucky to have found and been adopted by another absolutely amazing collective of musicians in Delaware.

My dad said to me the other day, "I didn't know The Wall was about the Berlin Wall."   I said, "It's not."  He said, "But I heard that the music was used when they tore the Berlin Wall down."  And I should have said, "Well, Nike used the Beatles' Revolution to sell sneakers," but I didn't. :-)   I told him the album is about this guy, Pink, who goes through a lot of stuff -- some circumstantial and some self-inflicted -- and he copes with it by building this giant wall around himself, shutting out the important people and essentially destroying himself. In the end he has a breakdown which results in this figurative wall being torn down, where he's left standing amidst the rubble of his psyche, alone and exposed. I think the show ends with great hope.


We had a vocals-only rehearsal for The Wall last night over at Lee's house, which used to be Mosk's old house. It's so funny to be in that same house but to have different furniture in it, and to have the glasses and dishes in different cabinets. :-)   Anyhoo, Matt is taking over for SteveWe for these two shows, as SteveWe's life is just too hectic right now. I miss SteveWe very much, but Matt is rocking the house and is also such a total delight to sing with. I'm trying to convince Trainor to get Weatherman to come back on the Saturday night show (since SteveWe's busy Friday night) to sing Money - because Matt plays the sax on that tune and can't sing it with me and Gen, and those sexy-arse chromatically descending minor triads (ranh!) under "new car, caviar..." just really need that bottom chord member. Plus, SteveWe's an honorary member of the collective, and we gotta give that boy his propz.

I am so excited that The Ninja is coming out to see the show, I could throw up. (That's a good throw up.) Whenever I think about it I get all bouncy-happy. I can't wait for him to see me doing what I love so much, I can't wait for him to meet/re-meet mah peepz, and for some reason I can't wait to drive by his old place with him. I'm not sure why, but I am. It still spooks me out a little when I see his old apartment light on. Obviously there's a new tenant in there, but it's still a little crazy-go-nuts.

It's funny. When we left Bellefonte on June 17th for the drive to get him out west, we hastily threw one final load of his stuff into my apartment-- this was stuff that was too good to throw away, but not important enough to take to San Francisco. He walked out to the car ahead of me and I locked up my place. I remember thinking very clearly: "When I get home in 10 days, I am going to feel very displaced. I won't have John anymore, but I'll have his vacuum cleaner."   As I shut the door behind me, I watched him walk out to the sidewalk and I struggled to memorize that moment: what it smelled like, how the air felt, how he looked walking in front of my apartment with the long rays of the nearly-set sun; how it felt to look at that person and know we were connected, and to feel the clock counting down those final moments. I tried to memorize his John-esque swagger and his aura, because I knew I'd never see it again in this place; and in 10 days, I'd never see it again, ever.

(I'm getting misty just typing this.   What a fairy.)

I mean, uh, it's just my allergies! Yeah! Damn mold spores...


Obviously, I'm so happy things turned out differently.


In other news, Joe Trainor needs to be the subject of extensive scientific research. The dude is frikkin' amazing: He eats like crap (at least what I've seen anyway), he drinks nothing but Pepsi (and about 23876 bottles of it a day) and he smokes. Yet he's hardly ever sick, he's always sharp as a tack, his voice is always spectacular, he never has a zit, and he's got about 6% body fat. And we can't say that he's just one of those naturally thin guys, because he's shown me pictures when he was a bigger boy from about 10 years ago... so he's got it in him. HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?   I expect a full report on my desk by 9:00am tomorrow morning.  Chop chop.

In the last bit o' news, today I got my ITIL certificate in the mail. I passed my test! Yay!   This earns me a seat in the park and a kick in the pants. (I should ask for a raise. Ya know, after three weeks, it's time for a raise, by cracky!)

Wait, that isn't the last bit o' news- HA! This rocks!   The last bit o' news is that I just got off the phone with Joe and he's got the headcold sickness of doom. Ha! Love the irony! Touch it!

OK, bye now.