Monday, June 30

What with going to my dad's soon I think I should do my crush list soon...

Here goes. All my love comin' out to ya.

10. Jordan Davis
9. Aaron Tieger
8. Mike County
7. Gerrit Lansing
6. Nick Piombino
5. Joel Sloman
4. Xtina
3. Mark Lamoureux
2. Chris Rizzo
1. Sam Cornish

As promised, the play-by-play of yesterday after the cafe....

I read on the train from Boston to Gloucester. Nothing much happened there except that for the first time in my life I saw kids working on the grafitti wall in Beverly. I always sit on that side of the train and make sure I am paying attention when we pass the wall. Lately it is mostly tags, not many pictures.

Got off the traina little past three and walked down School St. toward Fiesta. I walked past Steve Padre's house, but I couldn't remember exactly which house it was-- two next to eachother look very similar. I don't think he lives there anymore anyway. Stopped in at the bookstore and saw Patrick. Spent some time looking at a book of photographs from the 70's (the book I was reading on the train had just mentioned a march in Cambodia and I was interested in seeing pictures of Cambodia). I get into a sort of dream-state when I read on the train. It's like a time warp. Anyway, I wanted to keep it going. Ran into Gerrit and Beverly at the Bookstore as well.

I stopped at Cafe Sicilia to see if Franco was back, he wasn't. Went to Ambie's for a sausage. Used to go every year with my grandmother but this year alone was nice. What's-his-name Nicastro, maybe it's Dom, cut in front of me. Ambie's son was annoyed, but he is Ambie's nephew and the announcer for the greasy pole, so Ambie wanted to give him a sausage first. Sat on the curb next to Matt Bryant, who is now a vegetarian but remembers loving to geta sausage at fiesta. When he left I moved to the bleachers in the square. Finished my sausage and went to the beach for the seine boat races and greasy pole. Ended up standing next to Beverly and Gerrit. We watched the race together, but I felt my dreamy mood drifting away, so I started walking around the beach.

I ended up close to the water. This girl ina bikini was filming the greasy pole. She was a total hottie and before I knew it Greg Cook (no relation) was next to me, keeping an eye on the greasy pole and the girl. At first I admired her confidence, being able to be up there standing on a cooler in a bikini taping the thing, but I began to dislike her soon enough. She spit on the ground. She smoked and put her butt out int he sand, leaving it there. She talked on a cell phone loudly while filming. She got off the cooler and moved a father with his daughter on his shoulder. You might think I was obsessing in watching her, but the greasy pole went to five rounds and it is very very very long. There isn't much to do but watch people. And I was sort of hoping that this ideal of physical beauty would also be lovely in manner, I don't know, maybe just not so crass. I would feel less creeped out by the leering men if she remained lovely in my eyes.

Eventually Jake Wood (famous for winning all three days several years ago) got the flag. Greg and I didn't stay for the junior seine boat races. We went up for canoli and espresso at Cafe Sicilia. Franco was there with his new wife Heather. We sat and talked for a long time, then Greg had to get his film to the paper and write a story for today. I stepped into the Blackburn but theplace was packed with sailors and I didn't think I should stay there alone, just wasn't up for the hassle.

More later, my inlaws are here.

Sunday, June 29

Sunday will be into Union Square then back to Gloucester for me, there are saints to follow through streets and I'm just the girl to do it. I'm a little sunburnt from the Fiesta soccer match yesterday, but not so badly. The Kinvara was good, happy to see the lads and the lass (we had our Celtic Supporter appreciation party), got back into Gloucester on the last train and walked around as people either found their way home or got arrested trying. Looked for yuppies in the fort. I found a dog and a strong smell of fish....

Saturday, June 28

I've got 63 more years. In order to keep my optimistic view I'm only going to get news from equanimity. I've missed so much this week. I've been happy.

Joel sent me the loveliest email last night. I had meant to have a butterfly tatoo on my shoulder but I was wasn't wearing anything that showed my shoulder, so I didn't bother. How happy I was to get home and find that Joel was my butterfly!

I read what I wrote last night and decided not to fix any of the mistakes. Viva. Mark Weiss, there was not a yuppy there. I love Fiesta, but I'm glad it is not forever. I don't know how long I could keep it up.

Today we go to the Kinvara for some appreciation. First we will watch a Fiesta soccer match. How happy I will be! I should note that the birthday yesterday was for Jaime, treinte y tres. The guy who owns jalapenos. Played for some Costa Rican club as a youth. Same club as Roy Lassiter.

back from fiesta, a bit gone....
left at about two to hear the kids play some punk rock down at the basement of the u.u. church in gloucester. let me tell you- that nick telles (brother of mike) has rock in his veins. ryan alto looks just like his brother, shilo.

left there at five, sushi and PBR at the sunny day (an unholy but lovey combination). soaking wet from the rain and toasty from the speckled hen and whiskey at the blackburn, got back to the u.u. to find the band we wanted to see wan't up for some time. the kids are alright.

onto the beach for junior greasy pole and the first junior girl's seine boat races. met with tad and jane and aiden (so cute) and kari and greg... got some good gossip then up for more espresso (had gelato earlier) and anna at cafe sicilia puts on her favorite tape and sings in italian to me... then to the procession with candles and flags from the gentleman who was a a c milan fan but remembered me from the champions league final.... waled st. peter to the alter then listened to speaches, god bless the militellos.

back to the blackburn for another beer but nothing going on but bad blues about to begin, run away to house of mitch. tonight i know all the bouncers and don't get my id checked much. another beer at house of mitch, ignored by my half sister as i walked in, then left with ghetto superstar as our exot music. just james and greg and i by now.

on to the rigger, where i know the bouncer who is, in fact, the owner. put quarters down, get a heineken. play pool well (thought it would be an embarassment), lost, but was bequeathed the table 'cuz jason (the by i played) had to go to a birthday party at jalapeno's). ended up playing tyson davis (no shit- tyson who had a crush on me in eighth grade). was doing real well but crossed that line form good at pool to just plain drunk. i lost but convinced him we shuld play doubles from then out-- he and i against his friends, brothers from lynnfield. side note- tyson looks good now, ska-rific with cap and a charming gap in hos front teeth.

made a couple lovely shots in the next game, most sigificantly a combination where i got two balls in at once, three in the turn. got the dj to play sexy motherfucker and shattered 9he had no ramones or clash). stole a sailor's hat for a while, but gave it back before i left (those boys get into trouble if they come home without their hats.... stripes are nothing really, can be replaced for less than a dollar and don't mean any disciplinary action....). saw the sox were living it up....

got a slice at valentino's then the blackburn once more but say goodbye- time for sleep. here i am and although i was stuck in thunder and lightening and completely drenched in the rain it is still hotter than hell so i'm off for a swim before i go to bed.

goodnight, my loves.


Friday, June 27

Just talked to my boss. He assures me that talking to sailors is not research, so he won't pay me for it. He bets they would, though.

My signs came out pretty well. I need new brushes. Mine are just no good for lettering. One sign has little flowers along the edge, the other has a lobster, some fish, shells and little dots. I painted our address on the sign so hopefully nobody will take them, but people around here are constantly looking to own some of that folk like they can't find under the seats of their SUVs.

Somebody is working hard to regain his spot on the crush list....
Morning in the garden first thing, cutting back the rose bush. Today I could only cut back the branches that were shooting out without any promise of flowers but I know I have to get the bush under control or it will take over the whole yard. I can cut it back after it blooms, maybe get something in there to support it.

I'm painting signs for the parking lot... lots of little yacht club brats and squammies park there leaving no place for my grandfather and charlotte and us. I have green and yellow and red paint from my dollhouse (still not finished- I got it to do with my grandmother, who loved dollhouses, but she died and Amanda, who was revamping her childhood dollhouse, finished). Charlotte was happy about the potential rasta color scheme, but the shades are just off enough that it really doesn't look rastafarian at all.

Today I think I will put a temporary tattoo of a butterfly on my shoulder, just so I don't have to wait for that feeling.

Thursday, June 26

i spent the morning on the way to boston reading the unbearable lightness of being... put me in quite a mood, ripe for symbolism and beuty and betrayal... got through the first 120 pages or so before patrick (h, for clarification) met me... i was a bit sensitive, you know how i can be.... so when we bought our tickets from the scalper i couldn't let myslef get excited until we were actually in fenway...

our seats were bad, but not so bad, and we didn't stay there anyway... by that time i had had a nectarine, an iced coffee and a bunch of beer at the cask n flagon.... we moved to seats in the sun after the first half inning.... i can't tell you how happy i was to see pedro pitch... pedro, st. peter... my grandmother loved him, watched every game he pitched. by being there i felt like i was honoring her in some way, making up for accepting my grandfather's new wife... she thought pedro was so cute...

it was so hot sweat dripping and sun sun sun and sports bar and hot dog and beer and baseball god yes i love baseball. as people came to claim their seats we would move... ended up behind first base somewhere in the shade... after the game we walked to the t then smooshes til government center then to the irish embassy and magner's and a powers and guiness and magners and the bartender was from county claire a celtic supporter.

onto the train fell asleep til salem. woke up to talk about lanesville and fiesta and war with two guys, one who worked on an accelerator at mit the other was at the game then walk to fiesta after the train... stop at the bookstore, saw patrick d. met james who was tlking to oona who yes i know speaks german and is going to the new school and drunk enough not to be nice teacher's wife but a little demanding i'm sorry then to jalapeno's with kari and greg and patrick and ariane and james. margarita and burrito, talk and fun, then found out that a soccer player from camaroon dropped dead int he middle of a match...

james and kari and grag and i found ourselves at st. peter's club (only open this weekend to the public and new from selling the building and having the whole damned thing downstairs) where i saw p. and marylou and p. hates marylou.... i once saw p. lick another girl's breasts at the crow's nest and she happily married... and drinking bud when this sailor circles me.. takes a chair a few away and before i know it is up tapping me on the shoulder.... a good looking fellow in white uniform, u.s.s. boone i think. i tried to get hom to notice my ring when he was a ways off but his face dropped when i said i was a housewife... we left soonafter and home damn it's hot.

i'm off for a swim than to sleep. good luck babs on your exams. all my love. a

Wednesday, June 25

Best thing on Mr. Rogers today:

King Friday made a rule that no play was allowed ecause somebody had been hurt the day before while playing. His niece was talking to the owl in the tree who made a little rhyme. She said "Uh-oh. That's poetry, andI don't think that's allowed... poetry can be play, and so it's not allowed."
We were listening to a story on the radio this morning about Move On's online voting. I came up with the idea of Sim Election (after much joking about candidates competing in the move on election, trying to get the most mushrooms and stars).

James came up with Sim Poet. Think of all the choices!
Do you shake Pinsky's hand?
Keep your job at the cafe or try to become a waiter?
Revert to forms?
Denounce (insert theory of choice here)?
Go after that handsome poet with a great ear for internal rhyming?

The possibilities are endless.

Tuesday, June 24

"He dislocated his shoulder tearing up a telephone book after listening toa motivational speaker."

That has got to be the best thing I've heard while listening to a baseball game. Ever.
A long swim made me feel much better. It's funny. I was thinking of Joel early, and his close relationship with butterflies. I was thinking of crush lists and that 'butterfly on the shoulder' feeling of joy you can get when you have a really nice moment with someone, i.e. the crush of the day. I thought I might have one of those happy moments today. But no, I get a mean mailman moment. So it goes.

I did have a nice peach today. In Beverly Farms there is a little fruit market that sells fancy and local fruit. I got a white saturn peach. It wasshaped like a ring of Saturn. The first bite was brilliant-- juice everywhere. I guess you can't expect to have a good peach moment and a butterfly moment in the same day.

I got enough peas out of the garden for dinner, and a few radishes from the second crop. I could harvest the broccoli but I think I'll wait for tomorrow, when my nephew Andrew will be here.
I just had a perfectly nice day go horribly wrong. All because of the a very very very mean postman. I rushed out of work, even left things undone to get to the post office before they close the window at 4:45. I got down there at about 4:40. They guy (not the usual Lenny) started screaming at me. He yelled at me for about 5 minutes. Not light yelling, either. I did pretty well, held my own and even yelled back once or twice. Didn't cry til I got into the car. If he hadn't spent the time yelling at me he could have closed at 4:45, but with all the gesturing and yelling and hemming and hawing we didn't finish until 4:50. I know it sucks to have to stay later at work, but it wouldn't have been an issue if he had just stopped yelling the first time I apologized and we both would have gotten out of there on time.

So now I am having a beer and eating pickles to try to cheer myself up.
It's morning and Gata can't keep her paws off the keyboard. It looks sunny today. I hope I get to spend some time in the sun. I guess the best way to make sure would be to go do it before I even do anything else.

Monday, June 23

Pizza and toys and baseball and cake. Red Sox win. New blocks. Learned 'Happy Birthday' on the violin. My dad likes to hear me play and I like that. When he was still way out of it in the hospital after his transplant I used to sing to him. I never knew if he enjoyed it or even heard it. I always thought maybe it was more for my benefit, because it meant I was at least doing something. But since he likes to hear me play so much I may let myself think he liked my singing as well.
THAT is what real big kids do. Watch and learn, babies.
The guy that really swims. That's sweet. He's better than the drowning Rescue Hero.
New Transformer Rescue Heroes. Wow. The Fire in Field 13. Where Billy Blazes faces his childhood.
I'm at my Dad's. Noah is about to open his birthday presents. He's just started to open one before he should have and is doing his best to not show it. Daniel just claimed that my grandmother's name was in Hawaiian and that's why he couldn't read it. I'm going to watch now.
The sun is shining on the front porch. Tasso is sitting out there studying his lines. He's Puck this summer. The people who have been calling are nicer and that is making the day easier. I would love a cup of coffee, if anybody is driving through Lanesville right now.
I'm feeling a little surly here at work. I've got a bit of a headache and I'm a little lethargic. I hope it gets busier here this afternoon so I don't have time to think about being surly.
Gloucester will be waiting for you, Jim, with open arms and a bottle of Code Red.
It's Monday and it's time for the Poetic Crush List. I'll apologize now. Write if you need another apology.

10. Joel Sloman
9. Jim Behrle
8. Wynston Curnow
7. Jordan Davis
6. Mark Lamoureux
5. Mike County
4. (tied- two all time favourites here)
Xtina and Gerrit
3. Aaron Tieger
2. Chris Rizzo
1. Michael Carr

Sunday, June 22

I'm getting tired now but I've decided to get the next catalog online before I go to bed so I don't have to worry about getting up early. My sleep means so much more just before I open my eyes. I still have to write about my diamond dream.
My friends have all gone home. The house isn't a mess and it feels cozy still. I enjoyed reading what everybody wrote. It's fun to go to one's own blog and not know what is there. I've got a buzz in myhead, not a bad one, but I don't think I'll be sleeping any time soon. I'm very fond of my friends and wish I lived closer to them. Maybe I wish they lived closer to me. I'm glad to have them out to Gloucester.

It is raining hard again. Somebody has closed one of the windows in the living room (thank you) that was probably letting too much water in. Here in the study the window is open but the rain tends to fall in such a way that it makes no difference.

It is raining so much lately I wouldn't doubt it if our phone goes dead again.

There is some knitting night gossip for Greg Cook (no relation)- Melanie had a baby girl this morning.

Someone left a Pabst Blue Ribbon up on the shelf by the globe. I like it there.

Tonight would be a perfect night for the lights to go out. I am happy, the rain makes a lovely clatter. I could light candles and practice the fiddle. Gata could sleep in peace.
Ariane Doud: Howdy. About to depart the food and talk festival that is the house of Amanda and James, container of pasta salad in hand, to my own Gloucester home where dog and cat await. As always here, a lovely evening - discovered a fellow past X-Men/comics geek in Aaron Tieger, who tells me Mark and Behrle are as well....P and I will have to have to have our own soiree soon, introduce folk to our home! Hence the plans for parties P mentions below.
Patrick Doud, guest: it's gloaming on River Road, plans for more parties are being made.
mike county:
There is always a strong feeling in this house of welcomeness. Except towards me. Kidding. I hope. What am I, Behrle?

Speaking of the jism, you couldn't go to a baseball game on another day? Like there aren't enough games in a year?

Gerrit comes and goes, but not without leaving a few reading assignments for those paying attention (I always seem to read what he suggests). Told me Chet's Last Call is now a gay club. Another piece of adolescence replaced.

I had no idea Michael Carr refers to himself as Mick. Too cool. I shouldn't have insisted on that first. Too late.

Gerrit left pool six pm car heavy
garlic smell woolen socks
legwarmers & pasta salad
keep pushing pictures three
read them then post video & audio this time

want to go swimming walk barefoot walk in the mud read backlog
to want to know something : read the blog

& came across amanda threatens

I'm not a poet community lives lived

here on the podium of the guest room The Amerindian Coastline Poem
& a map with your hands make the outline of

a super hero

at my mother's I almost brought back a t-shirt with Wonder Woman pictured
on it

don't see myself as Lynda Carter but yet can fashion super bracelets
from toilet paper rolls

can separate out and ask just what the fuck does avant-garde mean?

hedges of green motor boat poised in the water gata hides
surge & hindsight

downpour once again on & off on & off hard to tell these days

thought I saw a hint of lightening out the corner of my eye...

Christopher says Christopher
not often
something significant
to say to say
think language
think. O
hap, O hollow.
It's Mick Carr here, I'm not wearing my own pants though they're very soft. Butterflies are among nature's most beautiful creatures. Spending the day out at James and Amanda's with the poets, I already feel like I live here, I'll be leaving later though. Each accurately rendered image is perfect for adding a touch of whimsy to arms, legs, faces, and other body parts. Today's accomplishments: eating cold pasta salad, seeing the highest point in town, getting my trousers soaked. Raise revenue, stop the cuts. Kat's off eating ribs in Brockton, I'm trying not to be sleepy from tequila. Thomas R. Arp.
Aaron here. Just back from a rainy walk around Gloucester with Michael and James. Amanda is drying my socks and making hummus and coffee, and we're listenining to Social Distortion, one of my favorite albums. I remember when they played on Lansdowne St. when I was 17. It was a Friday and so I signed out of the dorm overnight somewhere and went with Adam and his girlfriend. It was the first time I crowd surfed and also the first time I asked a strange girl for her phone number. She was a Northeastern student and never called me back.

Thunder! And corn chips. I like it here.

(from Chris Rizzo: "Hi.")

Hi, it's Mark L. This is Amanda's blog. Now I can check my email.

I didn't get any email. It's raining. I'm going to get another beer.
Joe and Jim have gone home. A bunch of boys went for a walk in the pouring rain. Here comes thunder.

Just past one, the fun's begun. Mike County, Aaron Tieger, Chris Rizzo, James and I have just walked (or crawled) down memory lane with an attempt at just about every Pogues song. Jim Dunn just walked in with Seamus, more later...
Good morning, good morning. Chris Rizzo and Xtina came back from the city with us. I woke up early to finish getting the house in order and start cinnamon rolls. The house is done, the rolls are nearly done. I should have just made muffins. I forgot how long it takes for dough to rise, then be shaped, then rise again. Nobody seems to mind the wait but me.

We'll see who shows up today. Jim isn't coming; he's going to Rhode Island instead. My nephews will be happy about all the soda I got for Jim.

Saturday, June 21

We spent the morning at a t-ball game- 2 of my nephews are on the Astros. It's nice to see how kids start to understand baseball. No outs, everyone scores, and still my nephew Daniel is grumpy when the first baseman (or, shall IO say, one of the first basemen, as most positions have 2 or 3 kids standing there) misses a perfect throw.

Getting ready for tonight's reading. Looking forward to tomorrow's visit. See you there and/or here?

Friday, June 20

I'm sitting at the computer drinking a PBR. Robohead is on random and I am playing fiddle along with whatever songs it decides to play. I can type with the fiddle between my chin and shoulder. I haven't figured out how to drink the beer while I play. As soon as I get up I have to do the dishes. I don't plan on getting up til my fingers are blistered and my beer is gone. Oh, the cuckoo, she's a pretty bird.
Drove up to Rowley today to go to the market. There are newly painted yellow lines down the middle of Essex, too bold for the town. 133 from Gloucester north has always been one of my favorite drives. I thought of stopping by the orchard but couldn't find anything close to an excuse. I was hungry anyway, so I made my way up tot he Agawam Diner. They were paving right before 133 and 1a split. I had to wait a while and was happy that the Clash was on the radio when I was finally able to pass the traffic cop. Windows down, music loud.

I sat at the counter at the diner. The place runs so smoothly. Plates popping up, milk from spouts, cooks and waitresses who don't need written orders. Milk shake machines. Coffee. Coconut cream pies. Regulars with cups of fish, iced coffees, no buns. Old men talking to pretty girls. Bun warmers. All in chrome.

(Quick note- this is where I used to get chocolate chip pancakes as a little girl).

The market was calm, nice, really. The deli man was amused with my order and asked to come over whenever we were eating. I didn't plan well and ended up with a lot of pickles. I don't mind that, in fact, I quite like it. Something usually makes me stop, there isn't enough room for so many kinds of pickles to be open at the same time. But I like pickles. And since everybody is coming over on Sunday I bought all the pickles that looked good to me. I got half sours, kosher dills, and jalapeno dills. I guess three kinds of pickles really isn't too bad. I also got a new flavor of Sandwich Pal. We have had jalapeno mustard and horseradish sauce, but since I got turkey for sandwiches, I got cranberry horseradish sauce. It looks a little scary but I like the idea of having a pink condiment.

I also went overboard on soda. I hope Jim comes on Sunday. I was thinking of him in the soda aisle. I bought everything that caught my eye: Orange Crush, Code Red, Squirt, Moxie and Chelmsford Golden Ginger Ale. I couldn't get myself to buy any of the special Coke or Pepsi flavors, although they are exciting. I don't really drink soda, so I hope Jim comes.

Just had a Jalapeno Baby Dill. Yummy.

I got Flavor Ice, a summer staple. Joy in a plastic tube. I was nearly tempted by Teenies but decided that with so much soda it would be too much.

I enjoy this practical sort of shopping. I can be an impulse shopper at the post office, if Lenny is in a good mood. If it's near five he'll kick me out without even seeing what kind of stamps he has.

My recital is over and I can honestly say I have never been so nervous as I was up there trying to get my bow across the strings. Nate called it the bow shakes. It seems to slacken the hairs of the bow, making playing seem nearly impossible. I don't recommend people wait until 27 for their first recital, but I am glad I did it.

I played Harvest Hornpipe and Down in the Valley. Both were fine, albeit not as good as when I was practicing. My father, half-sister, two nephews, James and Greg Cook (no relation) came. After the recital was over (I went last) Nate said we could play our songs again if we wanted. I played mine for my father and they were perfect then. I think next time will be easier, and I am certainly glad I did it. Other parents were impressed especially after they heard I had only been playing since the end of January. I really had a good time and was so excited my dad was there.

Thursday, June 19

I messed up my tattoo. I am so sad.
Poem for a Beastie.

I'm playing super breakout,
trying not to freak out.
Morning is here and I'm a ball of nerves. Things grew so much in the garden yesterday it looks as if there were some violent act. The swans were swimming about the pier... if they are here, who's minding the baby?

Wednesday, June 18

An evening is always better after a margarita. But tonight is still cold and rainy. They say it is going to rain until Saturday. The flowers I bought last week are all starting to droop and all that is left of those Joel gave me are a few lovely petals pressed in a book. The miniature rose bush in the living room has aphids and will be banished soon. My geranium is not happy indoors and begonias have never liked me. The small roses from Catherine that are by the computer are dead. My only hope is the tiny pink tip on the end of one branch of my Christmas Cactus. Please flower soon.
Home in the rain is tricky. Tired and slow and not doing much, but there is a lot to do. It's cold and the windows are old so it takes so much to close them. I don't know where to start or what to do, so I mill about and hope something gets done. Maybe I'll make popcorn.
Downtown in the rain they are building the alter for St. Peter's Fiesta. I went to the bank and was walking to my car when Paul from Cafe Sicilia drove by and yelled to me. I went in for an espresso, what's one coffee more? Jitter jitter jitter. Should have run more errands but I was getting wetter than I wanted to be. My hand is sore and I don't know why. Mostly my thumb. It may be from the way I hold my vioin with the new shoulder rest. I have to figure that out. I took apart the sweater I started for James. Have to start over, this time with new math.

Tuesday, June 17

Thank you, Wystan Curnow, for the explanation of rugby yesterday. I have to admit that I could still use a little more of a tutorial. I am also loking for tutors in the following subjects:
-Gaelic football

Any takers?
I found a dress to wear to my violin recital. Now I just need to figure out shoes- strappy black heels or new hip green and yellow sneakers? I got a fake tattoo of a fiddler (Thank you Dover and Chagall). I'm nearly ready.
James says my Bloomsday was very Bloomsday-like, what with the running around Cambridge and seeing everybody. I would just like to point out that I didn't go to a prostitute or buy soap (although I did eye the body butter at the body shop).
I was just looking through Lloyd's Register of American Yachts for 1965, trying to find an Alden Sloop named Jolie. I've never had a boat named after me. Have you?
Note to the Moose:

There are a lot of trees. Between the trees there may be a moose. Even if you can't see the moose, he's there.
I've done the dishes and cleaned the fridge. I think I am used to being home again.

I have freckles today that I didn't have on Saturday. It was quite a weekend. Saturday in for Chris and Tim, Sunday to Union Square then with Xtina to martini and food and talk and drink and walk and look for shoes and drink and walk and home to her place and wine and talk and sleep. Then up to walk to meet Patrick to food and coffee and walk and talk and shoes and food and walk and talk and drink then to Wordsworth to wait for a Jim and Wyston Curnow and sit on the stairs when Bob comes and coffee and talk then back to the reading. After the reading food and drink and talk and ride to the train station and talk and get on the train and finish the kitty and get home and sleep.

You get the idea. At the end of it I like my friends even more.

The garden is good, but very sad. I was thrilled to find that some peas are ready, but as I was looking down the line I found a bird lying dead on the cobblestones. At first I thought it was just sitting there, I was several feet away. As I got closer I could see it wasn't breathing. I spent some time just lookig at it, wondering what to do. WHen I finally got up the nerve to move it I checked to see if there were any wounds. There were none. The bird was just sitting there, dead, on the cobblestone. I buried it near the compost pile.
Good morning everyone! I'm sorry ths week's crush list is late; I was off with poets getting crush. Here it is, in all its glory...

10. Nick Piombino
9. Mike County
8. Jordan Davis
7. Michael Carr
6. Ed Barrett
5. Jim Behrle
4. Gerrit Lansing
3 (here's a tie- note to follow)
Joel Sloman and Christina Strong
2. Chris Rizzo
1. Tim Peterson

I know that when there is a tie I am supposed to count it as 3 and 4, but this way I get an extra spot... and I like so many poets this week! If Jim can write Haiku, my 10-spot crush list can have 11.

I'm still getting used to being home. Gata is just starting to speak to me. I'm going to go off into the garden for a few minutes and spend some time away from this sreen before I get into it all. Then I'll throw on my new green sneakers and get myself to work.

Sunday, June 15

Good morning world! Chris and Tim rocked my poetic world last night. Went to Charlie's after, of course, then home... slept a bit, now up, and ready to head back into the city. I'm staying at xtina's tonight, fun in the city. Woohoo!

Saturday, June 14

Things are getting a little out of control in the garden. Renegade tomatoes are popping up and I haven't the heart to pull them out. Sunflowers seem to show up at two feet tall, and then what do you do with them? I'm trying to train the morning glories to just wrap themselves around the sunflowers, not the tomatoes and cucumbers.

I found some carrots that have actually sprouted. I had lost all faith in them, but eventually they did germinate. I planted another bunch where the first crop of radishes was, and more basil between the swiss chard. There are two wee blossoms on the blueberry bush. Cherries are starting to turn red.

We're off to get sushi and go to Cambridge. Wordsworth tonight, 5 p.m., Chriss Rizzo and Tim Peterson.
I didn't get the dishes done last night. I did washa silk dress in a crystal bowl. I fell asleep listening to the game and woke in the middle of the night with strange radio killing my dreams. I'm doing the dishes now.

Friday, June 13

It's Friday night. I am doing laundry and listening to the baseball game. Or paying bills and watching the baseball game. Or blogging listening to the game. Soon I'll do the dishes, which will mean listening to the game. Go Sox. I wish it were warm and not raining because then I would swim after the game.

Xtina's interpretation....

Noah's picture of a Monkey on a Vespa.
Just got back from lunch with Greg Cook (no relation), who continues to push the question "Why?" I'm getting better at answering it.

The ride to MGH and back was nice, quiet and for the most part uneventful. I did get asked to move along when I was trying to wait in a no stopping zone, but I was wrong and was wrong. I just didn't wat to circle so much because there was some construction on Cambridge Street and every time I stopped for pedestrians in the MGH loop someone would swing around me and nearly hit them. I wasn't into that.

On the way home I stopped to get flowers from the flower lady near the rotary. Is she a moonie? Here in Gloucester it seems that everybody who is involved with any sort of business that you don't know personally (or know someone who knows them) has potential to be a moonie. When I got home and Charlotte asked where I got the flowers, she said "oh, the moonie?" I don't know.

Anyway, I got a three gerber daisies: red, yellow and orange. They look like Mexico, Charlotte says. I'm trying to have flowers near where I am. Last night Catherine gave me some little roses. They are by the computer.

I was looking forward to another strawberry today but when I went to pick it the potato bugs had devoured one half of it. Buggerall.
Why is it that when good music comes on the car radio I need to open the windows?

Hamer opened the pool and the boys and I went in yesterday. It was right cold, so they didn't stay in for long. I swam for a bit and did tricks for them.

Elizabeth, the kids, James and I went to Steve's on Railroad Ave for dinner. I had not gone there out of fear (everyday in middle and highschool it seemed like someone was fighting at Steve's) and because they had been very unpleasant to a friend of mine. After the insistence of Nate and others that the place was good and fine, and my realization that I should only have a grudge against one resturant in town at a time (it's Sugar Magnolia's now), we decided to gve it a try.

Everything was going well, albeit a bit chaotic. I was up at the counter getting drinks for James and I when this guy comes in and starts complaining about the salad he got, that it was old and there was brown lettuce in it. He dumps the thing out on the counter and starts to pick through it to find the bad lettuce. The owner, we'll call him Steve, starts picking through the lettuce as well. While doing this he determines that the guy couldn't have gotten that salad that day, as the chicken was cold, etc. The guy starts yelling about being robbed. Steve starts saying "You'll ait for a new salad." The guy says no, he wants his money back, and starts swearing up a storm. I go back to my seat. They are screaming, flinging arms, and my sister's kids are hearing every bad word one could think of. It really looks like it will get violent until the guy at the counter gave the customer his money back. Well, I went to Steve's, and it was all I expected and more.

Greg came to my sister's and brought the kids across the street to the baseball game. It really calmed knitting night down. When they got back he drew with tham at the kitchen table. I alsked Noah (4) to draw me a monkey on a vespa. What I got was great. I'll try to figure out pictures and put it up.

Well, I'm off to drive my dad to MGH.

The quilt got finished, but not until I was already at Knitting Night. We were having a baby shower for one of the girls.

Thursday, June 12

Home again, home again, jiggity jig.

Piano went well, other than my being a slacker. I learned secondary chords. I ordered a new shoulder rest for my violin, 'cuz I broke mine. I've got to practice mre today.

I'm off to finish that quilt. I wish I had a digital camera, then you could see it too.
Last night I had the strangest dream....

I went to my violin lesson, but a day early. Nathan's house was more like my piano teacher's house, but it was on a hill in a part of Gloucester that doen't exist. From the top of this hill you could see some of all the different kinds of Gloucester. Quiet, laid-back hippy parts, artsy areas, the canal, the coast, the highway, downtown... I would love to live there if it existed.

So Nate tells me my lesson is tomorrow just as his neighbor runs in and asks if we want to play baseball. Nate doesn't, I do. We head out toward the field on foot but run into this group of people with some urban religion, dressed like they came out of a Pat Benatar video. They had little patches of their hair dyed. Each kid had the same color as the adult that hurt them. I recognized some of the people. They were a raggedy bunch, and we spent the rest of the night running from them.

I wake up in Nate's house, and I have no idea how I got back there. I have to call James to tell him not to worry, I'm fine, sorry didn't make it home. I have to hurry because it's nearly 6:30 and he'll be leaving for work soon. There are 3 phones in the house. Nate's mom is a therapist and while she is making coffee and toast each of the phones is off the hook with someone talking to her (a different person on each phone) and I can't call because if I hang up on any of these people they will know she isn't listening and I couldn't do that to them. I am about to try to run home when I really do wake up.

What do you think about that one?

Wednesday, June 11

The Yankees have been no hit. Let's say it together: The Yankees have been no hit.
The strawberry crop in Massachusetts is in jeapordy froma lack of sun. I've had two already from my little barrel. That's more than usual for this time of year.

I wish the Red Sox were on normal tv more often. I don't have cable. Radio is nice, I love it, but I'd like to see sometimes...

I have to make a baby quilt tonight. I'm not sure if the baby is of the boy or the girl variety, but the shower is tomorrow night. I'm thinking something with blueberries and butterflies. Blue and green are nice together, and they aren't so wussy as the typical light yellow.

I took a nap this afternoon. A nice, long nap after a nice, long bath. I was a little out of it after the nap; I slept much longer than I meant to. Dinner is in the oven in the form of a curried turkey meatloaf I had once but don't have the recipe for. Things could get ugly.
Elijah just left. What a day! We went from mostly crying, to mostly not crying, to having a great time. He wasn't difficult, he just didn't want me to put him down or move or anything. Then at 2 he started having a ball. He got off my lap, started playing, crawling, eating, chasing a ball, chasing Gata, anything he could find to chase he did.

We went for a nice walk up to Lighthouse Beach. I love the Pasture; I don't know why I don't go there more often.

Elijah is here, but he's asleep. The house is clean. There's a spider in the corner, but I'll let hiim be.
Good Moring! It's early, it's lovely, I'm awake and I'm happy. I'll spend the next couple of hours cleaning verything I can find for when Elijah comes. We're out of wet cat food and good coffee, so Gata and I are just going to have to suffer together. I hope the weather stays nice. The radio just said that there may be showers this afternoon. Oh well.

Tuesday, June 10

Oh, sad day. Today I learned of the death of another small record store. After dropping Alex off at tutoring and picking Will up at Waring we decided to go to the record store on Cabot St. in Beverly to buy the new Radiohead. It was empty. For lease.

I still have a hard time believeing anybody reads this that I haven't cooked for. Have I never cooked for you? Send me your address. I'll bake you cookies. Maybe I'll try to beat Jim and Ron by baking cookies for all my readers. Spread the word. I make good cookies.
The day is going well now. The first round of babysitting is done. Work was good, the boss was happy enough with everything and I got what I needed to do done in no time at all. They didn't keep my Dad at MGH, although he isn't doing better. But he's home, and that is good.

Listen to this. Last night my grandfather and Charlotte went to some event on the Lannon. When they got off the boat they met this Norwegian guy in the parking lot. He needed a place to stay, so they took him to the Crow's Nest to try to get a room. All the rooms were full, so they brought this guy home and had him stay here (for those who don't know I live on the third floor of his house). It was very nice of them, but when I know they are bringing home Norwegian fisherman strangers, I wish I had a door between their part of the house and my apartment.

I've got banana bread in the oven for the wee Elijah to eat tomorrow. This will be the first time my sister leaves him all day. I'm looking forward to it.
Since the ingrediants for banana bread are not yet at room temperature I am lstening to Nick Piombino's poems from PM on Jism. It freaked Gata right out when they first came on.

I'm afraid I will be a bit too earnest over the next few days. I pulled a j at dinner last night, making wisecracks at every turn. Avoiding it all. I guess that's why I did the water thing last night. Too much Tomfoolery. Turn to a fear that can be addressed, one that is without consequence. It's going to be a long week. I'm sorry.

My friend Patrick is suspicious of my new friend Patrick.

Nick, Gata has gotten used to the poems. She is saying something sbout them, but as she only speaks Spanish, I'm afraid I can't get at the true meaning of what she is saying.

I'm off to work. Enjoy the day.

When I woke Alex up this morning the first thing he said to me was "They should make monkey pants."

I just made the worst coffee in the world.

Today is busy. Babysit, then work, then babysit. I'm trying to get Alex to go swimming with me this afternoon. It would be more fun than just sitting around. I'll see the bossman for the first time since he got home in a couple hours. I hope he's in a good mood.

Monday, June 9

After the conversation tonight I wanted to be outside, naked. I put on the kimono a friend's mother made me and went down toward the dock.

I am sure when I do things like this that I won't come back.

I wanted to goto the dock, to be close to the water. I was sure on the way down that I was alone, just like I wanted to be. But as soon as I started down the ramp a door openned somewhere on Cambridge Avenue. A light flickered up near the top of the hill. The tide was going out. Still, there was enough water to swim away if I needed to. But it's really the water that I am afraid of. For years I have thought that if I should go, it would be the water that would take me. I don't want to be afraid of it anymore.

I stood there on the dock for some time, gathering courage. It's not that I am afraid of being naked. I am afraid of being naked alone with the ocean. By this time I am shaking. I don't feel safe. I haven't felt safe for years. I was determined not to give in to it. This summer I will no longer be afraid of the ocean. I will go in on the first count of three. I dropped my kimono and stood there, in the moonlight, for only enough time to know I was there.
Just got home from dinner at Gerrit III's house, cooked by Gerrit IV. Brian, Patrick, Timitha and John in attendence. I'm not sure which vowel goes in the middle of Timitha, but I like i right now.

Best comment of the night, and I fully expect to get this wrong (Gerrit, please correct me):

The first time my Saturn was rising I ended up in jail.

The current edition of the crush list is not really the first. The publisher noticed a mistake in the spelling of one name and pulled as many copies as she could find from the shelves. Unfortunately, several made their way onto the market. These will appear in the first Lame Duck Books catalog for the year 2006. The edition you see now will pale in comparison when values are compared at the 2220 World Fair.
Here are the short biographies....

Tim will continue to shock and amaze me.
Jim B. will never understand quite what I mean by it.
Gerrit is too fond of my feet to be my grandfather.
Mark L. will always have his name spelled incorrectly. By me. Even when I copy it from something he has written.
Dan is a fine, upstanding lad. Don't let him fool you.
Chris used to have long hair and wrote jazz-inspired poems.
Aaron can rock out, fer sure.
Nick is a mystery to me, but from his choice of blogs I can tell he's a hottie.
Christina is so much better with words than the letters after her name would lead Helen Vendler to guess.
Ed makes me want to run away to Ireland and spend my days making scones and drinking whiskey.
Amanda's Poetic Crush List
June 9, 2003
First Edition

10. Jim Behrle
9. Tim Peterson
8. AaronTieger
7. Mark Lamoureux
6. Dan Bouchard
5. Nick Piombino
4. Chris Rizzo
3. Christina Strong
2. Gerrit Lansing
1. Ed Barrett

Send me your comments and complaints. And short bios. Of you, or somebody else.
This is Shake Up Day for the Poetic Crush List.

Xtina, I've never even finished undergraduate. I'm an under-undergraduate. Dropped out of 3 schools so far.
Oh, morning and coffee and work. This morning at the Grange I saw all sorts of people. Conversations rolled into one another... Ellen, who has a place in Dingle, told me about the house she just bought (the one just past the causeway with the shed window that is set as a diamond). As she was leaving David, who is fromCork, came in. We talked about the fiddle and his wife, Katie, who is part of knitting night. Then Andy and John, husband and son of Catherine, who also comes to knitting night. And so on.

Bossman comes home from London today. I am trying to get everthing in order before he gets home. I've got the office nearly fine. Light soil, else VG.
Xtina- Count me in your list of uneducated. If I'm not already there.

Sunday, June 8

I think I'll have a popsicle and go to bed. Goodnight all you monkeys and moonbabies.
Tomorrow is poetic crush list day. Poets, make your selves crushworthy. Crushworthy, make yourselves poets.
I just took a nice long bath. Read Gourmet in the tub. There's a group of people who never considered hating the French.

After James picked me up from work we went to Ellen's Harborside in Rockport for dinner. Of all the places of commerce inmy life, Ellen's has been the most steady. My mother would take us every year when they opened in the spring. Other than a few years of chicken fingers I always got calamari. Later I would go with Gregg, and now James and I go. The menu is the same, the decor is nearly constant. Tonight I got calamari. I ordered everything just as it has been for over 20 years. Steady. Looking out at the gull who is inevitably standing on the ledge of the next building. The tide and the price of clams is all that changes.

I've had oysters the same day as swimming (in fact, Friday). A reviewer in Gourmet says they remind her of being completely underwater in the ocean. I don't think they do. They are more like kissing salt off of skin, if you ask me. Being underwater is a little cold.

Fried oysters are altogether different as well.

Some places continue to be in my life, even as they change. The Market here in Annisquam was once run by Black Arthur. My grandmother, my sister and I would walk or roller skate down to get popsicles or Twix bars. Arthur wasn't nice to many people, but he loved Marnie. He's always been nice to me too. He moved to the Lane's Cove Market, which he ran with his wife, Jugs. I would go there to get Moxie and gummy worms. And rent movies. I just stopped in today.

Before Arthur's we would go to Maay's or Sara's, whichever you wanted to call it. I get the feeling I am missing a's in either name. Dinosour eggs were the best there. Or the Lanesville Packy. Mr. Morey had that great display for lollipops. We'd get those and a lottery ticket. Megabucks. What a dream that would make. Watching television at the foot of my mother's bed long after she had fallen asleep, waiting through whatever was on to see if we had won.

Then the Firehouse. An old coffee shop with hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon rolls. One of the first men my mother dated after my father left was there all the time. I don't remember his name but he was always kind to us. My mother had a big tricycle she rode, with us three kids in a basket on the back. We could get that thing to tip in the driveway so easily it's a wonder she never rolled over on the corner of Andrews St., where Luke and countless other kids fell out of cars.

My mom had a store in the old firehouse building just last year until she was evicted. Maay's is an antique store now. The Packy is still the Packy, and always will be.

I just talked to my dad. He's not doing any better, but no worse either. That's good, I guess. The Red Sox are ahead. The radio isn't coming in so well, it has that nice a.m. buzz. Still, with the score at 9 to 1, I can't complain. But I probably will.
Today is grumpy and it is cold out. I would love a cup of coffee right now but I am at work and James has the car, so I am stuck here without any caffeine. Joe Burns had a Red Sox cap on today, which made me happier. Joe is a Yankees fan.
Ah, Blogger is back up. Work is suddenly much easier.

Saturday, June 7

Red Sox win. Put on Cornershop. Do the dishes. Go to bed.
I think the puppets from GBH should be calling the ducks/devils game and the sports announcers should be acting in Paula Vogel's play.
Saturday night, home in the rain. It's sort of lovely. I planted the basil I had started from seed and got thoroughly soaked.

Rich people are trying to park in our driveway so they can go to a wedding reception at the yacht club. I had locked myself out of the house when I brought out the trash, which was a good thing, because this man in a fancy car parked in Charlotte's spot while I was knocking on the door trying to get in. I was still soaked from gardening when I went down to greet him. As he openned his door I said, "Before you bother to get out I should tell you that if you park there I will have to have you towed." He looked at me and said "Very well then." Off he went.
Saturday is a slow day for blogs. Maybe everybody is off doing fun things. Not me.
I want new things to look at.

Working is going well, I guess. It feels like I am doing this for the first time, but without anyone to answer my questions this time. That'll show me. I should do some cataloging every so often just to stay in practice. It is very slow now, but at least I am getting some done.
A green tarp just fell from the sky.
Lovely morning, ending with rain.

I got flowers for the window boxes at work, mostly purple with some white and yellow. I'm not so much of a purple girl but am in a purple mood.

Christina and Aaron- so nice to hear your voices this morning on Jim's blog. Like having the first cup of coffee with a friend.

Friday, June 6

Babs, this year i go in on the first count of 3.
Summer is coming, kids, and you can't stop it.

Practiced violin out in the garden for a bit. James and I jumped in the river. Cold, yes, very cold, but woo! woo! and the salt and all still on my hair and skin and cold then the first strawberry from the garden.
greg- no need for amends. see you soon...
Looks like I maybe won't be going to CA this month. And I will be leaving here for an ice cream cone before my violin lesson.
I just spent the morning with my dad. We started by looking at his trains, which he has recently set up in the dining room. He collects and build model trains of the central New York line, and a few others, and is big into milk cars. Sometimes we go to train shows together. They are a lot like book fairs, but the people wear more overalls and there are even fewer women. I'm not so into trains, but I'm certainly not against them. Nobody else will go with him. So it has become on of those things we do together. I like knowing that part of him.

My father showed me several engines. The first, which made sounds like a real train, kept jumping the tracks. A few pieces fell off and although his hands were shaking pretty badly he got them back on. Then he showed me a little Japanese engine, about 20 years old, that had light that were green on the front and red on the back. When the train changed directions, the lights changed. I liked this one. He had a couple boxes of tiny sitting people, passengers for box cars. He has a problem. When the box cars are moving and empty, they look silly. But if they are full and sitting in the yard they look silly too. The only thing we could think of is that he could fill them with old people who might have forgotten to get off at the last stop and ended up spending the night in the yard.

We went out for breakfast then headed up to Salem Hospital. I'd never been there, but he needed to go for an iv traetment. The place was crazy. I spent an hour in the waiting room listening to people talk about Salem, the Peabody Essex Museum, and the woman behind the counter. I felt sort of bad about using a handicapped spot (legally) when these really old women came in but they were so mean about everything I didn't worry too much about it.

Dad wanted to go to a new hobby store in Swampscott. He loves to go look at everything, and to explain how everything works. He got some 0.60 foam board to build floors for the box cars.

Driving around with him is nice. We get to talk about a lot of things. If this treatment doesn't work well he'll have to go to MGH for a week or so. I hate the idea of him alone there. Things seem to be working less and less. Or maybe he is just more resigned to fate. At this point, what does fate have to do with it?

Thursday, June 5

P. just sent me this link to Monchichi. I remeber being so comforted by them sucking their thumbs when I was a little girl. I wasn't into sucking my thumb, but it was so lovely that some creature (plastic or not) would just be happy to suck their thumb.
Since Jordan emailed and I feel so in tune with the hip people I think I will share the note James found in the street outside our house a while ago.

Tell Stacia 'bout Mike Rolfe/
Drunk/ dad
ask to play,
show her dudish figure.

Come to my house for dinner and see it for yourself. It'll be on the fridge.
Two games of Monopoly in one week are too many.

I don't know if I will make it into the city at all for this weekend's poetry. All the work I didn't do last weekend is still there, and more urgent. I will do my best to get it done and get into the city.

Patrick and Jordan, thanks for the Monkey Song suggestions! I know there are more out there. Stop hiding your monkey songs.
I have long been convinced that where there are monkeys there is joy. I spent a good two hours looking at these crazy monkeys in the Seattle zoo last September. They made the most noise I have ever heard, and it was among the best noise too. Almost as good as the mocking birds outside my violin lesson last week that were copying the boy before me playing "She'll be coming round the mountain." Does anybody remember Moochichi (sp)?

Driving from Lanesville today I saw a silver fox walking along Washington St. by Lobster Cove. I tell you, it was real.
"A chick pecking at a cardboard head model." Best caption so far today.
Or a monorail.
I wish I was half as sophisticated and hip as Christina. I don't even live in a city with a subway.
It feels good to be productive. I've been at work since 8 and have gotten quite a bit done already. I'm going to take a quick ride to get a cup of coffee, then back for more.

I missed the lilacs again. Every year I say I am going to cut some to put on the windowsil next to my bed. I watch the branches as they start to grow, bud, then flower. Then I turn around and see that the blossoms have already turned brown. Every year. Some day... I still have a chance for wild roses this year.

James says I am finding my blog voice, but that I could use more proof reading. I told him that's how I am keeping it real, yo.

Wednesday, June 4

Things fall apart.

I am thinking of having a retreat into the city. Would anybody like to be my host for a few hours? I wonder if I could work out some sort of friend marathon. A wee break from Gloucester reality. Just a thought.
Broccoli and cauliflower are beginning to appear in the leaves... lettuce is good, arugala better. The first crop of radishes is just about gone. The peas near the Murrays are just starting to flower. All is good in the garden.
I am now taking suggestions for a mixed tape of songs about monkeys. Results will be posted in the margin.
I can't get a thing done. I've been staring at a book on the Confederate States Marine Corps for some time now and don't have a thing to say about it. Except VG in dj.
7-11 now has crystal light slurpees. And these long candy straws that aren't as good as they should be. I had imagined (and I have no idea why) that they would taste sort of like those rolls of red licorice I used to get a Maay's, at least once the sour sugar stuff came off. No way, these were nearly tasteless. But it makes me think of the year the Lanesville Paacky ave out huge sticks of Bazooka gum for Halloween.
7-11 now has crystal light slurpees. And these long candy straws that aren't as good as they should be. I had imagined (and I have no idea why) that they would taste sort of like those rolls of red licorice I used to get a Maay's, at least once the sour sugar stuff came off. No way, these were nearly tasteless. But it makes me think of the year the Lanesville Paacky ave out huge sticks of Bazooka gum for Halloween.
Did you ever notice that in Monopoly income tax ($200) is between the two most affordable housing complexes and luxury tax (a mere $75) is between the most expensive places?
Last night I went to bed so early, but it didn't work so well. My grandfather went away and left his german shephard, JB. I got up a couple times to let him out. The sleep daze was lovely though, and the light from outside creeping in. This morning there are backhoes and dump trucks on the beach across the river, probably repairing the dunes.

They planted a new tree this morning in front of the Village Hall. It is small, not much taller than Babs, but it will be easier for whomever to put the lights on in winter. I'll be able to look back and remember when they planted this tree, and tell my grandkids so they can roll their eyes and wish I would just shut up and drink my whiskey.

Elizabeth and I are trying to talk to Mom more.

Tuesday, June 3

good night moon.
notes to self-
injustice in monopoly
cancer juice slurpee
Babs, the tree in front of the Village Hall was cut down. It looks odd. Happened about a week ago, and I still haven't come to terms with it. Annisquam is falling apart without you.
I am becoming aware of glaring ommissions from my crush list.
Oh, Yoshimi. Oh oh.
10:30 and already overwhelmed. Sometimes hearing a story makes you part of a story and that story can be a bit much.

I took Daniel to George's today. Yesterday I took Andrew. Tomorrow I will take Noah. It's kind of funny. I had meant to take Noah on Monday, the day after his fourth birthday, but he wouldn't come. He wanted me to take his older brothers first, then he would go. There is a certain order, I guess.

Monday, June 2

I just recorded myself playing the violin. Listening back, I can see my grade is 'needs improvement'.
Mini bios:
Joel Sloman is quiet. I read his book in the tub sometimes. Jim Dunn is more fun than a barrel of drunk monkeys. Aaron Teiger is kinder to me than I expect. I found a manuscript of Tim's poetry today and liked what I read. SImon charms me to death. Mark has great shirts and has more cheeseburger poems than anybody I know. Jim B has the guts to do stuff. Gerrit is my grandfather. Christina has a great voice. Chris is more prolific and gracious than anybody I know.
I've learned the chorus to Love Will Tear Us Apart. James and I are about to have shots to celebrate the life of June Carter, who is currently singing in our kitchen.

I also learned how to play Long Black Veil and this song on a Cagney and Lacey album "For the Sake of the Children", which can also be heard in the film Nashville. If anybody has any recommendations on what I should try to play on the violin, just write.
James says:
"there are only a handful of movies I know all the words to. Three of them are Hamlet."
Four Winds and Ferrini.
Gossip gossip gossip.
No dinner yet.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ (cat jumps on keyboard).
I've got to practice violin.

I'm off to pick up Alex.
Just heard on the BBC about a plot to kidnap David Beckham's wife. How put out she must be to have herself described as such with no mention of her own fame!
Monday is crush day. And crushed day. I am too tired to be at work. It happens every time. The day after a book fair is useless.

Here goes:

10. Simon Pettet
9. Tim Peterson
8. Joel Sloman
7. Jim Dunn
6. Christina Strong
5. Chris Rizzo
4. Aaron Teiger
3. Mark Anaconda
2. Jim Behrle
1. Gerrit Lansing

A new edition:
The Issues list. A short list of people.
That Lime Tree guy. Mike. Ron Silliman. Joe. That guy that asked me to collate a $40 book, then told me how to do it. Okay, okay. I know.

Sunday, June 1

And Jim has more friends.
Jim 76
Amanda 12

I guess this means all our friends spent the day lounging in some cafe somewhere.