Car Wars

update on situation of the automobile. suprisingly enough, this all concerns my moms car, as it was in possession at time of said events. if youve read my last entry, youll know where i left off. if not, scroll down you lazy bastard before continuing.
at our last meeting, the ford was residing at firestone, awaiting a slight fixing. since then, the following events have transpired in this sequence. i was notified by firestone that the thermostat would need to be replaced as well as a coolant flush to make sure that whatever the problem was is now gone. sure, go ahead. "itll be done by 2 o'clock mr. porter." sweet. i show up at firestone at 2:30 to pick up said car. "um, its still overheating, the temperature gauge is reading in the red and we are trying to burp the engine (get air pocket out of it). the only catch is that it wont be ready til the next day. whatever, thats fine.
next day. its ready at 10am but i cant pick it up til after work. i show up at 6:46 to get it. what they tell me is that the temperature gauge in the car, the one right on the console, is faulty so i should just disregard it. sure, youre a pro, i trust you. i get in the car, it looks like they just disconnected the temp gauge, no matter what, if the car is on or off, it reads uber hot. whatever, the guy told me it wasnt working anyway.
i start the drive to RI, i get on 93, some funky noises coming from the car. hmph, thats interesting. i get to the rte 3 split, the car isnt responding to the throttle. shit. i start pulling off the side of the highway, the engine light comes on, the oil light comes on, steam starts coming from under the hood. shit. shit. shit. shit. shit. needless to say, the folks at firestone dont know shit about cars whatsoever and can eat my ass. THEN they wouldnt refund me the $300 i spent on NOTHING. so what did i do, i went right to the head honcho. did i get my money back? you better believe it. i would write more but my food is done and there is drinking to be done. word up to ya mutha.

pooter vs. the automobile

lets review the past few months:

February: two tires replaced after one of them gets shredded to bits. they recommend i replace another one, sure why not. $200
March: squeeeeeeek....screeeeeeeech. time for new brakes. replace both brake pads, 1 rotor. $200
April: hey.....where did my brakes go? lose all brake pressure. this is pure bliss mind you. replace the brake system master cylinder. $600.
May: while driving chellis to work, on my day off, at 8am, my exhaust pipe that comes off the engine severs from the catalytic converter. this splendid pipe contains an oxygen sensor, that....senses.....oxygen.....in the exhaust. ok whatever. cost to stop my car from sounding like a B-17: $650
June: while driving to a gig in beverly my car starts to sound like a B-17 again, not as loud, but perfectly rumbly. my new $650 pipe is fine but the pipe that connects to the actual muffler is severed. i ripped the muffler off the car, it now resides in my trunk. i dont sound horrible, i sound like a g'd out honda, or nissan as it were. havent fixed it yet, but i figure another $200.
so this is where i stand. i have had nothing but horrific luck with cars over the past...well the whole fiscal year up to date. so this weekend i let my car have a break. i had a heavy weekend of driving ahead of me and didnt feel like running the car further into the ground. mother dear was gracious enough to let me use hers since she wasnt really going anywhere. this was a sweet deal considering that her car doesnt sound like a B-17 and it has A/C and a working radio!!!! holy shit!!!!! its also a V-6 which means its much more fun to drive. sorry nissan, but you need a break. well well well, driving back to boston yesterday with moms car, as soon as i get off the highway the engine temp just skyrockets. yippee yo kay yay. i had just just JUST had a flight lesson concerning emergency situations including fires or, you guessed it, overheating engines. so, if i were flying, i would have no problem. my only option in the car is to crank the heat and pull off the side of the road and shut off the engine and let it vent for awhile. nothing doin. the car is just roasting away. no steam, no leak, nothing but a realllly hot engine. i was supposed to drive back to RI last night so i could spend the day doing housework for mom in getting ready for my sisters wedding. instead, i am still in boston, waiting to hear back from the repair place so i can pay more money to have a car that isnt even mine fixed.

moral of the story: never piss into the wind.

hmph

im kind of throwing in the towel here folks. i am starting on my life in the air, which i would never want to trade for anything, but in doing so, i am really abandoning any possibility of having a relationship with anyone. everything in that realm seems pointless at this point. any "lead"i have had in the past few months has shriveled and died like a neglected houseplant. as i have said in the past, i am not going to make any attempts at starting anything new, which i stand by, but it still incredibly difficult when your me, someone who thrives on companionship. whenever i go flying, there is going to be that seat to my right, empty. how many gals out there are adventurous enough for me? rockstar enough? at the same time, wholesome? basically, who is perfect? please raise your hand. i would love to see that, it would this whole thing a lot easier.

every time a bell rings, a pooter gets his wings..

thats right folks. the time has finally come. it what should amount to the culmination of my existence on this planet thus far, i will be starting pilot lessons once again next weekend. i was going two years ago and i ran out of money, not surpisingly considering each lesson comes out to almost $200. but this time is different. i have allll the money this time. i will be flying out of the same FBO (fixed based operator, short for flight school) that i went through a few years ago, they still remember me. I should be flying either a Cessna or a Diamond, hoping for the diamond as it has a glass canopy, and a stick as opposed to a wheel for that true fighter pilot sensation. so each weekend morning, you can expect me to be cruising around the lovely state of rhode island for a few hours. i am hoping to be licensed by the end of the summer. I will post pictures here and kind of use this as a live journal of getting a pilots license. dont worry though, i will of course keep up with the usual banter. oh...and thanks mom. you are amazing.

The glory of democracy

ST. LOUIS, Missouri (CNN) -- Even as Daham Kassim sits in his brother-in-law's comfortable suburban St. Louis home, his thoughts constantly turn back to his native Iraq and the tragic events that brought him to the United States.

On or about March 25, 2003, the beginning of the Iraq war, Daham, his wife, Gufran, his brother, and their four young children piled into the family's white Peugeot and headed north out of Nasiriya to escape the chaotic U.S. bombing and fighting.

They had waited all morning for a violent sandstorm to subside, but fear of being caught in the crossfire prompted Daham to leave despite the bad weather.

"There is sandstorm there and I don't see. I see nothing because sandstorm. So there is four or three tanks American tanks in the gate, Nasiriya gate," he says.

Daham says he stopped his car and after about a minute the tanks opened fire, instantly killing his 2-year-old and 9-year-old daughters.

He says two American troops approached his car. He remembers they called themselves "Chris" and "Joe."

"I saw them take my son, Mohammed ... it is difficult to breathing," he says, describing his son's grave condition. "My daughter, the fourth one, my daughter, Zainab, is still OK as I see her."

Daham was gravely injured, suffering gunshot and shrapnel wounds to his arms, legs and face. Gufran was shot in the chest and the blast broke both of her arms.

Mohammed, age 6, died minutes later.

Daham, Gufran and Zainab were taken to a U.S. field hospital a few miles away, but were moved to the Nasiriya Air Base hospital that evening when their beds were needed for wounded American troops.

"It is very, very cold," he says, remembering that night. "Then my daughter, Zainab, said, 'Pop, it is very cold.' But you know, I have nothing to help her, because I can't stand up. ... My legs is also broken. And my wife also, the two arms are broken. It is difficult to help my daughter, and [she] also died."

Daham and Gufran were eventually moved to the USS Comfort, a Navy hospital ship, where they stayed for approximately one month.

There, Daham's right leg was amputated and according to hospital ship records provided by Daham, his "poor" prognosis improved steadily.

The Kassims eventually returned to Nasiriya and were admitted to Nasiriya General Hospital on May 3, 2003.

The U.S. military cannot confirm or accept responsibility for the incident involving the Kassim family.

A spokesman for the U.S. Marine Corps said the Marines found "an incident reported up the chain of command that appears similar to what Mr. Kassim tells CNN."

Maj. Douglas Powell issued a statement saying that in late March "the Iraqi regular army and Fedayeen" [Saddam Hussein's specially picked troops] were implementing tactics such as using "civilian vehicles to drive close to and fire upon Marines."

In response, "hasty checkpoints" were set up, and in the engagement most closely matching Daham's account, the Marine statement said the civilian vehicle "failed to stop and was engaged. ... Based upon all the facts, it was determined the shooting did not violate our rules or engagement nor the law of war."

A Freedom of Information Act yielded no written records about the incident. The lack of documentation can be blamed on the hectic pace of war and the tragic nature of conflict, Powell said.

Daham has written records of his U.S. military-supervised medical care. He also was able to obtain the death certificate for his 5-year-old daughter, Zainab, from the Army at the Nasiriya Air Base hospital.

Zainab's cause of death on March 27, 2003, is listed as "blast injury causing penetration of skull and exposure of brain."

An Army spokeswoman verified the document and said the number "000-00-027" listed in the "Social Security number" space on the form means that Zainab was the 27th Iraqi civilian to die at the base hospital.

While Daham is grateful for what the United States has done for Iraq and empathizes with American parents who have lost their children, he says what he really wants is an apology from the U.S. military.

"They don't care my story," he says. "The American government, I mean, and the American Army, ... but in the other side there is many, many American people help me."

Daham and Gufran were able to come to the United States because of Keith Lindsey, who runs Lindsey Manufacturing, a California-based company that specializes in emergency power restoration.

Before the accident, Daham was the director of the electricity system in the southwestern region of Iraq. Lindsey arranged for a six-month visa for the Kassims so Daham could acquire new skills and seek medical treatment.

Since their arrival in January, Daham's brother-in-law, Ihsan-Al-Yasiry, has arranged for pro-bono prosthesis and rehab care for Daham and English classes for Gufran.

Daham is only one of an untold number of Iraqi civilians who have been injured since the start of the war. There is no reliable count of the number killed, although the Web site www.iraqbodycount.com puts the number at as many as 25,000.

"There is many people, many families like my situation, really. And this need help and support and stand with them, not leave them with no asking, nothing. This is not, not, not a way to live, not a way to understand each other," he says.

Daham and Gufran were scheduled to go back to Iraq the week of June 6. The couple has applied for an extension, because Gufran is now two months pregnant.

"No one can feel or imagine what we suffer what we felt. But we [are] looking for to start our life, this is what we want," Daham says. "We need help and support and everything to start our life again."

eternal complaints of the absent minded

it was bound to happen. every single year, the same thing happens. for a period of about 5 or 6 months, starting sometime in october, the human race, inhabiting the northern hemisphere, starts complaining. it is all of a sudden too cold, too windy, where did the summer go? i i wish it were summer again. its inevitable and we are all guilty. we just think back to swimming pools and beach mornings. lemonade in the sun and cookouts with family and friends. we forget about humidity, heat, heat, and humidity, and heat, and humidity. so then when summer finally makes his first appearance of the year like some starlet showing up to his own surprise party that he already knew about it, after everyone already shouted surprise for somone else by accident, its almost an unwelcomed guest. waywards metaphor but you get the picture. its hot as a mutha out today. and everyone is complaining. after that shit ass week that we had, its finally nice and everyone is saying "its nice out, but its just too hot." so everyone puts their air conditioners in and in the back of their minds wishes that they could get a tan from the TV that they so cowardly retreat to. i for one am doing the one great thing a person can do to remain cool. donning a red sox jersey and imbibing copius amounts of coronas. after all, it is the cerveza mas fina.

6.1.05

This is a weird time for me.  I feel like I might be coming into my own, maturing when I thought that I was already ripe beyond my years.  With change comes growth, with growth comes change and watching that happen is very interesting and perhaps a bit disconcerting.  For instance, years ago, when I was in my mid teens, maybe early teens, I would have these little conversations with myself before I feel asleep every night.  It was in these conversations that I basically wrote out my personal morals, or life goals, or attitudes about certain things.  With only a 13 year old mind to reference, completely void of all real life experiences, the goals could be looked at as a bit altruistic.  For instance, I wanted to be married and have kids by the time I am 27.  I am 23 now, going to be 24 in a few months.  There is virtually no way that that is going to happen.  Everyone had has this conversation with themselves, setting up a time line of accomplishment.  Letting go of that is a very strange thing to me.  It has always been a certain guide, a way of keeping myself in check, and it doesn't just apply to romance.  If you were to tell the 13 year old version of me that when I was 23, that I wasn't a pilot in the air force, not even a commercial pilot, and that I was a guitar player, living in boston, working at a bank, I would have laughed in your face and then thrown my coffee milk at you.  But since I am a guitar, since I do live in boston, since I do work at a bank, is there a reason to panic?  I don't think so.  Life has led me here, and one day it will lead me up to the skies at which point, ill probably never come down. 
Anyway, at this point, all future mapping has been tossed aside.  I don't have to be married by a certain date, have a regular job, be making this much money, be doing anything really.  The only thing that matters is if I am doing exactly what I want to be doing.  I cant honestly say that I am right now, but, queue Richard Bach quote, "the greatest rewards lie in wait for those that take the high, hard roads, but those rewards are hidden by time." 
Carpe diem

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5.18.05

Im sorry, im sorry im sorry.  I have been knee deep in work, music, and mostly red wine.  Im done at the horse, farewell, adieu, hasta la pasta for I shall not be returning any time soon; less my banking career bellies up and folds under.  So what is on the radar my faithful concubines?  NOTHING.  It is a fantastic freedom of time, of space, of space-time as it were.  A freedom that has not been known to me since....since....a very long time ago.  The big difference now is that I have funding.  If you were to break up that word you would discover two distinct syllables, fun being the first, ding being the second.  It is a perfect word don't you think.  With funding you have fun...DING!!!!  Am I cracked out?  Perhaps.  But for some reason I have a vision of robin Williams blazing away on a stage, coked out of his mind using a water bottle to piss on the people sitting in the good seats.  I have somehow assumed his mentality for the five minutes it takes to write this crackpot of a journal entry.  And now I digress, the iron doors are slamming and I need to be on other side.

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5.5.05


Ive made a recent priority in my life to exercise certain demons in my life that have just been dead weight for some time.  I do mean to say exercise, rather than exorcise although to a certain extent both apply.  Starting from the top, in the most significant gesture of self help ive awarded my self in a long time, I am leaving the white horse tavern.  Working 80 hours a week for a year and a half certainly takes its toll on you in ever way imaginable.  I am obviously physically exhausted having not slept much at all since I started there.  My lack of freedom definitely aided in the demise of my relationship in the winter, more on that later.  I am extremely tired of missing out on a lot of things because of work, I recently missed some graduation parties because I had to work.  All my friendships I had throughout school have been strained to the max, which leads me to my next "demon."
I miss my friends, I really do.  I miss being close to people.  The only people I talk to anymore are coworkers, my roommates, laura, and her roommates.  They are great people and all and I wouldn't trade them for anyone, but people that I was very close with are almost all but a memory to me.  I recently started reaching out to certain people, jimi james are going to hang out, going to see U2 together, the Rhode Island air show.  Im excited, I went to japan with the kid and I haven't seem him in months and months and months.  Bob-o, haven't seen him either.  We are heading this weekend to see sarah arnold in CT to celebrate her freedom from the educational stronghold that is NU. 
I am out of shape.  I used to run 7 miles a day, play soccer, tennis, you name it I played it.  Believe it or not I used to be actually fairly built.  When my dad had his accident I told him that I would run the boston marathon with him when he does it again.  His recent progress running has basically cemented my belief that he will run it again.  "oh shit, better start getting in shape."  And if this guy can get hit by a car, almost killed, they had to reconstruct his entire leg, and he still runs, why cant i?  so with my new, less work filled schedule, I will be hitting the roads.
Last but not least at all, its been 8 months almost.  Way too long for me to be in the mental state regarding her that I am in.  im tired of thinking about it, tired of everything relating to it.  So if I have to struggle with it, ill at least make it work for me.  Im not going to lament on here anymore about, of course we'll see how well I stick with that promise.  Either way, im using this as a way to solve yet another demon. 
My musical output in this band has been dismal.  The only song that I really had a large, significant hand in the writing of was "saving grace" which is obviously, explicitly about her.  And I love that song, love it to death because it perfectly conveys the way I felt, feel about the whole thing.  But the content of that song really only addresses that actual breaking up, the process of it.  I have 8 more months of coping stored up with no where to go.  So rather than just cry about it, and think about it and just ask myself "when am I going to be okay again?" im going to confront it head on.  Im going to tear myself open and let it out.  Im not going to make any apologies for anything that is said, or for being at times overly morose. im going to kill this demon, not just exorcise it.  This might be a horrendous experience for awhile, and there will probably be nights when I relive everything over and over again, but how else am I ever going to get past it if I don't go directly through it.  My sister gets pissed at me because whenever something happens to me, I always get around it and keep going.  She says that I can "walk through a pile of shit and come out clean on the other side."  I won't let her down.

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4.20.05

lastest article about dad in the Providence Journal:

Porter starting to run again -- 2 years after tragic accident:
Still unable to run 26 miles, he'll go to Boston tomorrow as a cheerleader for his wife -- but with the eventual goal of competing himself.


BY CAROLYN THORNTON
Journal Sports Writer
In perhaps the best shape of his life in the spring of 2003, Tim Porter eagerly anticipated running his fifth Boston Marathon.
Instead, he spent that Patriots' Day lying in the hospital, his left leg shattered, among many other injuries he suffered as a result of being hit by a car while on a training run for the race.
Local entrants. Page C4
Last year on Patriots' Day, while thousands of runners were making the famed run from Hopkinton to Boston, Porter once again found himself in a hospital bed, this time suffering from a severe infection in his damaged leg.
Now, a little over two years after the accident, Porter has managed to avoid any further trips to the hospital and the good news is that not only is he back on his feet, but he's running again.
The progress has been slow, and when he heads up to Boston tomorrow morning, it won't be as runner, but as a cheerleader for his wife, Terry, and other members of the Tuesday Night Turtles running club who are competing in the marathon. But he won't be dwelling on what might have been.
"If you start feeling sorry for yourself in this world, you're going to have a tough time," said Porter, 52, of North Kingstown. "Things happen to us all, and you know what? Life's an adventure. Just go with it. It's not good. It's not bad. This is life. Deal with it."
Along with the support of his family and friends, it is this approach that Porter says continues to get him through the long and painful ordeal that has resulted from his accident, which occurred March 23, 2003, when a car crossed the center line and hit him and running partner Howie Mackey from behind while they were out for a long-distance run near the Scituate Reservoir.
Mackey was killed instantly.
Sideswiped and thrown into a guardrail, Porter suffered fractured vertebrae in his back and neck, a fractured pelvis, broken ribs and a collapsed lung, in addition to his leg injuries.
His recovery has been a mixture of small steps forward and small steps backward. The surgeries have become almost too numerous to count, as steel plates and pins have been inserted and reinserted in an attempt to stabilize and heal his badly injured leg.
Last spring, just when Porter thought he was on the verge of a breakthrough, an infection developed near one of the plates along his tibia. Dr. Peter Trafton sat down with Porter and discussed the possibility of amputating his foot if he discovered the situation was too grave when he went in.
Porter prepared himself for the worst, but although the infection was serious, the foot was spared. After another surgery to remove the plate, more plastic surgery, weeks and weeks of intravenous antibiotics and another bone graft, Porter's doctor gave him the green light to begin putting his full weight on the leg last September.
Although Porter became quite adept at swimming during his rehabilitation -- and still works out up to six days a week at McDermott Pool, in Warwick -- he has been undeterred in his mission to return to running.
And finally, several weeks ago, he did.
Despite completing 52 marathons in his lifetime, Porter felt like he'd never run a day in his life.
"I discovered that I am starting all over, like I was never even an athlete before," said Porter, who went from being under 170 pounds before the accident up to about 224. "I have a new appreciation for people who are trying to become runners and start from scratch. And I have a whole new respect for people trying to lose weight."
Ever since then, on the days when his wife makes a trip from their home to Goddard Park as part of her marathon training, Porter joins their friend, Mags Ross, for a slower version of the loop. A week ago, he did his first six-mile run.
Porter's foot strength is "only about half of what it should be," and his left leg is now a half-inch shorter as a result of all the surgeries, which he says causes him to be "a little discombobulated" and has resulted in some right-hip soreness because of his uneven stride. But last Monday, his foot specialist, Dr. John Volpe, fitted him with an orthotic, which should help his stride.
Although he's only running at about a 12-minute-mile pace, Porter's just thankful that he's back outdoors doing what he loves.
"It's going to take a while, but I have a lot of confidence I will be running pretty close to what I used to do," said Porter, determined to run a marathon again one day. "The hurting part is that I was in such peak shape back then. It's going to take at least a year to even get close to being back to that. But if I've done it once, I can do it again."
Porter pauses before answering another question about his comeback.
As excited as he is about his recent progress, he often reminds himself that as difficult as his obstacles have been at times, they hardly compare with what has befallen the Mackey family. And he doesn't want anyone else to forget that, either.
"I want people to remember that the overwhelming tragedy of that time was not me. It was Howie," said Porter, who feels that even recently passed laws in Rhode Island won't be effective in cracking down on people who drive under the influence or with suspended licenses, both believed to be factors in this particular accident. "And we should never lose sight of that. There were two of us out there that day, and I was the lucky one."

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4.18.05



i learned a lesson tonight. actually i learned awhile ago but i never had the gall to fess up to it. if you have been reading this journal for awhile, you probably know everything about my personal life. youve followed me through a great relationship that ended prematurely and for reasons that i will never agree with. you have read about how infinite my thoughts on love are, were, starting to be. you have this idea that this girl was the end all girl for me, and truth be told you are right. it has been a long time since we split, or even since ive spoken with her. she has moved on, dating someone new, good for her, hope it works out. ive dabbled here and there in the dating thing but it just doesnt feel right. everything feels like its based on pretense and just...forced.

back to the lesson i originally set out to discuss. as said, this girl was IT for me. until recently. i loved her with everything i had, dont make the mistake of taking anything here as a renouncing of everything that i have said in this column in the past. but i have to make an amendment. what originally drew me to her was her beauty. she is a gorgeous, gorgeous woman. she really is. but i see now that she did have her faults, or maybe i had faults when i was with her. either way, i could never get past how good she looked. it made me make excuses for her when i knew deep down that maybe this isnt the best thing in the world. it also made me insecure. whenever i was with her, i always had this nervous bell ringing in the back of my head. i wasnt me around her, just because i felt like i always had to live up to her stature.

i saw a friend of mine tonight that doesnt make me insecure. she does nothing but make me enjoy every minute that i get to see her. is she gorgeous? of course but in more ways than the girl from my past. in short, i learned tonight that while love might consist of everything that i have said in the past, it is nothing if it doesnt let you enjoy yourself, if it doesnt invite you to the party rather than give your friend a ticket with a +1 attached. things cant happen with her now, they could have happened years ago but time can be a funny thing. so far it has worked to my disadvantage. i could go on for quite awhile but this is something that doesnt need embellishment or ornamentation. its all there, so simple and honest, i dont even have the need to justify it.

im such a sap.

tick..tock...tick...tock...tick...tock...



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4.11.05

was anybody listening? was anybody paying any attention at all? more over, does ANYONE own a full length mirror? apparently the usual fashion filter of winter (rhyming not intended) failed to catch the most abrasive fashions of last summer. in fact, they are back with reinforcements, literally.

you might recall i lambasted a large population last year about this time because of the following: flowy skirts, full collar salutes and pink polo shirts. while the flowy crap skirts may have faded into the abyss of memory only to be recalled 5 years from now with the tagline "god what were we thinking" attached, the collar salutes and pink polo shirts have joined forces. not only that...NOT ONLY THAT BUT, they are now joined by other flakey colors. now, i have nothing against the color pink, or yellow, or blue or any color really, however, when they take the form of a polo shirt, are layered on top of each other, and then not one, but BOTH collars are turned skyward, i have a big problem. seriously, what are these people thinking. if they think that it is making some fallical appeal to a womans subconcious, they are poorly mistaken. are they afraid that shrapnel might explode at about neck level and they are in need of protection? i just dont get that shit at all. evolution is failing us everytime you flip that collar up skippy, dont make god hate you more than he already does.

my forecast for the woman this year is easy, there have been 2 days that broke 60 degrees so far and what greeted my eyes but a sea of mini skirts. ladies, if this is your fashion of the summer, let me be the first to say thank you. your efforts are greatly appreciated.

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4.9.05

you may have noticed that my journal went through gastric bypass surgery. the file with all the text of my journals got so big i simply couldnt load it up anymore, so i had to start over. dont fret, the entire journal has been saved and you will be able to access it soon via the archive. thanks to everyone who reads this, i get alot of feedback from people, its nice to know this isnt in vain. send me an email or something, post a message on our message board if you ever have a comment on something ive written.

in other news, may is looking like alot of fun. in addition to all the shows the lgb has, i have three concerts i am going to. i havent been to a big show in awhile and all of a sudden i have three.

ryan adams @avalon may 17

nine inch nails @ orpheum may 12

U2 @ fleet center may 28

i cant wait for the ryan adams show. i have been listening to this guy for years now and have never seen him. everything he churns out is just brilliant. if you havent heard him go to www.ryan-adams.com. the website is about as eccentric as he is but there is a preview of a song off the new album that plays. why do i like him? sad bastard music at its finest.

im hungry

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3.30.05



I had my first lunch back on the wharf today. Lord how I missed that. It's the perfect balance of everything that I love, the smell of the salt water, the roar of the planes landing at logan, warm sunshine, birds flying overhead; it is borderline perfect. I love watching the shape of a gulls wings when they flying, you can see what they are doing, how they change shape depending on how fast they need to go, or for how long they want to glide. Nature is genius.
Watching waves manifest and then hide again reminded me of so many things I used to think about when I sat there months ago. Most of all, it reminded me of the impenetrable infinity vested in the water. Place your finger in the tide and you are instantly connected to the other side of the horizon, to lands and shores you might not ever see with your own eyes. Place your foot in the water and youre almost there. You're touching an English coast framed in white cliffs, an Egyptian river washed in legend, or an open sea embraced as God Itself. It makes the world seem smaller, even if only for a minute. But for that one minute, all your loved ones, your dreams, your goals, they all seem to be sitting right there, right at that fingertip. Distance means nothing at that point, time is the only thing that divides lands and love, lives and hopes.
The same is true of the air, only more so. There is nothing that can escape the presence of the sky. It envelopes everyone and everything. The same air you breathe is the same air your mother breathes, your father, your sister, your idols, your enemies. It has always greeted every person that has ever awoken from the solace of dreams or the depths of hopelessness. As soon as you are thrust into the world you will never be without it. It will seep its way into every place you ever go, even the most cavernous of tunnels. No matter how far you dig, it will still be right there, taking the space the earth once occupied.
Its comforting for me, knowing that everything is there in front of me. With the world seeming smaller, its much easier to grasp and embrace, or maybe even put in my pocket.