Back to the daily grind and a pile of workish emails to go through waiting for the caffeine to kick in after a weekend of anything but the monotony, of what felt like the last chance at a summer vacation, spending the last day riding my bike to the lake to sit on the rocks and walk on the beach, read books on the front porch, make food for the week with the harvest of the garden.
The coffee is bitter without the accompanying conversation, smiling a a reflex, knowing that my face betrays most emotion, trying to laugh at the irony, observing the absurdity and going through withdrawal with the art center being closed this week, wanting to get outside, get out of here.
Showing posts with label summer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label summer. Show all posts
Monday, August 22, 2011
Saturday, August 20, 2011
isla de encanta
Drove up after work just in time for the sunset, walked to the parking lot at the tip of the island by the ferry to watch the red sun dive into the blue water, as a fellow photographer showed us supposed UFOs in the sunset on his iPhone and we gazed in wonder at the swirl of pink and grey clouds uncommonly curvy like Rembrandt models or Georgia O'Keefe paintings.
There was some terrible music coming from the bar up the street and so we decided to investigate and seeing that the Indians/White Sox game was on, my dad and I split a beer, watching the game, and observed the antics of our fellow tourist weekenders. The sound was so loud that we could hear it all the way across the island clearly and the revelers were yelling over the music about the last casinos they visited and talking about WHAT A REALLY GOOD TIME WE'RE ALL HAVING. Some really spacy girl told us she was totally glad that we showed up at this totally awesome party and we both looked confused, because it's just a bar patio full of total strangers with suntans drinking but decided that there would be amusement to be had here.
The singer had karaoke arrangements of 70's and 80's hits and was in the middle of a drunkenly synthesized rendition of "Every Little Thing She Does is Magic" complete with out of key keyboard lines over the prerecorded tinniness. It was like karaoke night with minimal musical accompaniment and enthusiasm that was no subsitute for the lack of real talent, though no one there seemed to mind and were dancing around to "Everybody Wants to Rule the World." He was unsurprisingly decked out in a bright blue Hawaiian shirt and seashell necklace jumping up and down and really getting into it in between talking about how awesome MTV used to be and who his favorite VJs were and his day job which somehow involves the IRS.
My hopes of sitting out on the breakwall under the stars listening to the waves were dashed by continued covers of Black Eyed Peas songs filtering through the trees, but eventually they stopped, and we built a fire and sat out there awhile talking about stuff until we all got tired.
It felt good to sleep in, spend the day in total relaxation, no phone calls, no email, no drama, just sleeping under the trees lulled by the water and the symphonic drone of summer insects, eating peaches, reading Christine de Pizan and Walker Percy, watching great blue herons glide past and clearing my head from all the clatter and chaos of the last few months.
My sister and her family unit came later, and I got to babytalk to the nephew and hang out before heading back debating whether or not I wanted to be introverted or see Jucifer play down the street and opted for the former. It was good to be away, and it's good to have returned. I needed the solitude, needed to contemplate, to cry out to God and try to listen for the intangible yet so real response that keeps my soul alive and from not slipping into total despair at what I see or total distraction to pretend that what I see isn't there. Part of the getaway, the escape, is trying to figure out how to return to the daily grind.
There was some terrible music coming from the bar up the street and so we decided to investigate and seeing that the Indians/White Sox game was on, my dad and I split a beer, watching the game, and observed the antics of our fellow tourist weekenders. The sound was so loud that we could hear it all the way across the island clearly and the revelers were yelling over the music about the last casinos they visited and talking about WHAT A REALLY GOOD TIME WE'RE ALL HAVING. Some really spacy girl told us she was totally glad that we showed up at this totally awesome party and we both looked confused, because it's just a bar patio full of total strangers with suntans drinking but decided that there would be amusement to be had here.
The singer had karaoke arrangements of 70's and 80's hits and was in the middle of a drunkenly synthesized rendition of "Every Little Thing She Does is Magic" complete with out of key keyboard lines over the prerecorded tinniness. It was like karaoke night with minimal musical accompaniment and enthusiasm that was no subsitute for the lack of real talent, though no one there seemed to mind and were dancing around to "Everybody Wants to Rule the World." He was unsurprisingly decked out in a bright blue Hawaiian shirt and seashell necklace jumping up and down and really getting into it in between talking about how awesome MTV used to be and who his favorite VJs were and his day job which somehow involves the IRS.
My hopes of sitting out on the breakwall under the stars listening to the waves were dashed by continued covers of Black Eyed Peas songs filtering through the trees, but eventually they stopped, and we built a fire and sat out there awhile talking about stuff until we all got tired.
It felt good to sleep in, spend the day in total relaxation, no phone calls, no email, no drama, just sleeping under the trees lulled by the water and the symphonic drone of summer insects, eating peaches, reading Christine de Pizan and Walker Percy, watching great blue herons glide past and clearing my head from all the clatter and chaos of the last few months.
My sister and her family unit came later, and I got to babytalk to the nephew and hang out before heading back debating whether or not I wanted to be introverted or see Jucifer play down the street and opted for the former. It was good to be away, and it's good to have returned. I needed the solitude, needed to contemplate, to cry out to God and try to listen for the intangible yet so real response that keeps my soul alive and from not slipping into total despair at what I see or total distraction to pretend that what I see isn't there. Part of the getaway, the escape, is trying to figure out how to return to the daily grind.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
unwinding
Clocking out and driving to the east side to hang out with good people, wander through Coventry, converging to walk down the hill, Tangerine and the Marquess connecting quickly, me and Muk catching up since it's been a couple months and we've both had a lot going on. "It could be a little warmer," he says, nostalgic for warmer climes, but the weather is perfect for me, the perfect balance of sun and breeze, the crowds of people in the street below and despite the vast majority of whiteness, no hassle for our mixed company.
We get food and wander around, relaxed and a bit tired from long days of work, taking in the smells of grease and marinara, the guidos and bright young things, marveling at the imminent dangers of carnival rides near trees and power lines and laughing at the snarky casino runners and the sign for Holy Rosary Fried Dough, before walking up the hill past the cemetery joking about the free fill dirt and Coventry flash mob teenage zombie apocalypse, hanging out in the street watching the kids two doors down sing Lady Gaga songs on the front porch until their parents tell them to shut up, zoning out on the couch in his apartment talking, eating oranges, listening to Nine Inch Nails.
I cleaned off some of my acrylic transfers tonight and did mundane life stuff like grocery shopping and errand-running and making sense of the jumble of accumulation in the apartment.
But I did get a bike ride in, rode through the streets past condos and kids playing in the park to watch the sunset and slow down to take in at least some of the day that was mostly spent running.
We get food and wander around, relaxed and a bit tired from long days of work, taking in the smells of grease and marinara, the guidos and bright young things, marveling at the imminent dangers of carnival rides near trees and power lines and laughing at the snarky casino runners and the sign for Holy Rosary Fried Dough, before walking up the hill past the cemetery joking about the free fill dirt and Coventry flash mob teenage zombie apocalypse, hanging out in the street watching the kids two doors down sing Lady Gaga songs on the front porch until their parents tell them to shut up, zoning out on the couch in his apartment talking, eating oranges, listening to Nine Inch Nails.
I cleaned off some of my acrylic transfers tonight and did mundane life stuff like grocery shopping and errand-running and making sense of the jumble of accumulation in the apartment.
But I did get a bike ride in, rode through the streets past condos and kids playing in the park to watch the sunset and slow down to take in at least some of the day that was mostly spent running.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
mention something, mention anything
A cup of coffee sans snark of family members or fellow peons, errands run, doing the Typical White Person in Gentrified Area Activity of drinking fragrant and rich caffeine in a classy local establishment after buying homemade bread and a cucumber at the farmer's market, wondering if sarcasm is an adequate counterweight to the inevitable caricature as I notice quite a few Priuses with stickers that read "I Heart Yoga." My old station wagon had a Fugazi sticker and such, but somebody stole the FU part of it off while it was resting in the Rapid station parking lot.
The garden is yielding more squash and herbs than one skinny girl can consume, next year I'll make room for more peppers and the like, the sun has returned, and these afternoons of basking have elicited yet more wrinkles in the mirror this morning. I don't fear gray streaks and crows feet like some women, but to watch the process engrave in my skin is strange.
The rain and sun are welcome, though the storm plus unshut windows put in jeopardy my admittedly hodgepodge stereo equipment yesterday (what's up first world problems!) and attempts to beat the storm were late on my part, standing under the Towering Slab watching the lightning strike across the street as streams of water flowed down the streets, shedding shoes to move drenched and barefoot down sidewalks and across streets thankfully not getting hit by errant drivers under the shelter of the fellow peon's umbrella and a plastic bag, driving through the streets of Clevelandia exultant in the cleansing power of water and lightning and rocking out to the dulcet sounds of Faith No More, enjoying the traffic jam because of the pyrotechnics of the sky, sculpting clay, sharing dinner with good people, reading until sleep comes, the sense of anticipation is beautiful.
The garden is yielding more squash and herbs than one skinny girl can consume, next year I'll make room for more peppers and the like, the sun has returned, and these afternoons of basking have elicited yet more wrinkles in the mirror this morning. I don't fear gray streaks and crows feet like some women, but to watch the process engrave in my skin is strange.
The rain and sun are welcome, though the storm plus unshut windows put in jeopardy my admittedly hodgepodge stereo equipment yesterday (what's up first world problems!) and attempts to beat the storm were late on my part, standing under the Towering Slab watching the lightning strike across the street as streams of water flowed down the streets, shedding shoes to move drenched and barefoot down sidewalks and across streets thankfully not getting hit by errant drivers under the shelter of the fellow peon's umbrella and a plastic bag, driving through the streets of Clevelandia exultant in the cleansing power of water and lightning and rocking out to the dulcet sounds of Faith No More, enjoying the traffic jam because of the pyrotechnics of the sky, sculpting clay, sharing dinner with good people, reading until sleep comes, the sense of anticipation is beautiful.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
did you hear something outside?
I had a crew of youth group kids from a small Minnesota town over last night, who brought me blueberries and pizza and we talked about Cleveland and their hometowns and other stuff too. They were nice kids, still wide-eyed and enthusiastic. I felt bad that I have no air conditioning, let the ceiling fans run, opened all the windows and provided a bowl of ice cubes, fruit punch, and popsicles to keep us cool.
I went to sleep early, lulled by the sound of the wind and dead to the world until 1am when I hear an engine roar and a voice screaming 'you're going down, bitch!' and a crackle through the night air that sounds like gunshots but I'm not sure if I'm hallucinating this coming out of the depths of rapid-eye-movement. I wonder if I'm just dreaming, and I try to calm myself, but what are these bright lights?
Police searchlights, going slowly up and down the street, so I'm not dreaming all this, and I sit on my couch and watch the shadows and the light move across my living room wall, whispering to God because who else wants to hear at a crazy hour of the morning and because I feel something resembling actual fear, more at the not knowing what's going on than anything else, and because it's late, I'm tired, and alone.
I'm wide awake. It's 1am and I can't fall asleep, because even the quiet in between the noise of cars feels menacing, and I find myself cringing every time I hear the roar of another souped-up engine, looking out my window to the couple in the car below me wondering what the hell they're doing in front of my house but it looks like it's either some romantic interlude or something else as the dogs downstairs bark and finally after scrawling some terrible verse to release the tension, my brain is tired and I fall back into rest before rising to immerse myself in the mundane, drink coffee, and try to reawaken and shake this off of me.
I went to sleep early, lulled by the sound of the wind and dead to the world until 1am when I hear an engine roar and a voice screaming 'you're going down, bitch!' and a crackle through the night air that sounds like gunshots but I'm not sure if I'm hallucinating this coming out of the depths of rapid-eye-movement. I wonder if I'm just dreaming, and I try to calm myself, but what are these bright lights?
Police searchlights, going slowly up and down the street, so I'm not dreaming all this, and I sit on my couch and watch the shadows and the light move across my living room wall, whispering to God because who else wants to hear at a crazy hour of the morning and because I feel something resembling actual fear, more at the not knowing what's going on than anything else, and because it's late, I'm tired, and alone.
I'm wide awake. It's 1am and I can't fall asleep, because even the quiet in between the noise of cars feels menacing, and I find myself cringing every time I hear the roar of another souped-up engine, looking out my window to the couple in the car below me wondering what the hell they're doing in front of my house but it looks like it's either some romantic interlude or something else as the dogs downstairs bark and finally after scrawling some terrible verse to release the tension, my brain is tired and I fall back into rest before rising to immerse myself in the mundane, drink coffee, and try to reawaken and shake this off of me.
Friday, July 1, 2011
I can't relax 'cause I can't do a thing and I can't do a thing because I can't relax...
The ennui that hits each summer, of sapped spirit and tired eyes simultaneously lonesome-feeling and antisocial. I should be looking forward to days off more than I am but I have a wedding to go to and even when it's for people I love, these kinds of social functions make me nervy, even though I do fine, but by going alone I can come and go depending on how it goes. I enjoy people, but I'm more of an introvert... small gatherings of trusted near and dears always preferable to large groups of acquaintances or strangers.
A detour to the lake instead of going home, running into friends with their grandkids and walking on the rocks, taking pictures of the sunset. Tendrils of grapevines growing over rocks and I pull some touch me not leaves off to show the kids how it turns silvery under the water. We part ways and I drive down the street to do some writing, take in the twilight. A small soul led beside still silver waters and restored.
A detour to the lake instead of going home, running into friends with their grandkids and walking on the rocks, taking pictures of the sunset. Tendrils of grapevines growing over rocks and I pull some touch me not leaves off to show the kids how it turns silvery under the water. We part ways and I drive down the street to do some writing, take in the twilight. A small soul led beside still silver waters and restored.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
these are a few of my favorite things
The cure for the summer blues is the blue of the water, be it communing with the Divine in solitude beneath a willow tree or out adventuring down the stairs to the hidden beach. The proximity of waves and wind, the undulations on the sand and the sunsets, the way the most familiar is always new. I could watch the water for hours and if I was into the whole personal ad thing I could say in all honesty that I dig long walks on the beach, which is not a romantic thing at all, really, just something I enjoy.
When we had no money, we'd come down there, to run barefoot, to roll up our jeans and let the crushed zebra mussels chip away toenail polish, drinking sangria in the pavilion and orange crush on the beach, laying on the rocks under the setting sun, writing messages in the sand to be washed away. So close, and yet such an escape to be in the elements rather than shut in by walls of concrete. I come down here and feel alive again.
There are prettier beaches, and cleaner ones, and we have a lake, no ocean here. The
only ocean I've ever swam in was New Jersey ocean for what it's worth. Maybe I'm not spoiled because I've never seen water so blue and clear that you can see all the way down and I don't know what I'm missing. My connection here is emotional if anything.
I feel most at home when I'm near rust and water, old things that are familiar. I thought the desert was beautiful but I had a strange anxiety looking at the newness and artificiality imposed on a hostile land that blisters in the heat. "It's because rust runs through your veins, it's a part of you" says a friend of mine who knows me well.
The summer is when we come back to life, resurrected by long days and the sun that keeps us alive and eventually kills us. I made dinner the past few nights with the harvest of my garden, the front porch smells of lavender and citronella, the tangle of the seeds scattered has manifested itself.
The creativity has returned to the scarred walls, fresh paint and creative souls, vines growing through the concrete.
Despite all restlessness and grieving the messed-up-ness of the world, there is still joy here and beauty in the strangest places. I can never be bored even if I tried.
When we had no money, we'd come down there, to run barefoot, to roll up our jeans and let the crushed zebra mussels chip away toenail polish, drinking sangria in the pavilion and orange crush on the beach, laying on the rocks under the setting sun, writing messages in the sand to be washed away. So close, and yet such an escape to be in the elements rather than shut in by walls of concrete. I come down here and feel alive again.
There are prettier beaches, and cleaner ones, and we have a lake, no ocean here. The
only ocean I've ever swam in was New Jersey ocean for what it's worth. Maybe I'm not spoiled because I've never seen water so blue and clear that you can see all the way down and I don't know what I'm missing. My connection here is emotional if anything.
I feel most at home when I'm near rust and water, old things that are familiar. I thought the desert was beautiful but I had a strange anxiety looking at the newness and artificiality imposed on a hostile land that blisters in the heat. "It's because rust runs through your veins, it's a part of you" says a friend of mine who knows me well.
The summer is when we come back to life, resurrected by long days and the sun that keeps us alive and eventually kills us. I made dinner the past few nights with the harvest of my garden, the front porch smells of lavender and citronella, the tangle of the seeds scattered has manifested itself.
The creativity has returned to the scarred walls, fresh paint and creative souls, vines growing through the concrete.
Despite all restlessness and grieving the messed-up-ness of the world, there is still joy here and beauty in the strangest places. I can never be bored even if I tried.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
circadian arrhythmia
Thrown off from lack of sleep and then too much, trying to shake the ennui, thirsty and overthinking. I always get like this when the weather heats up, lethargic and lacking. It will pass like it always does.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
cleansing
As the temperature dropped, we came to conclusions brought on by asking questions and sometimes it just clicks, we could feel the breeze come through the front door and we went outside to see the wind and the heat lightning above the houses across the street. Windchimes and car alarms set off by vibrations and noise, airplanes circling looking to land, the thunder rumbling but never shattering, the rain misty as we split a bottle of porter three ways and ate chips and salsa, watching the rain intensify and the lightning bounce from one end to another.
My dad and I used to pull up lawn chairs in the garage, drink Coca-Cola out of a two-liter bottle and listen to classic rock as the storms rolled in. I called him to wish him a happy birthday and that I thought of him and he says he remembers those times and he thought of me too.
When the rain steadies and the lightning ceases to be interesting, we don't need to say anything and can watch, the planes descend and I'm ready to sleep, hoping for more nights like these.
My dad and I used to pull up lawn chairs in the garage, drink Coca-Cola out of a two-liter bottle and listen to classic rock as the storms rolled in. I called him to wish him a happy birthday and that I thought of him and he says he remembers those times and he thought of me too.
When the rain steadies and the lightning ceases to be interesting, we don't need to say anything and can watch, the planes descend and I'm ready to sleep, hoping for more nights like these.
Friday, June 10, 2011
honeyflowers
The parking lot behind me and the abandoned house on the side of me are overgrown with honeysuckle and spearmint that comes up through the ground and squeezes through the slats in the fence. The resulting fragrance of so much scent in a small place is incredible. I picked my first sugar snap peas off the vine last night.
I met up with one of my near and dears in Chinatown after work and we walked around Chinatown catching up on the crazy last couple weeks. We couldn't bear to be in air conditioning after a day of work and the sun was finally benevolent. I want to walk around down there again with a camera and shoot photos of gardens full of bok choy, peonies, and green beans tendrilling around fence wires, industrial buildings, and churches that have seen better days like I did last year when me and the partner in crime were trying to keep it legal.
I've been trying to walk more, realizing that last year I drove when I could have walked or ridden my bike and when I got home I walked up to church to pick music and over to a friend's house around the corner because I'm letting out their puppy while she's gone. They brought the puppy back from Africa with them and it's part basenji and something else (maybe jackal?) and looks like portayals of Anubis in Egyptian tombs. On looking up wild dogs, we came across the New Guinea Singing Dog, which sounds freaky as anything and the cats gave us strange conspiratory looks from the windowsill.
And so tonight I'll be picking up my little sis, who's now carless and boyfriendless, and attempt to be a better older sibling than I've been in the past. I've never really been in her position either way (having not had or lost either at her age) but hopefully I can be there for her somehow...
I met up with one of my near and dears in Chinatown after work and we walked around Chinatown catching up on the crazy last couple weeks. We couldn't bear to be in air conditioning after a day of work and the sun was finally benevolent. I want to walk around down there again with a camera and shoot photos of gardens full of bok choy, peonies, and green beans tendrilling around fence wires, industrial buildings, and churches that have seen better days like I did last year when me and the partner in crime were trying to keep it legal.
I've been trying to walk more, realizing that last year I drove when I could have walked or ridden my bike and when I got home I walked up to church to pick music and over to a friend's house around the corner because I'm letting out their puppy while she's gone. They brought the puppy back from Africa with them and it's part basenji and something else (maybe jackal?) and looks like portayals of Anubis in Egyptian tombs. On looking up wild dogs, we came across the New Guinea Singing Dog, which sounds freaky as anything and the cats gave us strange conspiratory looks from the windowsill.
And so tonight I'll be picking up my little sis, who's now carless and boyfriendless, and attempt to be a better older sibling than I've been in the past. I've never really been in her position either way (having not had or lost either at her age) but hopefully I can be there for her somehow...
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
heat coming down
It was this kind of weather when I came downtown four years ago for a job interview, sweltering on a Prospect Avenue street corner waiting for the 35 in stockings and my sister's suit jacket hoping that this would be worth it. It was, because I'm still gainfully employed and finding that despite the occasional absurdity, that I like what I do, and I keep learning to do more. I feared that my brain would atrophy upon entering the world of work, that I'd be surrounded by vapid discourse waiting desperately to go home, but I'm so thankful I was wrong.
It isn't so bad, really, even the hot sun is so welcoming after such a blast of winter and weeks of rain. Drinking a mango smoothie under the arches in the shadow of a cathedral, feeling just for a moment far away from brutalist architecture and sun bearing down on concrete. There is still beauty to be found here, it's just that one has to look.
It isn't so bad, really, even the hot sun is so welcoming after such a blast of winter and weeks of rain. Drinking a mango smoothie under the arches in the shadow of a cathedral, feeling just for a moment far away from brutalist architecture and sun bearing down on concrete. There is still beauty to be found here, it's just that one has to look.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
cruel suns
Drinking iced tea, chagrined at the thought of my favorite space to write and drink caffeine being up for lease, seeking refuge from the humidity, listening to people try to fall in love, not feeling like playing even slacker renditions of sports on days like this when the thought of lemonade on the front porch not yet covered with the shade of climbing vines, or a shady tree by lake rocks seems like an infinitely better option.
Ambition to create defeated by exhaustion, coming home from family gatherings to pass out on the couch, waking up to humid wind and sound of diesel engines, wanting to lay there indefinitely because I know I will not be able to lift this heaviness from my eyes as I wish it would rain.
Ambition to create defeated by exhaustion, coming home from family gatherings to pass out on the couch, waking up to humid wind and sound of diesel engines, wanting to lay there indefinitely because I know I will not be able to lift this heaviness from my eyes as I wish it would rain.
Monday, May 23, 2011
kitschtacular.
The sun was so bright Saturday, with my stack of CDs and traveling companions, one who was kind enough to provide me with a cup of coffee for the road, driving to the other side of the heart of it all, escaping the haze and smog enveloping the skyline for the greenery of the lands to the west and the clearness of Ashtabula blue sky.
The reason for such ventures was to help out a friend of mine from my Kent days who's getting married to someone truly wonderful. The venue for the reception is a Western-themed steakhouse on which we inflicted Martha Stewart tissue paper puffs of pink and peach. "You're going to love this place. It's kitsch heaven," she tells me and it is, replete with reliquaries of John Wayne bullets, movie posters of films I've never seen, and sculptures of cowboys and Indians.
We channelled Georgia O'Keeffe and stuck white tissue paper flowers in the eyes of the steer's skull over the dining room and tried to make it look girly and wedding-ish. "I think this is awesome, the guests will probably think it's weird..." I'm not really good at this whole party-planning decorations thing so after tying string to big paper puffs, I ended up at the table with her mom's boyfriend and her brother talking urban planning and other territory I'm a little more adept in.
While out in the exotic lands to the west, we took goofy tourist pictures underneath the World's Largest Rocking Chair next to a feed store, and soaked in the miles of green space and open sky.
After the festivities, we drove up to Geneva-on-the-Lake to indulge in even more uber-kitsch. I can't believe I've never been here before, because it's unlike any place I've ever been. It was once the premier getaway for the likes of Henry Ford and the Rockefellers, and my grandparents honeymooned here post WWII. It's hard for me to imagine it as a place that was once genteel. I also can't imagine renting a summer cottage here ever. At least Put-in-Bay has a quiet half of the island. Still, it was a great way to kill an afternoon.
Hot sun, an endless parade of bikers in Harley gear, women with big poofy bleached coiffures, pale teens with green hair and miscellaneous piercings working at the arcades, all manner of greasy food, countless headshops selling tie-dyed t-shirts, blacklight posters, and hippie dresses, and souvenir shops hawking fake wanted posters, hemp necklaces with the stars and bars, and even more biker couture. If you ever wanted a pin that read "I'm a Trucker's Girlfriend," this is the place to get it.
I did, however, score some nice earrings at Gypsy Rose's Mamas and Papas. Every storefront was blaring either country or classic rock, and from one end of the 'Crooked Mile' to the other, I heard Bad Company, Foreigner, Def Leppard, Poison, and Whitesnake.
It seems that back in the day, there were actual good shows to be seen at the Cove, not just cover bands called Bon Journey or whatever incarnation of Skid Row or Mushroomhead that's still touring.
Incidentally, this mural on the side is getting destroyed to make way for new renovations, but I'm glad I shot it before it vanishes.
This totally does not look like Jimi Hendrix.
We did not discover what the Exciting Fascination was.
On the way back, we drove through the vineyards of wine country, though we were all dehydrated and sleepy and didn't feel like being around more partying boomers so we drove back to Clevelandia and I've realized I really don't like driving when it's sunny out, though Kyuss is fantastic driving in the burning sun music.
Came back to feed the kitties, hang out at my apartment with the new neighbors before Muk came over, woke up with sun poisoning and missed church, took my sister to the Hessler Fair, and slacked around with my dad in the basement Sunday night listening to the Thirteenth Floor Elevators. I opened my windows and let the cool night breezes in. Summer is looking hot and beautiful already.
The reason for such ventures was to help out a friend of mine from my Kent days who's getting married to someone truly wonderful. The venue for the reception is a Western-themed steakhouse on which we inflicted Martha Stewart tissue paper puffs of pink and peach. "You're going to love this place. It's kitsch heaven," she tells me and it is, replete with reliquaries of John Wayne bullets, movie posters of films I've never seen, and sculptures of cowboys and Indians.
We channelled Georgia O'Keeffe and stuck white tissue paper flowers in the eyes of the steer's skull over the dining room and tried to make it look girly and wedding-ish. "I think this is awesome, the guests will probably think it's weird..." I'm not really good at this whole party-planning decorations thing so after tying string to big paper puffs, I ended up at the table with her mom's boyfriend and her brother talking urban planning and other territory I'm a little more adept in.
While out in the exotic lands to the west, we took goofy tourist pictures underneath the World's Largest Rocking Chair next to a feed store, and soaked in the miles of green space and open sky.
After the festivities, we drove up to Geneva-on-the-Lake to indulge in even more uber-kitsch. I can't believe I've never been here before, because it's unlike any place I've ever been. It was once the premier getaway for the likes of Henry Ford and the Rockefellers, and my grandparents honeymooned here post WWII. It's hard for me to imagine it as a place that was once genteel. I also can't imagine renting a summer cottage here ever. At least Put-in-Bay has a quiet half of the island. Still, it was a great way to kill an afternoon.
Hot sun, an endless parade of bikers in Harley gear, women with big poofy bleached coiffures, pale teens with green hair and miscellaneous piercings working at the arcades, all manner of greasy food, countless headshops selling tie-dyed t-shirts, blacklight posters, and hippie dresses, and souvenir shops hawking fake wanted posters, hemp necklaces with the stars and bars, and even more biker couture. If you ever wanted a pin that read "I'm a Trucker's Girlfriend," this is the place to get it.
I did, however, score some nice earrings at Gypsy Rose's Mamas and Papas. Every storefront was blaring either country or classic rock, and from one end of the 'Crooked Mile' to the other, I heard Bad Company, Foreigner, Def Leppard, Poison, and Whitesnake.
It seems that back in the day, there were actual good shows to be seen at the Cove, not just cover bands called Bon Journey or whatever incarnation of Skid Row or Mushroomhead that's still touring.
Incidentally, this mural on the side is getting destroyed to make way for new renovations, but I'm glad I shot it before it vanishes.
This totally does not look like Jimi Hendrix.
We did not discover what the Exciting Fascination was.
On the way back, we drove through the vineyards of wine country, though we were all dehydrated and sleepy and didn't feel like being around more partying boomers so we drove back to Clevelandia and I've realized I really don't like driving when it's sunny out, though Kyuss is fantastic driving in the burning sun music.
Came back to feed the kitties, hang out at my apartment with the new neighbors before Muk came over, woke up with sun poisoning and missed church, took my sister to the Hessler Fair, and slacked around with my dad in the basement Sunday night listening to the Thirteenth Floor Elevators. I opened my windows and let the cool night breezes in. Summer is looking hot and beautiful already.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
vacay and birthday
It's rare that I get out of Cleveland, but me and the roommate didn't get to Detroit so the islands were the next best thing. We slept, took walks around the island and into the creepy nature preserve woods, ate mulberries off of trees in people's front yards, sat on the rocks, played some Celtic music for the neighbors, and roasted marshmallows. Also discovered that long slices of banana mashed in with s'mores might be the best thing ever.
I love that the interior here is straight out of 1960 in the best way possible.
24 hours was perfect to rejuvenate us and we took the long way home down Route 2, stopping in Oberlin, driving through Lorain, and taking a walk through the Metroparks before heading back into Cleveland to get her viola fixed and so I could stop by my parents' to hang out on the back porch and give my dad his birthday gift of Jimi's "Valleys of Neptune."
We sat in his little room in the basement with the pictures of us kids and the posters on the wall listening to wailing guitar and that amazing voice from a man who never thought he could sing. He told me that his friends from high school had seen him open for Janis Joplin but that he found that Mercedes Benz song so annoying that he didn't go.
It's hard to think of him as being born halfway through the last century because he still seems frozen in time to me, with his love of playing basketball, watching Indians games, playing guitar and cranking up Led Zeppelin records in the basement, his hair still as black as it always was to the point where people ask him what dye he uses not knowing that he hardly ever combs it let alone does anything else...
I love that the interior here is straight out of 1960 in the best way possible.
24 hours was perfect to rejuvenate us and we took the long way home down Route 2, stopping in Oberlin, driving through Lorain, and taking a walk through the Metroparks before heading back into Cleveland to get her viola fixed and so I could stop by my parents' to hang out on the back porch and give my dad his birthday gift of Jimi's "Valleys of Neptune."
We sat in his little room in the basement with the pictures of us kids and the posters on the wall listening to wailing guitar and that amazing voice from a man who never thought he could sing. He told me that his friends from high school had seen him open for Janis Joplin but that he found that Mercedes Benz song so annoying that he didn't go.
It's hard to think of him as being born halfway through the last century because he still seems frozen in time to me, with his love of playing basketball, watching Indians games, playing guitar and cranking up Led Zeppelin records in the basement, his hair still as black as it always was to the point where people ask him what dye he uses not knowing that he hardly ever combs it let alone does anything else...
Sunday, August 16, 2009
dog days
There was everything going on this weekend as far as fun city stuff goes, but it was enough for me to hang out with an endless succession of people who rock my world. My sister's bachelorette party was a success, and us girls had a lovely night at Lakewood Park eating hummus and watching the sunset. My cousin came in from Columbus and I got to see him the next day. English class started again for the kids, and it's now a little more structured, so far so good.
Some friends from Ethiopian church had a cookout at Edgewater that we went to, spicy grilled lamb and such. Muk rode his bike over after work and we hung out, lay down on the rocks to bask in the sun, were massively entertained by the little kids daring each other to pop 3 Warheads candies at once and telling each other "These are so awesome! They're TOXIC!"
Drove down to Kent for the wedding reception of some friends who are moving to Salt Lake City so it'll be awhile before I see them again.
I haven't seen everyone in forever and it felt like a family reunion. All the little babies I remember are running around and they've got younger siblings I haven't met. We're all trying to catch each other up on the last three years since I moved out of Kent and back to Cleveland.
The last time I saw some of these people was when I still lived down there, and others saw me last when I was dealing with some serious post-college underemployment-related depression so I was glad at least to be bringing some good news. And it was good to see everyone having a good time and doing well.
I only work two days this week, and then I'll be driving south with a stop in Mansfield to see my good friend Ryan and catch an MST3k movie with my cousin, who will be riding back with me for the rehearsal dinner for my sister's wedding. Should be good times. Wedding season has turned out to be fun.
Some friends from Ethiopian church had a cookout at Edgewater that we went to, spicy grilled lamb and such. Muk rode his bike over after work and we hung out, lay down on the rocks to bask in the sun, were massively entertained by the little kids daring each other to pop 3 Warheads candies at once and telling each other "These are so awesome! They're TOXIC!"
Drove down to Kent for the wedding reception of some friends who are moving to Salt Lake City so it'll be awhile before I see them again.
I haven't seen everyone in forever and it felt like a family reunion. All the little babies I remember are running around and they've got younger siblings I haven't met. We're all trying to catch each other up on the last three years since I moved out of Kent and back to Cleveland.
The last time I saw some of these people was when I still lived down there, and others saw me last when I was dealing with some serious post-college underemployment-related depression so I was glad at least to be bringing some good news. And it was good to see everyone having a good time and doing well.
I only work two days this week, and then I'll be driving south with a stop in Mansfield to see my good friend Ryan and catch an MST3k movie with my cousin, who will be riding back with me for the rehearsal dinner for my sister's wedding. Should be good times. Wedding season has turned out to be fun.
Monday, July 20, 2009
what it is...
Drove out to Oberlin on Friday night for a birthday party, where I caught up with long lost friends and we played games and blew off smoke bombs in the front yard. Doesn't seem like we leave Cuyahoga County very often and the change of scene was refreshing. Mukhtar brought along the new Mos Def album which made great soundtrack music.
Stopped over to see the family on Saturday morning as usual, got some chill time at the house, had some unexpected company over, and watched the Indians lose with my dad. Still, it was a nice night out, good for baseball, and the free hot dogs were appreciated.
Went over to Swahili church for the first time in about a month because I was missing everyone so much. They had a party afterwards that I stayed for, good food and good people. It was a perfect day for driving, and since I hang out on the west side everyone was rocking their Puerto Rican flags all over... low rider cars and reggaeton and flags everywhere. Me and Alex ended up going out to Huntington Beach to chill on the rocks and watch the sunset and the city lights come on. It was just so perfect out.
When it's like this, I don't want to sleep. The days are beautiful and the nights even more. I know how short this time is, and I just don't want to miss it.
Stopped over to see the family on Saturday morning as usual, got some chill time at the house, had some unexpected company over, and watched the Indians lose with my dad. Still, it was a nice night out, good for baseball, and the free hot dogs were appreciated.
Went over to Swahili church for the first time in about a month because I was missing everyone so much. They had a party afterwards that I stayed for, good food and good people. It was a perfect day for driving, and since I hang out on the west side everyone was rocking their Puerto Rican flags all over... low rider cars and reggaeton and flags everywhere. Me and Alex ended up going out to Huntington Beach to chill on the rocks and watch the sunset and the city lights come on. It was just so perfect out.
When it's like this, I don't want to sleep. The days are beautiful and the nights even more. I know how short this time is, and I just don't want to miss it.
Monday, September 29, 2008
wade in the water
My weekend was pretty low-key, sleeping and hanging out with the extended family. My cousins are all getting older and going off to college so there's fewer of us, but those of us who are there have a good time together. Working on an Ethiopian song with our friend Exodus for Sunday morning, learning lyrics in Amharic, trying not to butcher the pronounciation. Beautiful stuff, realizing how locked into Western music my playing is as I find myself discovering new chord voicings and rhythms.
But this weekend finished out beautifully with two of my favorite people at Edgewater Park. I never knew about the trail down to the beach from the top part until yesterday. Even though it's September, it still felt like summer, and we hung out there until almost sunset, leaving our shoes on the shore, rolling up our jeans, and walking along where the waves meet the sand, digging our feet in, letting the water wash over, writing words in the sand.
It was one of those moments that just felt like perfection, with the light golden over the skyline and the sun setting behind us.
But this weekend finished out beautifully with two of my favorite people at Edgewater Park. I never knew about the trail down to the beach from the top part until yesterday. Even though it's September, it still felt like summer, and we hung out there until almost sunset, leaving our shoes on the shore, rolling up our jeans, and walking along where the waves meet the sand, digging our feet in, letting the water wash over, writing words in the sand.
It was one of those moments that just felt like perfection, with the light golden over the skyline and the sun setting behind us.
Monday, August 4, 2008
action-packed
hanging out with yeliz, rosa, and other good people. thai food and lakewood park. lake erie was so beautiful and blue and we were all sitting on the rocks.
i seem to be ending up in coventry a lot more recently this time on friday night for a skateboard art show where erika was doing her dj thing. ran into a lot of people i knew, met new people who were awesome. john came up there around 11 and me him and paul went to my friends at 2:30 in the morning for food and continued good conversation. got home at 5am thankful that i had another day of weekend still to burn.
found some good stuff at the lakewood library booksale, hung out over at paul's, playing guitars and listening to music, talking on the phone on the front porch while danny is singing puccini opera numbers upstairs, green tea with ginseng, random good conversation, laying down good beats and gorgeous grooves for brian to freestyle over. creating yet another elaborate inside joke, this time involving "space midgets."
felt so relaxed and chilled out, just so good to be laughing and being creative and using each of these beautiful august nights for something beautiful and worthwhile.
i seem to be ending up in coventry a lot more recently this time on friday night for a skateboard art show where erika was doing her dj thing. ran into a lot of people i knew, met new people who were awesome. john came up there around 11 and me him and paul went to my friends at 2:30 in the morning for food and continued good conversation. got home at 5am thankful that i had another day of weekend still to burn.
found some good stuff at the lakewood library booksale, hung out over at paul's, playing guitars and listening to music, talking on the phone on the front porch while danny is singing puccini opera numbers upstairs, green tea with ginseng, random good conversation, laying down good beats and gorgeous grooves for brian to freestyle over. creating yet another elaborate inside joke, this time involving "space midgets."
felt so relaxed and chilled out, just so good to be laughing and being creative and using each of these beautiful august nights for something beautiful and worthwhile.
Friday, July 18, 2008
festive.
it was too hot to hang out in the apartment, so me and the roommate went out to coventry to meet up with kent for the coventry street fair. i have a love/hate relationship with coventry depending on what's going on when i'm out that way, but in this case it was a good time. soft-serve ice cream, stiltwalkers, street magicians, breakdancers, karate demos, jazz combos, the obligatory jam band and bob marley's greatest hits pulsing down the street, and the always amusing spectacle of hippie women dancing as only hippie women can. not to mention my friend's little brothers attempting to emulate the karate in the back yard.
walked around, hung out, ate ice cream, people-watched, soaked in summer. it felt like my weekend began early.
walked around, hung out, ate ice cream, people-watched, soaked in summer. it felt like my weekend began early.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
duuuuude...
so last night it was beautiful and me and the roommates were feeling like doing something, so we drove downtown underneath the bridges where the amphitheater is and treated ourselves to a free half hour of robert plant, alison krauss, and t-bone burnett.
tickets for this event were too pricey for yours truly (who's still choking over that jacked-up gas bill we got this month) but by parking near the old machine shops and the power station and sitting on the ledge of an old bridge up there, we could hear everything just fine. it was us and this hippie couple who came prepared with food and citronella candles, and while the drums were somewhat muddy, everything else sounded good and the weather was perfect. we didn't have to deal with standing under a huge tarp with a whole lot of other people or any of the occasional lameness that comes from overenthusiastic and inebriated concertgoers in large groups.
chilled there for awhile and listened to the encore. didn't get any zeppelin but that's not too surprising. just hearing robert plant's voice for real though was surreal enough as it is, especially hearing that famous spinal tap line "Helloooo Cleveland!" at least three times in the half hour we were down there.
like the cleveland indians parking garage venture of last year, i've found another way to keep us inexpensively and immensely entertained.
tickets for this event were too pricey for yours truly (who's still choking over that jacked-up gas bill we got this month) but by parking near the old machine shops and the power station and sitting on the ledge of an old bridge up there, we could hear everything just fine. it was us and this hippie couple who came prepared with food and citronella candles, and while the drums were somewhat muddy, everything else sounded good and the weather was perfect. we didn't have to deal with standing under a huge tarp with a whole lot of other people or any of the occasional lameness that comes from overenthusiastic and inebriated concertgoers in large groups.
chilled there for awhile and listened to the encore. didn't get any zeppelin but that's not too surprising. just hearing robert plant's voice for real though was surreal enough as it is, especially hearing that famous spinal tap line "Helloooo Cleveland!" at least three times in the half hour we were down there.
like the cleveland indians parking garage venture of last year, i've found another way to keep us inexpensively and immensely entertained.
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