freestylin'

Last night Kelly and I saw the Roots play one of only a few dates out all year. Two shows in DC, a couple here, a couple there.

It was true freestylin', a sincere and deep understanding of music played out as if they were playing a small club in Philly. These guys like (playing) live and live likes them.

The sincerity driven by a co-bass arrangement with a sousaphone and electric bass and accentuated by their flamboyant guitarist and expressive keyboardist (where was the other?).

All this rests under the voice and rhythm and it is from that interplay, that the actual voice of the band, or rather, the man who keeps the time, emerges.

Check him out on Twitter @questlove or go here.

Brilliant musician. Fantastic night

How 'bout a little taste.

The World just chugs along

When I was a kid my best friend Mike Hudson and I created an unspoken bond of observing how obvious guys were. Guys on TV or guys from the mall. Later that "philosophy" grew to both men and women (girls and boys)  and we ended up reducing the essence of that which was obvious female and male to something unpronounceable as words but recognizable upon witnessing. To that end, anyone within the DC area who knows me is free to ask and I will both perform and explain their individual meanings.

Oddly though as we both grew older and geographically apart we seemed to stay a little too close to the "me vs. them" attitude we developed regarding how we saw ourselves in regards to women as well as the guys I was supposedly competing with.

At this point I stop talking as if I know how Mike feels so the rest is me.

I think it's just amazing that it took me this long to realize the false set of standards I helped to set and what they meant to me. Not false in a bad way, more like realizing that the line I drew wasn't that far off the line most everyone else walked but because of my choice I seemed to miss out on some things that I find myself envious of in the immediate and others that open wider thoughts that glide towards the temptations of memory.

I also understand the true and unmeasurable benefits that have always come my way because I am the man I am, even up to the present. Dunno, maybe it's like something I wrote in a diary twenty years ago (so be kind), "Everyone thinks the grass is always greener .... (you know) and I all I want to be the grass under the fence."

Seems sometimes in order to realize you're the grass under the fence you have to peer over the side yourself from time to time, just to be reminded.

Gimme, gimme, gimme

Just left Chuck E Cheese where I has left a leather jacket that someone actually returned.
Score: 1/2 - 1/2 in favor of decency because when they called to let me know the jacket was there they said "Great! Any chance to get you back into this vortex of shrillness!"

Waiting patiently in line for manager when this little, pudgy kid cuts in front and says to the poor kid working for nothing, "Gimme this, gimme that..." No, excuse me sir or anything.

Dad comes up, observes, and says nothing.

Score 2 1/2 - 1/2 current tally in favor of selfishness.

Conclusions?

Gay marriage

When I was living in San Francisco we had two friends, Brian and Sylvain who lived nearby and would throw the best dinner parties.

Brian, who was from California was the flamboyant one whereas Sylvain, who was from France, was the steady, responsible one. They were two really nice guys who were in love and enjoying the successes of their lives.

One day we got a call that Sylvain had had a brain aneurysm and his chance of survival was minimal. He was 33 at the time. We all took turns at the hospital in order to allow Brian to get himself together as well as home stuff AND the possibility that he might lose his love.

Why this backstory? Because, it turns out that Sylvain recovered with only some minor speech and motor skill loss and Brian, who up to this point had been the first one to belly up to the bar or to roll certain leaves in paper IMMEDIATELY transformed and became the responsible one and I was witness to one of the most loving relationships I've ever seen. One of true sacrifice and tenderness.

I think of them whenever some sheep headed religioso tries to tell me that God hates gays and lesbians and that it is against his law to marry. In those two men I saw more love and compassion than a van full of church goers and their narrow, judging ways.

And hey, if everything they say turns out to be true and that we're all wrong then may I cut ahead in line for Hell because screw that kind of Heaven.

What do you think?

Not that I want to become a walking set of Loteria cards but before I had the little Devil put on my right arm I was going to get this one. But first, a little back story.


My Dad had tats all over. He even had a huge Clipper ship on his chest which must have hurt like a MF.

Anyway, on his arm he had a topless Hawaiian grass dancer that I used to stare at when I was a little kid and it's because of that I was thinking of Sirena.

I think she's really cool and am thinking of doing it soon.

What do you think?

Made it!

It's been an interesting ride trying to come up with interesting material for the last month but I did it. One unintended part of the learning is I discovered how I really do seem to fall into experiences, perhaps because I learned a long time ago there is no shame is screwing up. In fact, the essence of learning is equal to ones willingness to take a chance, to risk being an "asshole" (something my friends know comes quite easy to me).

Will I continue now that I don't have NaBloPoMo hovering over me? Guess you'll have to keep checking to find out.

Plain Ken by day but.....

You know, him. Barbie's playmate and all around man-about-town, right? Ever wonder what Ken does at night when the toy chest has been closed? Beware or Behold!!

Orgasm Man! Known to users of Viagra by the gold "O" on his chest and the card he leaves after another satisfied customer, "Le Jacqueshammer."

Not to be confused with Jacques Hammer and affiliated in no way with him.

Mom(s)

Here's mine (with me and my brother). Goddess of a woman. She is, and was, among many other things ...... Glue, sweat, sacrifice, kind, loving, unappreciated, a mystery.

How's that list stack up against your Mom's list or the list of current Mom's you know? Bet there are more than a few similarities if you're honest with yourself.

My Mom was forced to transform from a shy, unassuming girl into the foundation for three boys (that would be two sons and one father), each with their own sense of boyness. She wanted children in the 50s yet was out the door soon after the births to pursue her career and act as the main breadwinner, balancing I'm sure, the insecurities my Dad must have felt at not being the consistent head of the house (although he acted the part). Tough, deft, subtle responses meant to keep as much order in the house as possible. It was amazing be the recipient of it then and amazing now when I see it before me.

Two days after Thanksgiving I want to turn the volume up again today and say thanks, not only to my Mom, but to all Mom's out there. It is 24/7 and mainly a thankless deal.

Thank you.

BTW, Guys, I think it looks like they enjoy it all the time but they actually don't. Take from that what you will.

More like Red Friday (post-thanksgiving)

Wednesday

Today

What's next?

Happy Thanksgiving! (volume's up)

Thanksgiving should be about turning up the stereo on a song we play everyday.

Dinner Program for Homeless Women

For four years in the 90's I served as Kitchen Manager for the Dinner Program for Homeless Women, a non-profit dedicated to providing a fresh, hot dinner as well as multiple services designed to help those who wanted to help themselves get off the street and begin to construct a different life.

It was an amazing experience. As KM, my job was to take food donated by the local DC Food Bank, offerings from the USDA and others, and create a restaurant quality meal for roughly 65 women five nights a week.

Our goal was to build the dinners in the kitchen, plate them, and individually serve each woman as if they were in a restaurant. To achieve this we had a rotating schedule of 20 different volunteer groups. Students, lawyers, retired people, church groups, a gay and lesbian group, judges, teachers, etc. What was great for me each night was I got a chance to talk with this diverse cross-section of people representing DC and I had such an insight into the neighborhoods, politics and ways of DC life.

One day, back when I was a waiter Phyllis Richman, then the food critic for the Washington Post, came in to review the food for the Hotel Washington. Since I never took the job of being a waiter seriously I didn't listen to the Chef's description for his food that day so when Phyllis came in guess who got her! When she asked what was in the dish I pulled a list of various ingredients out of my ass, made it sound gourmet, and took her order. Thank God that food reviewers know they are going to have one bad experience at a restaurant so they come three times. I was the bad experience.

Phyllis Richman

Fast forward a few years and one day here comes Phyllis strolling into my kitchen asking if she could help. She was a devoted volunteer the entire time I was there. One day I told her about the time I waited on her and she thought that was the best. Phyllis, thanks. You were a good friend and a selfless volunteer.

On the flip side, there were other things that happened as a result of working with the homeless. The "companions" of the women, men, would hover outside the program and have their "friends" sneak food out, which was not allowed. One time, this guy burst in, effed up on drugs and was making noise. At that time I was the only male employee so I went up to him, explained the rules, and asked him to leave. His response was to put a blade to my throat and he kept asking me if he should use it. I politely replied, "no thank you" and after a few tense moments he put the knife away and left.

On this eve of Thanksgiving I wanted to say to those who may want to volunteer their time to help these people who have been cast aside from daily life to please do so....just NOT on Thanksgiving and Christmas only. All you are doing is making yourself feel better. You are not helping those in need and you crowd the kitchens for one day. Like one day of service is gonna change the world.

Go to a kitchen on a Tuesday night, in the middle of November when it's cold and rainy and ask what you can do. Then come back the following week or month like Phyllis did. Then, you'll get a sense of what service is and how it benefits the people you serve as well as you.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

The cassette tape that changed my life

One night, during my stint at the University of Cincinnati my friend Frank Buckner and I were going out, probably for beers. Frank was studying graphic design while the rest of us had our heads buried in books. One night I was in his room and thought to myself how cool it was that he could listen to music while doing his homework because his homework was drawing. I remember being envious because even though I hadn't cultivated a personal view of music (I was still just a sheep getting his music feed from radio) I still loved music.

So, Frank stopped by my room and as we left I decided to throw a cassette into my stereo and record a UC student's music show on Frank's recommendation.

That one tape proved to be the foundation (in a Kevin Bacon degrees of separation kind of way) for everything I either listen to or take a chance on now.

The foundation of the tape was Roxy Music from which came Brian Eno, which turned eventually into New Wave. Peter Gabriel, from which came both Progressive rock as well as International (or World) Music as well as experimental stuff which guided me through the upcoming downtown New York scene (Lounge Lizards, Klaus Nomi, etc).

Had it not been for that tape who knows what crap I and the rest of the non-challenged music world would be listening to. Sometimes, the search for bottomless knowledge doesn't just come to you. In fact, with anything qualitative you have to work and spike yourself a little.

Or not...Don't worry, the TV programmers know what you want. And if they don't, they will create the need FOR you so just sit back and relax.

Tech lust

Just a month after 9/11/01 Apple released to the world the iPod. A week later they showed up at the San Francisco Apple User group held at the beautiful Exploratorium. Burning head-to-toe with tech lust I attended so I could see for myself this little device which still had yet been released to the public.

That's me in the center wearing the green sweater. In the hand of the guy in front of me (making me second in line) is a just announced but not yet released first generation 5GB iPod. Another minute and my lust would be temporarily satiated until I could get home and place an order for one, which I, of course, did.

It was such a thrill then to get on a train and watch the tech lust spread about the area as people tried their best to catch a look at this device causing so much buzz. And, since most people use Windows, a device they could not use. The first gen iPod was Mac only if you remember and only those 3% of the computer user population could fully use one. I guess the other 97% could have bought one to look at but...

Eight years and eight iPods later I finally got an iPhone. 

Grace Church

For a couple of years in the late 80's I lived in the house you can barely see to the left of the church. Not as a homeless person, mind you but I was gainfully employed as the Church's Sexton. A term almost as misleading as Priest. For those who don't know I was the maintenance man for the church. In exchange for daily maintenance of buildings and grounds and a special sweep though on Saturday night I was paid $100 and was given room and board above the Rector's office.

Looking over the shoulder of the saxophonist there are three windows. The one to the left was my bedroom, the middle my bathroom and the last was one of three windows that wrapped around the turret in my one room, all-purpose studio/kitchen.

It was an AMAZING experience. There are a few more than slightly incriminating things that happened there (I was lucky it was Episcopalian, very forgiving and good solid "word" followers), however, I cannot this night write about some of my adventures there. I will throw out some keywords, however: Burglary, deception, drunkenness, whores, drugs, art. muggings, free jazz, bistros, waiter, three-way, friendship, horizon's theater, actors and actresses, food, blues alley, the bayou, the biograph, the key theater. There are more... Perhaps, one day, I will elaborate on some of these truths and half-truths.

 

One part of the job I wish I could have done was the bell-ringer. Totally get into the Quasimodo stuff. That would have rocked. Given the number of Sunday mornings I slept through, overtaken with the Irish flu it's definitely good it really didn't happen.

The lost art of Album art

Before music downloads made getting music into your life much easier and even before the advent of the CD there used to be this thing called the LP (QUIZ: Who knows what LP stands for?)

With the reduction in size of the delivery method the need to spend time designing the cover has gone with it. Case in point.

The first example is from U2's latest collection of tunes. The cover was specifically designed with an iPod-like screen in mind. Given those limited parameters the design works but in the larger picture, is not nearly as expressive as the next example.

Next is Ornette Coleman's "Free Jazz" record which was a gatefold release. What's that mean? It means the album folded open like a book to reveal large amounts of supportive text AND this:

A faithful reproduction of Jackson Pollock's White Light from 1954. You tell me which is more fun to look at.

Or how about "Mingus Ah Um?" Tell me anyone would consider this if their canvas was an iPod.

Part of the experience of buying and listening to music used to be the idea of coming home, putting the record on and then reading the liner notes as well as ingesting the artwork.

Sadly, that information, when it's available, usually comes in the form of a separate and downloadable pdf. Not the same experience.

I miss those days.

Pre-Photoshop photoshopping

A "retouch" in Stalinist Russia was another word for murder. At top we see Stalin with a trusted colleague and below Stalin alone. Guess he lost trust with his colleague.

It happened often.

Breasts

When I was a kid my equally shy friend Mike Hudson and I were, I think, fairly acute observers of the life that spun around us. Possibly because, up to this point he are I had a total of probably three girls we went out with occasionally (OK, Mike had all three of those dates but that's besides the point) from the age of say 10-18. Surmise away, my astute readers, yes I was still a virgin and I mean kisses.

Anyway, Mike and I should have grown up writing comedy. There are others who I connect with on a funny level that's equally as strong but Mike and I should have written it down.

One year we were able to scam our way out of art class by working a deal with the teacher. If we could produce a collection of stories we were excused from class so that we could seek "inspiration." Both Mike and I were the starting guards on a independent high school basketball team so we would head to the auditorium of our school and shoot baskets. I think we started working maybe two or three weeks before it was due and the finished product was "The Mortimer Snerd Coloring Book" which was a collection of jokes we wrote or stole and drew characters for and then assembled it as a flip coloring book.

We got an H that semester. Wait, what? H??? Yes, for two years in the Lakewood school system the administration implemented a "progressive" grading system and H stood for honors which was a cut above an A. Oh, by the way, we beat the conference champion varsity basketball team in a summer league game in Senior year.  We were an extremely competitive, shy group of guys.

What about the breasts? You implore.

Once Mike and I noticed while watching live TV some guy totally sleaze a split second look at some girls breasts the minute she looked away and finding it really funny. "Check it out! Did you see that guy check her tits out? Hee, hee." Cut some slack, we were prob 13 or 14.

To this day I can't help but notice when it happens (image above from Late Night with Jimmy Fallon). By the way, I took the screenshot for this posting. I'm not on some cultural anthropologist.

Then, in my mid-20's I dated a woman who was very endowed and she told me once how annoying it was to have such big breasts because the minute a man looked she felt like her intellectual capacity had been taken from her. "He talked to my boobs but didn't listen to my voice."

One time when my Mom was 16 she cut school to see Frank Sinatra perform and she and her friend were able to convince the local promotor to let them interview Frank for their school newspaper so she got backstage. Anyway, as she was leaning against a wall Frank's drummer, Buddy Rich, a Jazz legend was walking by. When he saw my Mom he stopped and said to her face, "Hey, nice knockers!" She told me that she wanted to crawl away she was so embarrassed.

Now that I'm older I find it more interesting how people on TV aren't REALLY supposed to act like normal people (insert unwritten code) even though they're supposed to be acting like they ARE. Though I have to admit, I still watch TV shows and keep my eye on the male actors eyes to see if he will sneak a peek.

Is it a glimpse of humanity in an otherwise plastic place or deafness? Hmmmmm.

My buddy Liam

Tonight I got to attend his 4th birthday celebration. He and his sister Thea were resplendent in their newly made capes. Thea even took their letters (T and L) and created new superhero's, Thunder Woman and Lightning Man. Awesome stuff.

No, he's my buddy cause he made his Mom send me this Wooly Willy composition because he drew me and I had to see it. I was so inspired by his insight that I've decided to add it to my "which is me" collage from a previous post. Thanks Liam and Happy Birthday!

Modern Life

Am I the only one who sees this when I am out shopping or driving or eating. I'm sure that those of you who read this will agree that service, social politeness and community have pretty much gone by the wayside in the last decade or so. Who hasn't walked up to a counter to buy something only to encounter the checkout person talking on their cell phone the entire time, sometimes not even acknowledging you or passed someone on any highway going 45 mph in the fast lane because they had to flip their omelette while shaving and texting.

What's worse is we don't complain. Why? Cause it's so pervasive. Standards have been systematically lowered so fast and so low we just place our stuff on the counter, pull out our phones and secularize ourselves as well.

I think Modern Life needs an anthem. How 'bout closing by letting the spudboys do the talking.

Devo - Beautiful World 

Will I ever learn?

Has there ever been a more rhetorical question asked! Last night a bunch of friends went to see DEVO at the 930 Club here in DC. It was seriously one of the best shows I've ever seen. They performed "Q: Are we not men? A: We are DEVO in its entirety and they were ON!!!

Unfortunately, with any ON there must be an OFF and my ability to say no to another glass of Bourbon was totally off last night. So, the image above captures not only how I feel but how I look, think and act.

As a public service please review the next graphic. I started to use it as a checklist for my maladies but I soon realized that I could answer yes to every one. If you stop by or call me please try and whisper and if you email me, please, no CAPS.

Ow!

Click to review

chew - the parasite

Click to be able to read it.

In the mid-nineties my life literally changed when I went from cooking for homeless women to writing in this strange new language called HTML for the National Museum of American Art (Smithsonian American Art Museum, now). That is a story for another time. Today I'm writing about a group of people I worked with then who, together, created a "webzine" called "chew - the parasite." I met and have kept in sporadic touch with a few of these mavericks, all of whom have branched off into interesting lives.

One of the things each of us asked ourselves to write was our chew manifesto (image above). I think today, on November 15, it's interesting to go back and read this and see what applies to the present.

Anything here vibe with you? Let me know.

Another interesting outcome from this thing called the Internet is how I've grown alongside it. I still work on the web, serving as Head of Web and Digital Technology for the National Museum of African Art but back then, it truly was a wild west full of cowgirls and boys making things up as they went along, some of those ideas still appearing on todays web.

As lives branch away and we get older it seems to parallel the emergence of what is called Social Media. It's as though the people it evolved with, anticipating their needs, just abandoned it to a new generation of connection literates and their reality TV. Kids, who use these medias the way we make breakfast or put gas in our cars.

For those of us who have grown alongside the net we've been available when these new technologies talk to us. Case in point, a few months back I re-connected through Facebook with one of my best friends from the chew days. You know her as KellyGo.

Eh, seems the Manifesto does apply in some cases.

World's Best dogfood

THE best fast food in the world can only be found in Ohio and Kentucky. What is this magic food that takes a few minutes to order and negative minutes to eat every time I'm in Cleveland?

Skyline Chili. What it is is ground beef ground really fine with cinnamon added (the secret ingredient). That is layered on spaghetti noodles and you have your choice of cheese (a three-way), cheese and onions (a four-way -- my favorite) or cheese, onions and beans (a five-way).

It is either revered or hated by those who try it but it will always be, either way, my favorite fast food.

Why is it called the World's Best dogfood? Guess you'll have to visit Cleveland and see for yourself.

Super hero

When I was a kid you really only had a few choices when it came time to dress up in costume. Batman, Superman, Frankenstein, etc.

Today, kids can dress like Bernie Madoff if they want to.

What was my secret desire? Who, if I could have, would I have dressed up as?

No debate: The Flash. The coolest thing about him was when he opened his ring and his Flash costume would come unfolding out. That and the wings on his costume.

Who knew back then that he was based on Mercury or Hermes (depending on which myth you like). All I knew is that he had a cool costume and could run like the wind.

Who knew he would someday end up with Wonder Woman. Who knew?

Which one is the real me?

The Real Me

Remember how when we were kids and had our picture taken at school and were given "wallet sized" versions to pass out to all our friends? Well, as you can see, I was never the most popular kid (in fact, I probably gave the one cut-out to myself.)

Since my one true friend back then was my imagination I took it upon myself to create little Mike variations. What I love is how you see me start simply and move onto my masterpiece, little African-American Mike. I have been told by a few friends that this image is the best way to understand me and how I think (if you can call it that). In fact, my one friend George literally doubles over in laughter each time he sees this.

So, which of these do you think best represents me

Butter

Taken at Cleveland's West Side Market -- Awesome place

I will begin by giving away the premise of todays post. I LOVE BUTTER. Just after the magic ingredient Salt, it is, for me, essential. When I was a kid my brother Jack, who was a strong 15 year old, used to pin me (who stood 4'5" and weighed 80 lbs. wet) and tickle me relentlessly. He was and is a good brother but he did occasionally abuse his strength. Plus, I trusted him implicitly and would bite at every joke he played on me.

Jack's one Achille's Heel is butter, he only likes it very sparingly and always ON something (Potatoes, etc). So, when he would push me past my point I would sometimes go into the kitchen, hack off a huge piece of butter and proceed to put the entire piece in my mouth in front of him and eat it. This would reduce him to nothing and he would leave, gagging the entire time.

Another butter related story from my childhood..... Both my parents worked from just after my birth so once I was going to school I would come home to an empty house everyday. Sometimes, while watching cartoons or Ultra Man or Astro Boy I would make myself a bowl of butter frosting and eat the entire thing before anyone got home.

In Cleveland, specifically Lakewood, my hometown, there are TWO different pizza parlors where one can order a Butter Cheese pizza. What's on a Butter Cheese pizza, well, cheese and butter instead of sauce. Everytime I get home I have to eat a large by myself. In the days when smoking was allowed in restaurants I would go there and see people eating butter cheese pizza and smoking. Hearty people those Clevelanders.

Lastly, to my friend Bob and Patti's two excellent kids Matt and Shannon I am lovingly known as, you guessed it, Uncle Butter. How DID I get that nickname?

Shockheaded Peter

I have had the luck and honor to see this "musical" twice, once in San Francisco and the other, New York. It is, BY FAR, the most innovative, beautiful, well acted, great timed theater I've ever seen AND it has, the Tiger Lillies, but I digress.

Shockhead Peter or Der Struwwelpeter (1845) is a popular German children's book by Heinrich Hoffmann. It comprises ten illustratedand rhymed stories, mostly about children. Each has a clear moral that demonstrates the disastrous consequences of misbehavior in an exaggerated way. The title of the first story provides the title of the whole book. Literally translated, Struwwel-Peter means Shaggy-Peter.

The Tiger Lillies are a three-piece band, formed in 1989 and based in London. They have toured worldwide and won acclaim with their opera Shockheaded Peter.

Their surreal style has been described as dark, darkly humorous, strangely humorous, Brechtian, andgypsy cabaret. They are also notorious for singing controversial songs involving bestiality, prostitution and blasphemy. In 1999 their work was featured in the film Plunkett & Macleane.

Together, this theater group created a show that was a blend of Cabaret, puppetry, singing, Traditional theater and more.

Shockheaded Peter will probably never be performed by the creators but the Lillies do play in select cities here in the US. Go see them if you ever get the chance.

Hitler

You tell me but I think my brother Jack always had a secret Hitler thing going on but first a little context.

When we were kids our Dad was an established collector of memorabilia. In the early to middle sixties his "thing" was German war artifacts. We had a huge Nazi flag hanging in the spare bedroom that neighbors could plainly see, a Kaiser helmet, a three foot tall disarmed torpedo and other "Kraut" related items. So, for awhile, my brother and I lived in a house that, by todays standards, would most likely have been subject to who knows what!

Basically, Dad would go full bore on a topic and collect the Hell out of it only to get bored and move onto the next collectible. His sports collection became legendary after his death.

Anyway, one day in 1990, Jack and I made a short film for his wife Kathy and their upcoming new daughter Colleen and shaving off his full beard was a required part of a costume for a role he was playing so this pic is probably not about my brother and any Hitler thing, I just wanted to grab your attention. I was the one who took the pic in the first place when I could stop laughing.

My first encounter with blog time = LAME!

I just realized at the last second that I hadn't posted anything so I'm throwing out the random pic thing. Hmmm, what up with dat?

I'm happy

Eugene Hütz of Gogol Bordello

Out with friends drinking and talking about 80's music. Sad, isn't it?

Since online music emerged in all its legal and illegal forms, the big labels have been basking in their own filth and although that's enough to put a smile on my face what it's really done is create a whole new wave of artists who are self-sufficiently creating amazing music.

Thank God! ASCAP and BMI can suck my 'ahem' and for those of us who don't like being blindly spoon fed music we can all rejoice. CREATIVITY IS BACK!!

In the meantime, back to friends and the music I grew up on but haven't ended with.

Who doesn't like Coffee?

I understand that not everyone likes a good cup of coffee in the morning but to me it is ESSENTIAL! There is something wrong with me if I am not walking the halls of work with a cup in my hand. It is, in fact, the energy behind writing this post.

What's my favorite brew since most people I know have one? Peets Coffee by far! I discovered it when I lived in San Francisco. It is, in fact, the inspiration for Starbucks. They took the ideas that Peets started and turned it into the mega-venti cup that exists on every street corner.

BUT! There is one other way I know to ingest this elixir that is Heaven sent and it is called Pocket Coffee's. They used to be almost impossible to find here in the States as they are produced in limited runs in Italy but I have found them in DC stores. Basically. they are a shot of real espresso inside a praline cookie that is covered in chocolate. Bite into one and you get a burst of espresso. Effing Heaven!!!!

Buy these for yourselves....NOW!

How the TV show Dallas saved my life

So one Friday night back in 1980 I came home from work with the intention of ingesting a certain hallucinogenic and laying low for the night. A month prior to that my girlfriend at the time had broken up with me but I was cool and looking forward to my night. After dinner I took said hallucinogenic and all was fine till the phone rang, it was my ex calling to say she missed me, blah, blah, blah so I got off the phone and started to get REALLY bummed out as you might imagine.

Not wanting to be alone anymore I set out and hooked up with some friends and had some beers. When I got back home at 10:30 I thought to myself, "Nice life. this is what you're doing on a Friday night!" so I sat down and was getting even more bummed out as I turned the TV on. There was Dallas and as the show played I began to laugh at how stupid it was and thought "this is what America thinks is good Friday night drama?" Please.

So now, everything that had, up to that point, made me sadder and sadder turned into a stream of absurdity.

Life was good again and almost made sense. After the news my TV therapy came full circle when I put the show Fridays on. Fridays was ABC's answer to SNL and was a really good show. One of their favorite bands was DEVO and the next video cemented my return to altered sanity. I especially love the gospel-ish tinged "I saw Jesus" bit before the song starts.

So thank you Dallas and thank you DEVO for giving me a much needed perspective. That ex and I never got back together.

Is this what we're supposed to remember?

I was in Fort Lauderdale a few years ago and stumbled across this mural painted on the side of this non-descript bar and I've hung onto it because I still am not sure if the message I got is the one they intended.

What do you think?

Dakar, Senegal

Back in 2004 I was able to convince the museum to split costs and I was able to attend the Dak'Arts Biennial where not only was I able to see some of the cutting edge of contemporary African Art but also had a lot of time to investigate the city.

One day I hired a translator as well as a cabbie for the entire day. Their job was to show me the back alleys of Dakar and interact with people. The translator, in addition to French, spoke the native Wolof dialect and was able to assure the people we came upon that the white man with a video camera was not there to exploit them but rather, was compiling footage for his workplace, the National Museum of African Art.

I was able to see two schools, two galleries, the preeminent glass painter of Senegal, the marketplace (unbelievable), a gathering of drum makers who broke into an impromptu jam as well as artisans plying their trade on street corners.

All over town you will see different murals, wall paintings and other devotional offerings dedicated to Amadou Bamba M'Back, or just "Bamba." Here is one of the better ones I took.

Didn't buy as much as I would have wanted to but I did buy one of the glass artworks and had a traditional street wear pair of pants and shirt handmade from cloth I bought at the market. I am so glad that I was able to get there. Africa is an amazing continent. Would love to go to Tangiers, Addis Ababa, Dar es Salaam and South Africa next. We'll see!

"One week, one teeny-weeny week, my boy."

As of today I have one week to build a full web site for the museum I work at. Materials have been gathered, coffee is brewing and I am ready. The time frame is extraordinary and is what I have to deal with.

One very nice thing is I've proven that I deliver a quality piece of work when I move my office home. This allows me to work on the site with singular focus.

Wish me luck!

PS - The title is a line taken from a TV show. Major props to anyone who can guess the show.

This is what happens....

...when I think of actually trying to participate in NaBloPoMo but Hell, if I've got nothing to say what's stopping me from making something up. It's not as if.....

Oh, just to make sure you understand my pain...

Design and "Execution" of the Barfing Pumpkin by Kelly