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Showing posts from January, 2011

Thoughts while riding in an empty train

Here it comes. Listening to Sonic Youth on the train. Tonight we’re expecting more snow. I don’t want to talk about the weather. That would bore you. What happens on the train as we approach St. James? Nothing but silent heads getting tossed. It’s quiet in the train. This is the time when we contemplate the day we left. This time can be used for self introspection, intoxication and frustration. You can listen to music or watch a movie on the laptop. Read a book. Do some more work and rise like a star in your company. I type this and get distracted by my Blackberry. Let the water run in the river. We pull out of Smithtown and there’s nothing but snow faintly lit by dim street lights. Cars are tombs. We crash under our blankets and wish for dreams to erupt from the deep, let me sleep. About this time I’m hungry and wish for some dinner. I’d like to have something to eat now. It’s warm in the train. Next week I’m heading up to Toronto and presenting to the sales staf…

bella's birthday, let us take a moment

Tomorrow is Isabella’s birthday, our youngest is turning 8. The youngest of 4, Bella as she prefers to be called is an independent spirit like no other. Bella at times rules the house with her demands and a deafening volume that blasts out from a mouth. I feel she will become to next Ethel Merman, I’m going to try to add a link to You Tube in this post. Today, we celebrated her birthday. Now to be honest, we know that two weeks ago we were celebrating Christmas. Bella like my dad who was born two weeks before Christmas is a short changed through life, since both don’t have the day like most of us have had or will continue to have. Your birthday is the day the earth stops around you. No chores for the birthday boy or girl, and they can have anything for breakfast. You want chocolate cake, you got it. But two weeks after Christmas, we’re trying to sharpen our minds, get back the normalcy of life, work and school. These days it feels the earth pauses for a moment, but there’s …

Henry Rollins - Broken Summers

This past week I read Broken Summers by Henry Rollins. I bought a used copy in Cambridge MA and I would glace at the copy now and then. My goal this week was completing The Clinton Tapes. Instead I settled on something easier. Rollins is an easy writer to sink your teeth into, but I found his redundant themes of running into babbling drunks near his bus or back stage at the shows or how often he’d snicker at the USA, spelling America with a K or two…and he’s always on the move. What’s he running from? Facing his demons? Accepting he is vulnerable? What are missing were any real emotions or a girlfriend. Come on Henry tell us more about your infatuation with Cheryl Crowe. Other than hate, there is little else of substance in this book. He mentioned his upbringing, but did not go into detail. His parents divorced when he was younger, and remembers getting hauled off by his mother. That was about it. Rollins even assumed his grandmother may have been alive when his tour bro…