Archive for the ‘my life’ Category
Here’s a small ensemble piece I composed for the Cygnus Ensemble performed in 2008 in New York. Enjoy!
ellen told me i needed to update with something.
“just take a photo booth picture,” she said, and went back to her geography text.
then she fell asleep.
… i followed through.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be the guy on the sidewalk you debate whether or not to ask if he needs help.
I figure if he was there yesterday, and he’s there again today, it’s probably just fine.
And more hassle than it’s worth.
But I’ll probably wonder again tomorrow.
I just wish he had a sign, or something.
What defines needing help?
It all just balloons up. Each time I make eye contact, it moves something.
There was a woman on crutches by the interstate with the left leg of her pants rolled up to her torso. She held the side of a cardboard box that read, “On my last leg.”
We all should carry signs.
We’d probably just ignore them.
Camus said, “Bénis sont les coeurs qui peuvent piler, ils ne seront jamais brisés.”
“Blessed are the hearts that can bend, for they will never break.”
My roommate doesn’t have a bed yet. It’s been almost three weeks and he sleeps on the floor.
But he did spend at least two days setting up this beauty.
My favorite detail? Besides… you know… the books…
The box of bourbon’s finest.
Second favorite detail…
Yes, my friends, that IS a Darwin monkey book end helping Joyce’s Ulysses to find its footing.
This is what I wake up to every morning. Sure, I could buy an actual bookshelf. Or I could spend that money on a book of Ryokan’s poetry. I mean c’mon, which would you chose?
And residing over it all, the chairman of the Spaß. One must give reverence.
So what is the Spaß?
In short, it’s our new apartment.
Jeremy came up with the idea that he wanted to name our apartment after a guerilla movement. I thought it a fine idea and started some research.
Spaßguerilla, which apparently means “fun guerilla” was “a grouping within the student protest movement of the 1960s in Germany that agitated for social change, in particular for a more libertarian, less authoritarian, and less materialistic society, using tactics characterized by disrespectful humour and provocative and disruptive actions of a minimally violent nature.”
It is pronounced “Spassguerilla” and if we were to shorten that, we could called it “the spaß” or “the spass” which almost sounds like “the space” and looks like “the spa” but also means “the fun.”
“The word “Spassguerilla” itself is interesting. Though the normal German spelling is Spaßguerilla, it was spelled Spassguerilla by Fritz Teufel and this therefore became known as the “teuflische Schreibweise” (a pun meaning either “Teufelian” spelling or “diabolical spelling”; Teufel in German means devil). This spelling is retained by some, including academics (see references). The use of “ss” rather than “ß” implies a short “a” sound, making the word more like Stadtguerilla (urban guerrilla), a term used by Rudi Dutschke.”
So we live in a subversive German potentially demonic urban space spa of fun.
The name stuck real fast.
I’ve been unpacking all week. A friend made fun of me for having a box labeled, “Books: Contemporary American Literature Box 3 and Export Commodities.”
Here’s another, “Clothes to be revisited box 2.” Still not sure what I was going for with that.
I always tell myself I want things like the perfect toilet brush or silverware without plastic handles. But moving in always seems to require the same mass immigration of stuff. I bought the plastic blue one because it was three dollars cheaper than the metal one.
You’d think packing up everything you own into many small oddly labeled boxes would make you reconsider buying random stuff.
Today, I bought a wooden spoon. My roommate bought a lacquer platter with an old map of Cyprus on it.
It’s for the bathroom. We keep our hand soap on it.
I apologize for my absence. It’s been quite the little journey. My Ma, my Pa, Jeremy, and I shuttled our new friend Craig the U-haul trailer all the way from north to south, from Chicago, Illinois to Austin, Texas.
On the way…
The arch over St. Louis overlooking the grand Mississip, gateway from east to west.
…many a gas station. I call this picture “Car Wash in America.”
Oklahoma showed us big skies, trucks and giant Indians.
And now all the way to the Lone Star State.
I’ve got a new job, new apartment, new roommate, and enough home baked bread to raise the temp to just over 105 degrees.
Sorry to everyone for the lack of updates, but I’m back. Thanks to all who visited and for all the notes while I was away.
If you know the perfect taco wagon or somewhere else I need to check out in Austin, don’t hesitate.
Until tomorrow mes amis.
For those of you whom I have yet to meet, my non-cyber life is supported by teaching yoga (among a few other odds and ends). This past weekend, I found myself surrounded by lights, cameras and half-built sets in a huge loft space in Chicago’s downtown with my dear friend and photographer extraordinaire, Jane, who collaborated with me on some promotional photos for my up-and-coming site.
I thought I’d share a few of these.
For this last shot, I asked her what stage of enlightenment it looked like I was in. She said that as I was having her take pictures of me meditating, probably not that high…
I liked my little brick corner. I hope you do, too.
Please excuse my absence. I had to partake in a rescue mission to Ohio. There has to be some adage about not going to Ohio from California… or about not going to Ohio in August, and if so, this fine gent hadn’t learned it yet.
He is now safe again in the warm embrace of a late Chicago summer.
And just to round out the number to four of big fat midwestern states we visited in a day, we stopped in Michigan for a quick glimpse of the lake from the other side and a surprisingly bad dinner.
But then again, we ate to this at our side…