November 29, 2003

I am definitely at the point where I don’t want to eat anymore and I am pretty tired too. I am thinking about going food free today. I want to go food free today. I want to say that I am bigger than the piece of pie that is dangling in front of my face. I want to have a stare down with the pie. I will look the pie right in the crumbled ginger snap topping and say: “I am bigger than you, pie. I can beat you.” I think that I am not going to eat today. And I am going out for a power walk after I BLOG. That’s where I am at with the food and the holiday.

Yesterday was “Thanksgiving 2 – Electric Boogaloo” at my parent’s house. The morning was spent doing laundry and sitting around listening to records while Laurie cooked a peach tart and my nemesis, the pie. I read the paper and did some clips. I lost quarters in the drier. I folded clothes. I am liking this not working thing. I have listened to many records and it has been good. I like to listen to records, Ernie. It makes me feel good.

When it was time to go, Laurie asked me if I loved her, which always means that something bad is about to happen to me. She is still feeding the cats in our old neighborhood and she had to do it before we went over my parents. My choice was wait longer than I wanted to or go with her to the old neighborhood on the way to the highway. I am not going to waste mileage on a leased car so I went with her but I refuse to ever go down our old street again or look at the house for personal reasons. I told her that I would get out at Starbucks and she could pick me up at the bus stop on the corner of where I got hit by the car. I would rather relive getting run over by a car a million times than the horror of home ownership once. The question, are you kidding, was asked. Oh no. I am not kidding. I got out of the car. I started to walk in the freezing rain. I did not look down that street. I crossed the street where I got hit. Laurie drove towards me from the opposite direction of how I was hit while I was in the crosswalk. It was all very scary. Safely back in the car, we drove silently for most of the way to my parent’s house as I put the pieces back together again. I think I should probably try to be tougher in the New Year. That’s a goal.

“Thanksgiving 2 – Electric Boogaloo” was great. My mom makes Thanksgiving dinner the way that I like to eat it. Besides having to be almost totally responsible for a big dinner for many people, my mom had the added responsibility of dealing with her elderly parents. My grandma was sprung from the nursing home for the day. There were wheelchairs. There were oxygen tanks. There was my mother keeping it all together. Huge ups must go out to her. She is the man now dog. The day of food and kids came to end and it was time for my grandparents to go home. My brother and I helped get grandma back to the nursing home. I watched my grandpa drive away while grandma was bracing herself to be carried down the stairs in her wheelchair. The title of that experience is called: “Death Drives a Ford Taurus”. I feel bad for all tree lawns in the Tri-Heights area. The good part is he got home safe and so did Grandma. Logically, you think that nothing really bad is going to happen on these days but the possibility is there. A sigh of relief was emitted when everybody was safe and sound.

My brother came home with Laurie and I. We watched the Cavaliers lose on the road again. It was close. The Pistons are just too tough and LeBron James decided to go zero productivity for the night. That was a losing combination. My brother and I went out to the Beachland for a night of rock. We saw part of Soulless, Rammer, Boulder and the Greenhornes – bouncing back and forth between both rooms. There were not as many people out as I would have expected but you got to figure that a lot of people are out of town and an equal amount of people are burned out. For those who were there, they got to see a whole lot of rock and me introduce my brother as some tough guy trained killer type of dude who will kick your ass so much so that he had to tell me to cut it out in front of Smoking Steve.

I drove my brother back to Garfield Heights, OH. The roads were kind of crappy and it felt like the holidays to be driving through Newburgh Heights, OH in snow. Much has been said about the 176 Flaming Raymond Super Highway and its ability to cut fifteen seconds off of the trip to Garfield Heights, OH. I am a believer and it has been touted repeatedly on the Assholier Than Thou Good Times Happy Friends Monday Morning Radio Show Starring Baby Fea (yea) for the fifteen seconds. That said, if you want the old school holiday experience, take the 77. It is worth it – even if they police the Newburgh, OH and Independence, OH stretches of the 77 like the Berlin Wall.

It took an hour to get home from the Beachland. I lost the battle against the pie. I looked for a snare drum that was identical to the one that the drummer from the Greenhornes was playing (it sounded amazing) on e-mail computer. I went to bed. Five hours later, I am back at the computer. We, as a family, are going to the Holiday Parade downtown today and my brother, his son and I are going to the Gund Arena for Cavaliers game tonight.

I really see no sign of dropping anytime in the near future.

posted by Thea at 8:54 AM

November 28, 2003

The holidays are that time of the year when emotional cliché takes over. Everybody has a warm remembrance of Grandma’s house. They wrote a song about it. Life becomes a Hallmark card for people around the holidays and if you are the least bit cynical, it can and will be sickening. As a cynic, I understand this. As a romantic, I let go and ignore it – allowing myself to feel a sense of awe and wonder looking at a bunch of twinkle lights that my Uncle Earl put up around his Independence, OH compound while driving up to the compound with my niece and nephew saying with great conviction and total sincerity “Wow. Look at those lights. Man, they look great.” Yeah, I know that they just are a string of lights tacked to a deck but, come on, you are either going to get into it or be miserable. Take your pick. I am choosing tired sentiment. I am choosing old pictures from Thanksgiving twenty years ago. I am choosing a manufactured belief that driving down Fulton is my holiday tradition. I am telling myself that I love it. I am going with it. There is a reason why people kill themselves around the holiday. It is either this or rampage. You make the call.

I woke up early yesterday. I BLOGGED. I read the paper while listening to bunch of jazz records that I bought off of He Who Can Not be BLOGGED About on this Website Ever Again – Ever and then I listened to Big Star while Laurie cooked pies. In between her baking and me sitting there doing nothing, I brought up the fact that I wanted another set of drums and also expressed my desire to spend all of my overtime money for the foreseeable future on drums. This caused some debate regarding the amount of space that we have in the apartment and items that we need to buy versus my desire to just blow money. Some small tears were shed. I feared that this was a sign of greater tears to come yesterday but the drums were sold while we were discussing the situation, so, problem solved and no more tears were shed on Thanksgiving. No holiday tears is my goal and I am able to deliver that with increasing success each year. That is a good sign.

Before yesterday, my favorite Thanksgiving memory, besides the senile great-grandma Spencer Tracey story that I told on the radio show this week, was the time that Laurie forgot a pie at our apartment on Lake Avenue and West 117th street and I had to go back from Bubby and Joanie’s to get it. That was a half of an hour of freedom from family and, on the way back, I hit not one single stoplight all the way down Lake and Detroit Road. It was a Thanksgiving miracle. It was the only time that I have not been stopped at the light at Detroit and Lake in my life – ever. I noticed that I was not hitting any lights and I got pumped up. Yes. The sense of thrill that I was feeling was only diminished by the reality that I was only getting back to Bubby and Joanie’s faster by not hitting any lights. Why is every blessing a mixed blessing? I stopped at the stop sign on West 45th Street. It was over but the memory remains and I get a lot of mileage out of that story ever year. It was quiet at Bubby and Joanie’s yesterday. Laurie’s sister (nurse) and kids did not show up at all because of work and her brother and kids did not show up until we were leaving. It was subdued. Dinner was served in a timely fashion and I ate conservatively with the thought of pacing myself. After dinner, I spoke with Laurie’s father for a couple of hours and heard the story of Laurie learning to read amidst many of her dad’s standard raps. It was a great story, not so much for the subject matter (you know, kid learning to read, pretty standard stuff) but with the passion that he told the story and the sense of pride that he has about it to this day. He threw his arms up over his head and clasped his hands with joy while recounting a situation in the car with Laurie reading in the back seat to her brother and sister. It was touching and I happy that he cares so much about his daughter. You don’t hear that kind of thing a lot of the time with her family who are emotionally very conservative, so that was great. Another holiday memory.

I dropped Laurie at her mom’s house in Parma, OH and went to my parent’s house for more of my brother and his family. There was no Thanksgiving dinner at my mom’s house. My mom (nurse) had to work. They were eating rigatoni. I did not bring up the time that grandma made spaghetti on Christmas. Some stories are best left for the DVD bonus version of life. We went, en masse caravan style, to the Independence, OH compound to see my grandma and dad’s side of the family. I drove the kids and my niece kicked the back of my seat. I had a good time talking to my cousins and strangers who are family. I spoke at length with my nephew. I said that if I had kids, those kids would be crazy just like Uncle Chris and he quickly agreed - too quickly, if you ask me. I left the Independence, OH compound to pick up Laurie from her mom’s. On the drive home, we both agreed that this was the best Thanksgiving that we have ever had. As pumped as I was (pretty pumped), I tried to keep it in my pants a little bit as to not appear too pumped. Laurie is in a psychology class this semester and I keep on getting diagnosed with mental illness. Yesterday, it was Bipolar II, and I did not even do anything.

I stayed up past one in the morning last night watching hours of “Curb Your Enthusiasm” (my new favorite show) and eating a turkey sandwich. I did not eat so much yesterday because of all of the running around except for too many desserts, so I was kind of hungry. I took off the tightest pants that I own that I wear on days when festive celebratory eating is on deck as a gorging control device, and ate a turkey sandwich and some chips. It was the first time that I felt like I over did it at all but it is the holiday, so what the fuck? The turkey (Laurie’s mom’s) sandwich kicked the ass. The only problem was that I keep on hearing about how much these deep fried turkeys rule but, because of some horrible conspiracy, I can get access to one. I ate the standard turkey. I loved the standard turkey. But the thought that there might be some deep fried super turkey out there is ruining standard turkey. Again, the problem is that if there is the prospect for perfection, I am going for it.

I am not sleeping.

We are going to my parent’s house today for “Thanksgiving 2 – Electric Boogaloo”. And then we have a bunch of other holiday jazz to attend to. If there is a wall to hit, I hope it does not happen until my brother and his family are back on the plane to California.

I will see you tonight at Boulder. I will see you tonight at the Greenhornes. I will be wearing my “Ask Me About My Brother’s Kids” t-shirt.

These BLOGS are so long because, although I am not writing the book in the morning, I still like to write in the morning while drinking coffee.

posted by Thea at 7:07 AM

November 27, 2003

Happy Thanksgiving!

The holiday weekend started for me yesterday. On the clock at work. Much to the unhappiness, I am sure if they knew about it, of my corporate overlords. I went in with the best intentions of getting things done. I was going to bury myself in work to make the time go faster. It did not happen. I am sorry, corporate overlords.

At 9:00 a.m., I called my brother on his cell phone. He should have been at LAX waiting for his plane. He was at LAX alright but he was on a futuristic tram with his daughter going to where they needed to wait. Although his wife was with his son doing something with the luggage since the clock was set for 3:00 p.m. instead of a.m. and they got a late start, he was confident that they were going to make their flight. He hung up abruptly because he had to go and I called my mom to laugh about another story of my brother running late. I was late to my wedding and he was in charge of getting me there. The stories build up. We laughed and said that he is who he is.

My mom called me next to tell me that they missed their flight. They had to reschedule. They would be getting in at 8:00 p.m. instead of 4:00 p.m. After the initial disappointment, I said: game face (two words) and let it roll. I got my hair cut. I noted again that my barber always cuts at least a one inch difference in my sideburns. Because of that, I walked around cockeyed all afternoon. I still left work early and bought a Big Star live record from He Who Can Not be BLOGGED About on this Website Ever Again - Ever while dropping off fliers for The WCSB Holiday Jam starring: the Dreadful Yawns, the Terminal Lovers, Viva! Caramel, Andrej Cuturic/Joel Kaufman (ex-revelers) and Mike Uva and Hook Boy on December 12, 2003 at the Beachland Tavern. Be there or be a dork. I picked up Laurie from work. We went home. We watched Seinfeld. Her worked called to tell me that the other half of my drum kit had just been delivered from Florida. I went to pick them up. I bought this silver sparkle set of Slingerlands that match my other drum kit from this guy on the e-mail computer. It took him many weeks to package these drums and get them up here because he had to pick all of the garbage that he packed the drums with himself. In these boxes were the filthiest blankets and pillows that I have ever seen. It was disgusting. The drums are really sweet, though, and I and totally pumped up. The only problem is that I want more drums. That means more. That means I am never satisfied. That means there is a problem.

It was time to go over my parent’s house. I drove Lake Avenue to Detroit Road to West 65th Street to Dennison to Harvard to Broadway to Garfield Heights, OH. The Cavaliers were on the radio and I was in a driving mood. I love taking the side streets to my parent’s house on the holidays. It is a holiday tradition. I was happy. Nobody was at my parent’s house when I got there so I went to get gas at the gas station that my brother used to work at. Memory Lane is a road in Garfield Heights, OH.

When I got back, they were there. There were hugs and there were kisses. Again, I was happy. I know this because I am usually not happy and there was a difference.

There were tales of holiday travels. It was real life “Planes, Trains and Automobiles”. My brother and his family, unbeknownst to me but not surprising either, are Commando Family. They tried to carry on three knives and a pair of scissors onto the plane. I am not making this up. And I am also not saying that this had anything to do with them missing any flights out of LAX. Let’s just say that they are here and leave it at that.

Instead of watching the Cavaliers fall apart in the second half last night, I watched “Home Alone 2: Lost in New York” with my niece and nephew on the floor of my sister’s bedroom. I know that the all of the player haters out there who call me out as a big fat sap and a sentimental loser are thinking that this was a set up by Uncle Chris so he can wallow in holiday cheer but I caught up with the movie already in progress. So there. I would have suggested eventually but the kids beat me to the punch.

I said goodbye. More hugs. More kisses. I drove home happy. I woke up happy. I have nothing in my heart right now except for anticipation of a great day. My brother and his family are home for Thanksgiving. I could not ask for anything more.

Last point before checking out here for the day and really having nothing to do with any of this: I could be stupid if I wanted to be stupid. I am well aware of the stupid. I see the stupid. I know what the stupid do. I could live a stupid life if I chose to. It is just that I don’t want to be stupid. It is a choice that I am making.

With that, I am out.

Happy Thanksgiving!

posted by Thea at 9:16 AM

November 26, 2003

It was after 10:00 p.m. last night. Laurie was at the grocery store buying items to make stuff to eat for the holiday. I had just finished doing my dumbbell routine to strengthen the arm. I was standing in the hallway outside of the office. I was looking at the computer. I was zoned out. Drifting into inner space. I was thinking about whether to go out for a walk or not before going to bed. And then I remembered. That’s what losers do. Thinking instead of walking. I went for a walk last night. It was cold out and I still don’t have my winter clothes back from when I stashed them at Dirt’s house so the house that Laurie and I were trying to sell looked like it had enough closet space. Cold is good. It empties the streets. I saw nobody on Lake Avenue last night except for two mandatory dog walkers. I like walking in the cold. It makes you walk faster.

Today is one hundred days since I started “Too Bored to Thrash” AKA the Smoking Steve book. Today is also the day that I should have finished the book. I am not done. I don’t know when I am going to be done. I am 93248 words into to it. That is pretty much a thousand words a day every day except for when I went out to California in September to see my brother, George and the Browns. I don’t know what I am doing with this book. It started off with all of these notes and a pretty decent idea of what I was going to write about and how much I was going to write about each thing that I wanted to say. Again, I had notes. That was a first for somebody who normally writes in the free form freak out style of writing – sans agenda and game plan. I have not looked at the notes once since I started writing. Go figure. And every day I wake up and write my thousand words. I think that I need to figure out how I am going to finish the book. I have the ending in my head already. That’s not the problem. It is just that normally when I write, I edit the story as I go. This time, I am writing everything with the notion that I am going to cut tens of thousands words out of the book to make it readable. This is going to be a first from me. I am concerned that it is not going to go well. All I can do is keep on writing to keep me from getting to the point where I am done so I don’t have to do any real evaluating of the work. That, and I don’t know if I really care about the book or finishing it as much as I enjoy writing the thousand words in the morning. So, with all of this in mind, I am taking the holiday off. Sometime during the course of the weekend I am going to take out my large notebook and see what it is that I wrote down that I wanted to write. With notes in hand, I am going to have to come up with a schedule to get this book done. I just don’t feel like doing it now. And this whole thing about the book was and is a metaphor for my life.

Once, I wrote an entire book with not one possessive adjective in it.

My brother and his family are flying in from California today. I am pretty excited in a round about kind of way. Having just seen them in September, I don’t have that ultra urgent sense of missing them. I am not saying that I am not pumped up or not psyched but I am kind outside the experience looking at it instead of really caught up in the middle of it. I am looking forward to hanging out and I am looking forward to not working for a few days. I guess I am excited but not super crazy or anything.

For years, I woke up constantly in the middle of the night with loud bells, buzzers, ringing, banging or booming in my head. In reality, there was nothing waking me up except for anxiety because there was, in reality, no loud ringing. It continued after we moved in here but went away after we got settled. I woke up this morning with a loud banging in my head. I said to myself: that has not happened in a while.

I have been listening to Big Star, the Meat Puppets and the Minutemen a lot for the last week. It is 1993. I am hanging out at Joe, Beckett and Beth’s house with Doug.

posted by Thea at 6:53 AM

November 23, 2003

BLOG. Weekend Edition.

Friday. Too tired to BLOG.

Saturday. Too busy to BLOG.

Sunday. Too thrashed out to BLOG.

Today, I did not clip any news items or iron any clothes or do any of the things that I normally do to get ready for the week and the Assholier Than Thou Good Times Happy Friends Monday Morning Radio Show Starring Baby Fea (yea). Is it my slavish devotion to ritual that makes it all work or is it me? Or am I slavish devotion to ritual?

These questions and many other will be answered tomorrow on the Assholier Than Thou Good Times Happy Friends Monday Morning Radio Show Starring Baby Fea (yea).


posted by Thea at 10:39 PM