Art beneath the canopy glow

Location: the interwebs, trying to get something 46x35in
Mood: frustrated
Music: accounts of peace while passed beneath the canopy glow

Edward Hopper Room in New York

Ended up making pizza. Tasted great, looked terrible. Gonna try again and take some pics for you.

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Late posting cause I spent the last two hours trying to get an oversized print of Hopper’s Nighthawks. If you’re in Chicago, y’should really see it in the museum – never have myself.

If y’ever came by my pad, you’d see that my walls are bare except for one thing my pop drew for me once.

But, realized that barren walls don’t make a home, so been looking for some artwork with my very limited scratch. Hopper’s got a good sensea how solitary the city’s sometimes. Y’can have someone surrounded by people and still by yourself; or even be at home with someone and still be by your lonesome, like his Room in New York.

Sides him, kinda partial to vintage posters like the kind below.

Thing is that, always thoughta home as someplace else. George Carlin useta say something like, a house is just the place where y’keep your stuff. So, I was never one to get even more stuff, like artwork.

But, being 36, suppose it’s time to call a place home already, yeah? Ergo, stuff. Ergo, art.

This’s my first real piecea artwork that I’ve not made myself.

Tell me something, what else should I consider?

Vintage poster of a ship - KNSM Oceanliner
Vintage poster - Altes Plakat Auto Kesselberg-Rennen by Klotz, Anton und Kienast, Eugen, (Klokien)

YASYCTAI: Tell me what art y’like. (5 mins/0.5 pts)

Gone Fisher King (but coming back)

If only we could just pay the bill and go home

A red door from the East Village

 

You ever kinda just space out while walking or driving and just magically end up on your doorstep? Hold that thought.

There’s this great line from The Fisher King where the lead, who’s destroyed a buncha people’s lives, wails out, “If there were some way I could just pay the fine and go home.”

It’s never that easy. Did you ever complete that sentence, The purpose of life is?

My answer I actually told you once a while ago, except, I didn’t tell you. It was my dating philosophy: Leave people better off having met you. Note that I never said “women.”

Did it to try and help the world out; turns out it helped me out.

Thought I’d take this time to tell you some things, because I still get the occasional email asking.

  • The PCD is doing very well; we chat every so often. She’s one of my people, even though we never see each other. She’s also Beatrix from an old entry and you can read up on her love life here.
  • And the HEI is doing well too; she’s packed up and gone to see about a boy and a life out west. She drops me a line here and there.
  • Caligirl got married and that’s a story in itself.
  • Elle’s finding her way through the big city and finding herself along the way.
  • The Italian Lawyer, GES, the writer, human resources girl, and others I run into from time-to-time.
  • It was the SX’s birthday recently but she’s MIA. She, like most of them’ve left my Venn Diagram. Suppose that’s probably for the best.

Finally, there’s Heartgirl. She’s asked that I not write about her so I don’t but I think it’d be amiss if I didn’t. Because I’ve set her apart.

Spent the last hour trying to figure out how to tell you about her. I’ve decided that she’s my receipt.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m still hustling for scratch, several items on my body are broken and/or bruised. Lots of fail.

But I think she’s my cashed check from Life saying, OK, you did some horrible, _____ things in your life. And I still promise you nuthin but pain. But all of that stuff you did? For that, we’re square. You’ve paid your fine…and you can go home.

It’s been almost exactly three years – August 17, 2006 – since I left who I was to figure out who I wanted to be; three years since my feet were pointed home.

Tonight, while talking to her, looked up to realize that I was almost there.

Was thinking that this was gonna be my last entry. Was gonna put down: Gone Fish’n and be off.

But this blog helped me find my way. So even if there’s only one person that still reads me, wanna say “Thanks” for taking the time. (Mom, if it’s you, “rum” is what kids call “apple juice”).

Gonna take next week off while I try and figure out a few things and spend some time with Heartgirl. But I’ll be back Sept 1st round midnight, like always.

See you then, yeah?

What I remember

9/11 made me believe in evil things again

So, I had a heartbreaking day today.

It rained, which was perfectly apropos.

Wasn’t planning on writing anything – every two-bit hack with a computer writes something about the day and I didn’t wanna be another one.

But here I am. Makes sense; I am a two-bit hack with a computer.

I’ve lived here my whole life. I had one of my first elementary school class trips to see those buildings. I remember I was scared to look up at them because I thought they might fall on me.

After college I worked on the 2nd Floor. Wheelock NatWest. Then again about a decade ago. Mancini Duffy. My brother worked there once.

My sister went to school in their shadow.

They were always there.

That’s why when you lose someone close to you, it’s so heartbreaking. It’s because they’re always there. And then one day, poof. They’re gone.

The scene I remember most is that of strangers gathered around cars, the city quiet, save for the radios.

Can you see it?

Cars stopped along Broadway with their radios on full blast for strangers? No music, no commercials, just the news. Everyone quiet and craning their neck so they could hear the latest bit of misery.

I believed in evil again that day. I believe in it now. I remember thinking of that line from American Pie that goes, I saw satan laughing with delight, the day the music died.

I’m not a good enough writer to put into words how I felt then or feel now. So I’ll just say that I had a heartbreaking day today.

It rained, which was perfectly apropos.

Location: in my living room, trying not to be depressed
Mood: see location
Music: and there we were all in one place
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Fathers and sons

For my dad on Father’s Day

Couldn’t celebrate father’s day because of the wedding. I saw him though.

My dad graduated from the second hardest law school in Japan – the equivalent of Princeton here. I graduated in the top third of my class; he graduated in the top 5%.

But, when he was younger than I am now, he came here to wash dishes and chop fish to feed his family. He didn’t want us growing up there.

Realize now how hard it must have been to be 4,000 miles from home, not know the language and work at jobs far beneath you.

Can barely make it outta the Upper West Side.

He said my mom cried when he came home stinking of fish guts for the first time. She was the local beauty queen; he was now a fish monger.

I thought I married a lawyer, she said.
You once believed in me enough to marry me, he said, just wait.

She did and he became the man he knew he could be.

He says that he believed in himself even if no one else did.

He says that he believes in me. I’m actually a bit surprised he’s still pulling for me.

At least you’re not gutting fish; you’re already doing better than I was.

I’d like to be the man I think I could be. I’d like to be the man he thinks I could be.

He doesn’t know about this blog (don’t tell him). But I wanna say, Thanks anyway.

I’m very grateful.

Location: 1PM, yest., doctor’s office
Mood: sick
Music: daddy’s rich And your ma is so good-looking
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I’m on my way home

Looking for a place to call home

My insomnia’s resulting in a lot more late night eating than usual. Better hit the gym soon.

Someone from my past dropped me a meaningless email today. But it stopped me cold. It’s so weird how someone can encompass your life and then, much later, just shoot you a random email about randomness. It made me feel very much adrift.

Speaking of which, had dinner with a very old friend of mine yesterday who happens to be a head-shrinker. Told him that I just wanted to hop the next plane to anywhere and he laughed and said that, generally, people that have a desire to travel are looking for a place to call home.

How random.

Location: @11:00, in Billyburg, talking to a 23 YO communist woman
Mood: Tired
Music: tonight, tonight, I’m on my way, I’m on my way home