Hello from vacation. There’s too much to fit in – so I’m just going to hit the high points and backfill later.

Woke up this morning in Ashland, OR. It’s a funky – funky little hippie commune of a town. I woke up there because we had attended redmeds brother’s graduation from American Band College the night before. He’s got a Master’s of Music Education now – and while the speakers at the graduation were good – the concert was absolutely killer.

Anyway, woke up and went to get breakfast with redmeds parents, brother, and sister in law. We ate at Morning Glory, where I ordered the french toast stuffed with nutella and cheesecake. With maple butter. And cherry syrup. It was a little over the top.

Then we swapped out the rental cars for the one we’ll be driving to San Francisco, and hit the road. Zoom. We drove through the Rogue Valley, and then eventually hit coastal 101 and turned south, amidst the redwoods. In short order, we were in Crescent City. Picked up a map of the Redwoods National Parks, and decided to head out on the pier at the edge of town. We were walking out on said pier when I noticed EYES looking at me from the water. Eyes in a chubby little face. SEAL!!!

With that to kick us off, we drove south, stopping about every 200 feet to photograph some amazing scenery. Got to the mouth of the Klamath river and started to walk down to the overlook when SNAKE!!!! Fortunately, it was a cute little (4′) garden snake, but after that, every rustle in the grass sounded like a snake to me.

From the overlook, we saw Osprey, Pelicans, Gulls, perhaps Murres, and a whole bunch of unidentified birds.

Continuing south, we rounded a corner and saw TEN ELK!!!! They were peacefully grazing on the hillside over the road. We hung out with them for a while and then continued on.

Making our way into the driveway for the cabin where we’re staying (just north of Trinidad, on the bluffs, overlooking the ocean), we saw QUAIL, and QUAIL BABIES!!!!

Went into town, had a nice dinner, chatted up the waitress, she asked about my “Helping Hands for Haiti,” shirt, I dropped that I had gone down there after the earthquake, and she gave us pie with ice cream “for what you did.” I just about cried.

Finally, sitting on the park bench between our cabin and the ocean, watching the sun set, we’re just being quiet. I see a kitty come around the tree beyond the house. Wait – not a kitty. RACCOON!!!! He was being all chill, just goin’ to work, and then he saw us – just about lept out of his skin and skitter-skitter-skittered back around the cabin.

So that was my day. I’m gonna stay up late and watch for bear.

— EDIT —

No bear last night. Two BUNNIES on the porch though, and HUMMINGBIRDS EVERYWHERE!!!

I spent last Sunday in Detroit. Now when I say “in Detroit,” I don’t mean “chillin’ with my rich friends in Ann Arbor,” nor do I even mean “hey, I’m from Bloomfield Hills!” I mean my grandfather’s house in Highland Park. Next to Palmer Park. In the blast zone. I went to visit the house, which is still in the family primarily because it would insult me to sell it for less than $10k. I rent it to a small group of nuns doing community service in the city. Best. Tenants. Ever. I want them to be happy and to keep doing their thing.

The street is in good shape. Most of the cars have license plates. Women walk around during they day with their kids. There’s even a combination vegan cafe / chiropractor / halfway house on the corner. Let’s just say that they like cash.

The next street over, not so good. There are three houses on the block that are not condemned. There are something like a dozen houses still standing. The grass – all the way along the street – is chest high. Big pitbulls and dobermans look at you from porches as you drive by.

On the way to the airport, I went for a drive. Turns out that Lords of Acid are playing downtown this week at a club so skanky that I didn’t even slow down. Who knew that they tour? Anyway, I wanted to see the Michigan Central Railroad Station before they tear it down. This is a grand old building in the tradition of grand central and penn station. It’s ABANDONED. Like, “ownership is unclear” abandoned. Honestly, I can see both sides of the argument about refurbishing it. On the one hand, it’s a shame to let a beautiful old structure go to seed. On the other hand, it’s better to pay what’s left of the fire department than to try to do something with it.

This brings me to my point: We’re slipping – badly – when we can’t sustain what we’ve already built. Detroit was a mighty city. A capital of enterprise. To where has that innovation moved? Why are we throwing away a century of work?

I just don’t know – but I look at that train station and I see the ruins of other fallen capitals.

I see the outskirts of empire.

I see the spot where the water reached highest – before the wave broke and trickled back into the ocean.

Here’s the state of the world as I see it:

* The oil gusher in the gulf is still gushing. We were lied to from the beginning about the scale of the disaster – and we are still being fed pablum about the real extent. The public rage that might have fed initiatives to get us off of petroleum is fading in the 24 hour news cycle. Hey look! Gaga took off her clothes in public!

* We are still at war in Iraq. 90,000 troops are still over there.

* We are still at war in Afghanistan. 94,000 troops are there now. That one is going so badly that the Army general in charge decided to quit via. Rolling Stone.

* The supreme court has decided that unlimited money does not corrupt elections – and that corporations are just as entitled to buy representation as individuals (we’re screwed).

— EDIT, MORE! MORE! —

* The US economy is still boned within an inch of its life. The real un / underemployment rate is around 1 in 5. It’s unclear whether we’re going to get inflation, massive deficits, and bloated government (bad) – or deflation, WORSE unemployment, and collapse of critical government programs (bad)

* And, words cannot express, this

On the other hand, it’s sunny out and I’m going on vacation in a couple of days.

I’m now safely past the 10 year anniversary of the last time I took the stage with a college a cappella group. In honor of that, I figure it’s time to share some of the thoughts that were incubating way back when and have now come to fruition.

First off, I love you guys. No offense here if I ever sang with you, if you were ever (or still are) a fan, or whatever. However, it’s well past time to be blunt. I’m not talking to any particular year of any particular group here. As usual, I’m just talking to myself.

First off: 1) No single performance style has any sort of a lock on ‘awesome.’ Not a cappella, not spoken word, not steel drum. Nothing. Therefore: 2) Just doing a song using only your voices does not make it awesome.

It blows my mind the extent to which we believed that we could do a song better than the original artist by dint of taking away the drums and bass, and forcing a baritone to squeak out a tenor solo. It double blows my mind that I objected so strenuously to the use of amplification – that I objected to structured choreography and the basics of showmanship – and that I whinged about allocating solos to anyone but the empirically best voice for a given part. Musical groups formed exclusively for the mutual pleasure of those involved are called “chamber,” ensembles. They should meet weekly in someone’s living room to sing for each other, and have a glass of wine afterwards. However, if you choose to take your friend’s money for tickets to your show – you owe them the empirically best show you can put on. That means that the clever and well meaning bass doesn’t get a solo. Sorry, dude.

In that light, to the extent that I exercised a leadership role in my singing groups – I (seemingly) thought that I was in a chamber ensemble, and that our concerts were extensions of the chamber music to a small community of close friends. I really wanted everyone in the group to have a good time – and I pushed some really dumb musical ideas while tilting at that particular windmill. Most of the conflict that I encountered in those years of music can be traced to this unacknowledged bias. That, or the fact that I was sort of a self-involved dick. One or the other.

To my credit, I knew this at the time. I had glimmerings – and I was starting to talk about how there is value to art made for each other in a small group, rather than pablum sold to the masses for profit. Value to the ability to make our own entertainment rather than being spoon fed. Value to finding a way to contribute to your community rather than just finding a job. Value to art and passion. I didn’t know what to do with that, back then. Now I do: Small venues for donations – if you feel like it. We wanted to be rock stars – and we gimped ourselves along the way.

To the point: 3) A cappella is not a great voicing for rock.

From time to time I hear a song on the internet and think ‘that would be good a cappella.’ Far more often, I hear one and think ‘dear god, we would have mangled that.’

Hm, thought there was more to that thought. Oh well.

Yesterday was a good day. I made a conscious decision to steal the entire day for myself. Seriously. A whole day.

Rose from my slumbers (surprisingly early) and tootled over to Zingerman’s deli. Got the salmon on a bagel, and a big glass of coffee. I proceeded to read another hundred pages or so in the monstrous tome that will be defeated by me. Read in particular about Martin Luther and his propensity for irritating The Man. Sounds like a real hell-raiser – so to speak.

Then I made my way across town in a big, vague, circumambulation. Stopped off at at least three “used and rare” book stores – finding a couple of small treasures. Also stopped off to touch the wall of the Bell Tower hotel, where my mom – for no reason we’ve been able to figure out – encountered the Dalai Lama by the lobby elevator. That chance encounter changed the trajectory of both her life and mine … so I like to wander past when I have the time.

Made my way to the Diag and picked a promising bench. The bell tower was chiming noon, and I decided to sit and try to settle my mind until 1pm. Failing that – I would just sit in the park and watch the world go by. At one point one of the 10lb diag squirrels informed me (from about a foot away) that it was traditional to feed the squirrels. For luck. At least, that’s what I took him to be saying. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any spare food with me.

As the bell tower rang the end of my thinking-thoughts period, a couple fo Latter Day Saints evangelists wandered up to me. They can’t have been more than 22 years old … despite the title of “Elder” that they both wore. We had a nice chat about their beliefs (real, physical, male god – truth revealed through Jesus, corrupted by man, re-revealed later … but I sorta knew that). They asked about my beliefs – so I did my best to explain the four noble truths of Buddhism. Since they had mentioned that they’re a faith that believes in self improvement through thought and study – I leaned on that part a bit. We parted on good terms.

Went to Meijer and bought new toiletries. Came back to the hotel and found my toiletry kit, fallen by the side of the bed. Rasafracka. Suited up and headed to the wedding.

Wedding was beautiful. Dave and Mandy bring together a fun mix of people. Basically, the whole LJ crowd was there – I won’t even attempt a listing. Readings were read from the Bible, from Rush, and from Anne of Green Gables. We sang. We affirmed our assent with the somewhat nontraditional “so say we all.” Props to both bride and groom for sticking to your guns and designing a highly personal, inclusive, yet moving and dignified ceremony.

Then onward to the reception. Dancing, some of it with bride and groom on chairs held up on our shoulders. Singing. Frisbee. Food – sneakily all vegan. I liked that bit – no muss, no fuss, and no snitty little signs – but everything on offer was vegan friendly. Now that’s how to be a thoughtful host.

I found myself drawing more and more inward, and feeling no urge whatsoever to dominate conversation and make people look at me. I was – for lack of a better word – very deeply happy and content. I simply sat with a social group of accepting and intelligent people, and existed with them. How wonderful.

Finally, at the end of the night, mcniadh and I were among the last to leave. Perhaps dead last except for the waitstaff. We had parked next to each other, and wound up tooling down the twisty bits of some back road together. I had decided to put “Fireflies” by Owl City on the stereo to drive me home. As we pulled up to the light where I would go left and he would go right – it came to the second verse. We looked at each other through the open car windows and shared one last smile. Heading into the refrain, the light turned green and we went our separate ways.

“To ten million fireflies, I’m weird ’cause I hate goodbyes
I got misty eyes as they said farewell.
But I’ll know where several are, if my dreams get real bizarre,
Cause I saved a few and I keep them in a jar.”

–EDIT–

Fine, I’m stuck at the airport. Here’s the list of LJ people I saw: _earthshine_, capital_l, logangrey, mcniadh, rev_e, rossja, simianpower, technolope. Also, it was a de-facto meeting of the rvnn, but that’s TOP SECRET.

This has been a hell of a week – with a rather epic conclusion. To sum up:

I woke up at ass:30 on Monday to catch the 5:25am train to New York. Worked a day for the Mt. Sinai School of Medicine, and caught the 7pm train back home. Spent Tuesday writing a report for them.

On Wed, I caught the 2:40, no wait 3:45, ummm maybe 5:00, aw hell – 7:00 flight to Indianapolis – getting to the hotel at ass:15. Fortunately, the little pub around the corner was still cooking pizza – so I soaked in the Americana of a bar / restaurant where they still allow smoking. Turns out that I had sort of missed midwestern people. They’re polite. They’re friendly. It was weird – plus they were all smoking.

Worked Thursday and Friday for The Man – which was actually a joy. I only rarely get a gig where the organization is not yet entirely aflame. I hope that with a little judicious advice, I might have been bale to steer them away from the most common mistakes I’ve seen. Wound up sampling both Granite City brewpub, and Scotty’s Brewhouse. Downtown Indianapolis has been savaged by the recession. The only things not boarded up are bars. Seriously. It’s bad. Fortunately, it’s an urban college campus – but man – it’s bad.

Today, after work, I drove back the IND and swapped out my crappy car for a hot little Mustang. Also swapped out the corporate card paid rental contract for a stone cold FREE rental on my frequent traveller points. Of course that’s “free,” paid in nights away from my wife and grey hair – but hey. FREE.

Got on the road around 6pm and hauled ass up to Ann Arbor, to attend a wedding this weekend. Rolled in to the hotel around 10:30pm. Checked in, and then decided to go get a pint at Arbor Brewing Company. Technically, I had two – since they had cask conditioned, hand pulled versions of both a barrel aged stout and an IPA. That place has been doing microbrews since before microbrews were cool. They provided the kegs for my wedding. I’ve got loyalty.

On a side note, if anyone has a line on their old-school “beer, just like mom used to make” shirts – I’ll take one of those for a birthday present. Thanks. I wear a men’s medium. I’ll swim in a large.

After that, I decided to sit and soak in the atmosphere (since the city wide party was only just getting started at midnight), so I found my way to the old Rendez Vous, which offers both (a) roof deck seating and (b) hookahs. Ordered my hookah-for-one (mint flavored) and settled in at a table. I was just seriously getting into the RSS feeds on my phone when the kids at the next table were like “hey dude, you wanna sit with us?” So I moved my hookah over, plugged in the hose from their dead one to my live one (duh, I can’t kill a whole hookah), and chatted with 20 year olds for an hour. They were actually pretty cool. I tried to avoid talking about The Good Old Days, but I did have to brag about going to the Rose Bowl the last year that Michigan didn’t really suck at football (1997). Ah kids. They were at the phase where they had already invented drinking – but they haven’t invented mid-life stress and management responsibilities yet.

Eventually I excused myself, being actually tired – and also wanting to not get sucked into some weird spiral of being the old dude attached to their endless 20 year old party. It was nice of them to invite me over – but it was also appropriate to bail after 45 minutes. Now I’m back at the hotel – fully prepared to sleep until whenever:20 tomorrow, prior to an early lunch at either Zingerman’s or Seva – followed by WEDDINGFEST.

Epic. My life rules. Is totally normal.

–EDIT–

Turns out, on inspection, that I left 100% of my toiletries in the other hotel this morning. Toothbrush, razor, pomade, floss, various pills and additives. The whole ke-boodle.

So, I don’t rule so much as I might have implied.

Rasafracka.

Yesterday, morning I was 100% – stone cold – freaked out about work. I had too many things to do and not nearly enough time to do them. Besides that, I’m supposed to be providing some kinda guidance to other members of my team. If I can’t get *my* work done – how am I supposed to guide them? So, I put my head down and plowed through a large amount of tasks. I was nowhere near “done,” (frankly, I no longer believe in that mythical place called “done”) when I closed my laptop around 5:30 and took the cat to the vet.

After coming home, Jen and I picked up the cooler containing the fresh caught 5lb cod from our CSF, the kale and arugula from the CSA, and hopped in the car to go over to capital_l and technolopes place. We cooked dinner, drank some wine, and laughed and talked until about 11. Not once did any of us check our email – despite all being in the same boat, work-wise. We got home and fell into bed around midnight – and today I resumed my mad scramble. I’m writing this from terminal ‘A’ of Boston Logan – leaving on the second business trip of the week. Seriously.

This sort of balance is essential. I gave up at the end of work yesterday, and simply abandoned myself to time with friends. I could have stayed home and worked – and a few years ago I would have said that I “should have.” This begs the question of “whose should,” and it turns out not to be mine.

We “should” do this for each other, because we are friends … and because this is the only life we get. Because there’s no such thing as “done,” and because at this point in our careers, work will take all the time its given. It is every individual human being’s job to figure out how to live a better, happier life … and to help the people around them if they can spare the cycles.

It’s a marathon, not a sprint. I may never be caught up – but I don’t plan on skipping Fish Fry Tuesdays for anything less than being out of town … and even then I’ll Skype in if I can.

Maia (the older cat) had an appointment with the vet yesterday. She’s not a fan of the kitty carrier – so we usually sneak up on her. The usual routine is to put the carrier in the next room with the top lid open. Then with great coo-ing and gentle murmuring, you pick up the cat and gently stroke her head as you casually stroll into the room where you left the carrier. WIth luck, there’s only a token struggle, since she’s already in the carrier by the time she wakes up.

Yesterday, I was apparently some kinda idiot.

She’s taken to napping on the pile of clean towels in the laundry room. I brought the carrier to the hallway just outside said room, and then took a little kitty toy-on-a-string and started teasing it around the door frame. “Maia!” I called out – and peeked in to see her raise her ears in interest. She hopped off the towels and followed the toy to the door. At that point, she saw the carrier, looked at me with raw horror at this betrayal, and went sprinting down the back stairs.

I took off after her, and rounded the downstairs corner just in time to see her rocket up the front stairs. I started to realize the problem at that point. So I went upstairs, determined that she was under the dresser in the bedroom. I retrieved the carrier, and put it on the bed, and addressed her: “Easy way or hard way?”

She didn’t move, so I took my cat-poking stick and swept it horizontally under the dresser. Man, that cat can scream. Again, she rockets past, down the front stairs. I chased her – up the back stairs, and back under the dresser.

Finally regaining my senses – I shut both the bedroom doors and poked her again. I’ve rarely heard such a sad and hopeless sound as when she ran first to one door, then to the other. “Moooooowwwwwuuu.” Again with the look of sadness and betrayal. Again with “easy way or hard way?”

She hopped on the bed and looked at me. Then she offered only token resistance as I crammed her in the carrier.

All in all, I call it a moral victory for the cat. She outsmarted me for two full iterations, and she knew when I had her overmatched with the horrid “shut the door” technology.

I want to write something, but I’m just blank. Too much business travel does this to me. I have hours free on the train today – which I always claim I’ll use to some productive purpose. I could have caught up on emails, run some numbers, written an essay, updated the materials for the Atheist society scholarship – anything. Instead I read a whole web comic, and now I’m poking feebly at RSS feeds. So much to do – and I just can’t bring myself to give a damn about it.

“Every bit of energy, you try to give away.”

Well, just one more trip this week, and then another week of work before vacation.

H’okay. So the purposes of the internet are (a) self-involved drama and (b) pictures of cats. If you’re allergic to either of those, stop reading now.

First things first, here’s a picture of the new (as yet unnamed) cat – pushing her luck with Maia. New cat just really, really wants love. She started out life in a family where dad had to go to jail, which landed her in the shelter. At the shelter, she promptly popped out four kittens. She lived in s boss’s house for eight weeks with the kittens, where we met and fell in love with her. Now she’s a new mom just weaned from her babies. She wants LOVE. She’s always coming up and exchanging nose-kisses with Maia. Maia didn’t like this at all – hissing – growling – and making this a amazing “RAOUL” noise. Seriously. “RAOUL.” I didn’t know that she could make that noise.

As of today, two days in, Maia started accepting the nose kisses in good grace. With that as progress, new cat tried to crawl into the kitty cup with her. Maia was like “oh hell no, no spooning.” So – it proceeds.

Onward to part (a): I’m stuck at the airport this evening. My flight (Airtran flight 643, thanks for asking) was supposed to leave around 8:50pm. It’s currently scheduled for 12:48 in the After Midnight. That puts us in Norfolk at around 3am, rather than 10:45pm. At this point I’m committed. They’ll get me there tonight, I’ll go to the hotel and sleep in for a while – then go to work when I get up. The other option is to fail forward to the 11:40am flight that gets me there by 2pm. At that point … gah. I just don’t care.

The security team has departed, meaning that we can’t get back into the gate if we leave. So it’s sort of a slumber party atmosphere here in the ass-terminal of unit C of the Boston Logan metroplex. I got some cheering when I found a stepstool and tried to forcibly disable the Tee-Vee that blares its ceaseless noise and propaganda down on our increasingly defenseless ears. However, they seem to have encountered one like me before. The buttons are disabled, and all the cables are shielded behind a frame that’s attached with security screws.

So I’m writing email and stuff – and then I realize that the corporate mail server is f-ed up again. Looks like the data center where we house our stuff has crapped itself yet one more time.

Bah. Cats are better – even if they say RAOUL at all hours of the night.