Oh, right, a blog

So I refuse to do the thing where I say, "I've been really bad about posting on my blog, and from this point on blah, blah, blah...". Because I know it will never happen. I'm terrible at posting things on a schedule, be it writing, photography, or anything else I'm doing "just for me." So I'm sure it will be another 8 months before it even occurs to me to post something here again. [Note to future self: Welcome to April! How was winter?]

That said, I thought I would record a few things that came up this weekend. For posterity's sake. For example:

During a game of Streaky Bacon, the phrase "pants-destroying erection" was written. Good god, what a thought. A few days later, during a conversation about god knows what, (although I believe the phrase "Throbbing Member" was ultimately to blame), the idea was presented that human development -- puberty in particular -- would be a lot different if, every time someone got a raging erection, it was accompanied by a raucous Dub-step beat. It would most likely be unique to the individual -- which introduced a whole new trait for which females could select, (take this sample conversation: "So how was your date with Todd?" "He was really attractive, but man he just didn't have a good rhythm. I can't be with a guy with no rhythm.")

Also, it would be singularly impossible to hide the offending erection when, for example, you were called to answer a question during 7th grade math class.

"Now who can tell me the answer to question 3? Jimmy?"
"BBWWAAUUMM WAM WAM WAM WAAAUUUMM BBWWAAUUMM WAUM..."
"Now settle down, class, It's a part of life. He can't help it. Can you, Jimmy?"
"BBWAAUUMM WAM WAM WAAUUM..."

...I sure am glad we can still have intelligent conversations around here.

On a totally different note, it's almost Halloween, and while I've never cared a great deal about my costume, I have developed a certain passion for pumpkin carving. So I have two days to come up with an amazing design. Here are my pumpkins from the last few years, for inspiration:


Morpheus - 2009


Cthulhu Pumpkin - 2008


The Nightmare Before Christmas - 2007

Notes from China

I recently returned from a trip to China, during which I had an amazing time. I kept in touch with my family, because quite frankly they would have sent in the Red Cross if they hadn't heard from me in a few days. I epically failed, however, to include the rest of people on these emails to my family, which turned out, in the end, to be more of a semi-daily journal of events. In order to share my adventures more fully, I have copied all of those emails here, (with a few edits for coherence's sake). Yes, it's long; if you want the true email experience, read it every few days over the course of two weeks.

---

Mon, July 20 -

It's been sort of a whirlwind start to my China tour. After my flight from Boston to New York, and then the 14-hour flight from JFK to Beijing, (which took me from Wednesday morning into Thursday evening, an event which I'm still not confident follows conventional science), my flight to Chengdu got delayed almost two hours. I sat in the airport sort of napping, reading, and generally keeping busy until a group of Chinese children made camp across the seats from me. After almost an hour of noise and chaos, one of them approached me.

"Hello," he said, "what is your name?" The conversation quickly evolved into a game of let-me-practice-my-english-on-the-American-tourist, and when he asked "What do you do?" I was confronted with trying to explain my juggling career. I hesitated; no words came to my mouth. Instead, I pulled out my juggling balls and did a demonstration. I did some basic juggling (including a relatively successful attempt at 5-ball, which I'm still working on), which was greeted by the boy, his friends, and all of the people around me with delighted applause. This was followed by a barrage of people asking questions, and then to take their picture with me. Group shots, family shots, etc. International celebrity status.

I didn't arrive in Chengdu until 2am, where a tired Karen met me at the airport and hailed us a cab. After now 29 hours of travel, I was barely coherent. We got to her apartment and promptly fell asleep. The next day, however, we were up at 8am to go BACK TO THE AIRPORT. Turns out, Catherine (karen's mom) scored us some hard-to-get vacation time at a Tibetan settlement/village city called SongPan in a reserve called JiuZhaiGou in the mountains an hour or so north of Chengdu by flight, (the only road from Chengdu to JiuZhaiGou was recently destroyed by an earthquake, so the many-hour bus ride was not an option. Phew). It was a great trip overall, lots of hiking in the mountains and lakes and waterfalls, and nice cool weather, (compared to the disgustingly humid 85+ degrees here in Chengdu), and a delightful tour guide to show us around. Again, more people asking to take pictures with Karen and me, and the rest of the American teachers with whom we were touring. Apparently, this is quite common. In any case, the scenery was amazing, and I have several hundred pictures which I'm sure you will see when I get back. I am also learning the numbers 1 through 10, (Yi, Er, San, Si, Wu, Liu, Qi, Ba, Jiu, Shi! ...with spelling correction by Karen).

Now we're back in Chengdu sitting in the "air conditioned" internet cafe, although I'm still sweating. I sat in on a lecture by Karen and Grace (Karen's sister) this afternoon. They discussed American culture by region, including food and agriculture. Then the class devolved into history and politics, none of which they're quite qualified to be teaching, but they did their best. We're meeting up with Catherine for dinner tonight, who (hopefully) will give me some more information about what I'm doing here, and whether or not I'm paying for all of my meals. I brought along my Canadian busking money to change, although the bank rejected one of the $5 bills for being a bit ripped. "You can spend this in Canada," the bank teller said, "but not here." Well, yes.

Anyway, my jet-lag has been minimal due to my inability to sleep on planes, so I settled into things pretty easily. The food has been fabulous -- Sichuan province is known for spicy food, which so far has been delicious -- and you'll be happy to know that I'm eating lots of vegetables whose names I simply don't know in English. I am still, however, avoiding the mushrooms.

I'll write again in a day or two, I'm sure. On days that I'm not "working", I'll basically be wandering the streets. This should be an entertaining adventure.

"Zai jian" from China!
-Tim

---

Tues. July 21 -

Ni hao from Chengdu!

Exciting news: This morning we witnessed a partial (EDIT: total) solar eclipse! Or, rather, we witnessed the world suddenly getting very dark and then very light again six minutes later. It's been very overcast/rainy the last few days, and while we were supposed to be right in line with the path of the eclipse, the cloud cover made it pretty much impossible to tell where the sun even WAS to begin with. But we drank our tea in the momentary darkness, and still it felt like witnessing something special. A total eclipse is an event which is not expected to be visible like this for another 5,000 years or so. Hopefully, the weather will be better then!

Yesterday Karen and Grace took me to their favorite noodle place for dinner. The food has been wonderful so far, (Sichuan province is known for their spicy food), and this place didn't disappoint. The spices here follow a ying-yang principle: two spices that balance each other, the "ma" and the "la". We've been eating plenty of spicy foods since I got here a few days ago, (the "la" spice), but this was one of my first authentic experiences with the "ma", which is based on the Sichuan peppercorn. This is a spice unlike any in the states. It tends to make your whole mouth tingle and go almost numb; a great counterpoint to the spicy "la" flavor, which makes your nose run like a faucet. The noodles were amazing, as were the "things on sticks," which were various vegetables on skewers which were cooked in a pot of broth filled with either the "ma" or the "la" spices. Some spicy pigeon eggs followed by some mouth-numbing potato slices... delicious.

I'm out of time here at the internet cafe, and I'm going to be late for lunch, so I will write again later on. Tomorrow I go down to XinJin, the city where I'll be doing most of the computer work for which I'm here in the first place. Hopefully I'll have time to write again down there.

Zai jian!
-Tim

---

Thurs. July 23 -

Ni hao from XinJin!

We arrived in XinJin last night via taxi, the city in which I'll sporadically be working while I'm here. When we came in it was dark, and as we drove along one side of the river, we could look across the water and see lots of buildings lit up with colorful neon lights. It reminded me of the boathouses along the river in Philadelphia, except without any sense of grace or coherence. A little tacky, really, but still quite a sight. Anyway, they put up all the visiting teachers in "the best hotel in town", (which is quite nice of course, but nothing like a nice hotel in the states), so this is where I'll be while I'm in XinJin.

This morning I awoke at 6.45am, (the earliest wake-up call of the trip so far, not counting the 5am departure from JiuZhaiGou), and had a small breakfast of steamed bread. Then we got onto the yellow school bus which took us the short ride to the school. Fun story: apparently, a few years ago some of the Chinese faculty here came to visit America and see an elementary and middle school there. After several days of observing, they returned to China and made one major change to their own school system: yellow school buses. Which, it turns out, amounted to a van being painted yellow and getting the words "school bus" written on the side. Wonderful.

I spent the morning looking around at the school's computers to "analyze their capabilities." The eventual goal is to wire the school such that students and teachers here in XinJin can have live video lessons with students and teachers in Catherine's school in Colorado. To begin, I met at length with Principal Xie, (first order of business: he invited me to his office where he served me tea that was locally grown and famous in XinJin). After talking about my trip so far and where I came from in the United States, he told me a little bit about the history of the city. Apparently there were 10 dynasty changes in this city, whereas there was only 1 in Chengdu. (Or something like that. It was a little hard to understand him).

After looking at the computers, the principal and a number of the elementary school teachers took Catherine, Karen and myself out to lunch at a wonderful duck soup restaurant. My mom noted to me that it seems like all we ever do is eat, and that really is true -- meal times are a big deal here. It also turns out that, in formal settings like this one, there is a very strict seating system based on your status in the group. Unbeknownst to me at the time, they put me at the position of honor for the meal -- the head of the table, and the furthest from the door. On one side of me was the principal; on the other was one of the head teachers at the school, and one of only teachers that spoke decent English. Also, all the men sit along one side and all the women along the other side. Very odd. The meal was great -- whole ducks sitting in boiling broth in the center of the table, with individual bowls of spicy sauce for each person -- and then as we sat there, the waitress brought out tray after tray of different kinds of mushrooms and tossed them into the broth to cook. Last night, I happened to put a temporary hiatus on my not eating mushrooms because they were in the fried rice, and now suddenly I was presented with more species of mushroom than I had ever seen before, let alone eaten. No sooner had they cooked than the teacher to my immediate right began to serve me, dropping things indiscriminately into my spice dish for me. Well, I have now officially eaten a great many mushrooms, including several species that I had never seen before, not even in nature documentaries. And I'll admit that with the spice sauce, they weren't half bad. The meal also included tripe, which I understand is some sort of intestinal something-or-other, and has quite a texture to it, like eating a shaved-down Koosh ball. The duck, of course, was delicious, although I couldn't make heads or tails of the duck feet with which I was presented. My stomach felt a little funny for the rest of the afternoon, which I'm going to chalk up to drastic dietary change.

After lunch, we headed out for a stroll around the city. Mom asked me if the cities here are like American cities, or if they have a distinctly older feel. I would describe it more like an old city with a sudden influx of modern people. Some of the architecture is old-world stuff, buildings with pointed roofs and dragon heads at the corners. But a great deal of the city feels like it was built quickly to accommodate a lot of people. Shops are crammed together---fruit vendor next to hardware store next to upscale shoe store. Wandering around today, Karen and I found ourselves in a wholesale fruit market with mountains of watermelons, which led into a series of booths selling tshirts and shoes, which spit us back out onto the road with the beauty salons, corner markets and lingerie stores. The city does this frequently, going from an old, cobblestone, covered-market feel to a more modern, busy, cars-honking, lights-flashing city at the turn of a corner.

It's also tough as a pedestrian, since traffic seems to have no rules whatsoever. Cars regularly honk just to let you know they're coming up behind you, or merging into another lane, or coming around a turn, etc. And the number of bicycles is staggering, not to mention the number of pedicabs, which are rickshaw-like bicycle taxis. This is true in both Chengdu and Xinjin, although XinJin is MUCH smaller and thus offers a more bicycle-friendly atmosphere. It's all a jumble, and people are everywhere.

Also, people like to stare, since I would estimate there are about 12 white Americans in this city of 70,000 people. We stick out. One of the American teachers on the program, a wonderful, crazy grandmother named Susie, is so outgoing that she says hello to anyone who stares for longer than a second, and often will go and chat in halting conversation with complete strangers. Walking back from dinner tonight, we stopped at a tea shop because the family of owners were sitting around a large table of fresh jasmine flowers, picking the stems from the petals, and they smelled delicious; before we knew it, Susie was sitting at a table with the family, de-stemming a pile of jasmine flowers right along with them.

And then it turns out that it's the season for chili peppers, which are the key ingredient for the "La" spice that is so important here, and out on the sidewalks are piles and piles of the peppers out to dry in the heat. Walking to dinner, we passed some women who were grinding it into a paste and storing it in vast quantities in huge, earthenware jars. We asked how much they had, and they said something like 10,000 pounds. Yes, ten thousand pounds! They had a whole garage full of them!

One last story before I crash for the night (and be warned, this is not for the faint of stomach): After dinner, Karen, myself and another teacher with the program named Mike took a walk down to the waterfront to take some pictures of the lit up buildings we had seen coming in along the river the night before. We did, and had a nice stroll, and were almost back to the hotel when we came across a man surrounded by 4 or 5 people, and this man was tying a 4 1/2-foot long snake to a tree. No, really---he had tied twine around its head and was hanging it from the tree. We couldn't figure out why at first until he took out his pocket knife and began to cut the skin from just below the head. He then began to pull the skin back from the snake -- which was still wriggling, mind you. He was pulling it down like a tube sock, one that was attached directly to the muscle. Best we could tell via Karen's translation, they found it in the trees nearby, (a rare find, we hope), and had decided to skin it for the meat. After the skinning -- which took some doing; at one point, the head actually ripped off from the force and he had to re-tie the rest of the body to the tree -- the man pulled out the stomach and intestines all in one go. He then put it all in a plastic bag and took it with him.

So far, this puts my animal slaughter count at three: at the market in JiuZhaiGou, I watched a goat be slaughtered at the meat market, and then I saw a chicken go from clucking to bleeding out in a box to totally limp and de-feathered in about five minutes. All in all, it's been a trip full of experiences... and I've got a whole week left!

On a sunnier note to close, I'll be heading back to Chengdu tomorrow, and this weekend I will hopefully be going to visit the Panda Reserve. I'll be sure to take plenty of pictures of these dopey yet adorable animals.

Zai jian,
-Tim

---

Sun. July 26 -

Ni hao!

I'm back in Chengdu with Karen and her sister, Grace. I return to the states on Wed. morning, so this is likely to be my last email until I get home.

As promised, this weekend took me to the Panda Breeding Center. One of Chengdu's most famous attractions, the Panda Breeding Center boasts one of the largest panda populations in China; the giant pandas, as you probably know, are on the endangered species list. As a species, pandas require a very large territory, and as humans encroach further and further into their land, the pandas become more scarce. The thing that is less commonly known about pandas is that they have a great deal of trouble breeding in the first place. It seems that the male reproductive organs are so small that, often, they cannot reach the female reproductive organs at all. A pretty poor design, really. So here in Chengdu, they have created a special breeding center to help preserve this national treasure, and also to promote panda copulation, even if it means artificial insemination.

Long story short, the Panda Breeding Center is a large outdoor zoo. Many of the paths are surrounded by bamboo plants, (the panda's primary diet), which are often shaped to curve up and over the paths, creating a sort of natural archway/tunnel. All of which would have been very picturesque had it not been steadily raining all morning. So we met up with the other teachers from XinJin, as well as a bunch of American exchange students and their host brothers/sisters and, after purchasing some cheap plastic ponchos for 3 Yuan, (the Chinese currency), we ventured out into the park. It should be noted that pandas are large, lazy creatures who, especially in the heat and humidity of Chengdu, spend most of the day either sitting on their butts eating bamboo or sleeping. Karen warned me that the last time she went there, most of the bears were just sitting there scratching their privates. We were positively lucky, then, that we caught a few of the bears munching on large bundles of bamboo plants, or walking around trying to find a place out of the rain, (just like us, really). A few of the other teachers had umbrellas, so I tried to do some guerrilla photography by slipping in and using them for protection from the rain when they had a good vantage point. I haven't gone through the photos yet, but I might have a few good ones.

After the panda reserve, we went to visit an active Buddhist temple. Karen loves this temple; because monks still live and pray there, it has not yet become just another tourist attraction. People tend to stay quiet and respectful, and it has a slow and peaceful quality that is hard to find in the city at large. This temple has an active history of over 600 years, which is older than pretty much everything we know in America. Karen explained a lot about the different Buddha statues, (she was a religion major, and focused largely on Eastern religions), most of which I've already gotten confused. I lit some incense and said a prayer for my family, and took some photos where I was allowed. It was very beautiful, with wonderful ornate statues and paintings, scrolls and murals. Every architectural detail seemed like it had been completed with great care.

Afterward, we wandered up an old-style street, which nowadays has been largely converted into shops. After some very wet shopping, (yes, it was still raining), we found ourselves a taxi and came back home. For dinner we went to a small noodle place where I watched them prepare the noodles by pounding and stretching the dough with their bare hands, over and over again. They were served in a salty broth with beef and vegetables; on the table was some ground chili pepper as well as red Sichuan vinegar. The vinegar is used here far more commonly than soy sauce -- I haven't been able to discern whether that is an American bastardization of Chinese cooking, (like most things on a Chinese food menu), or whether it is a regional variation. In any case, I proved to myself that I'm getting much better with chop sticks.

Tomorrow I will be helping Karen, Grace, and Dave, (the other American teacher here in Chengdu) with their conversation class tomorrow. Don't worry, this doesn't involve working with kids; their students are overwhelmingly young professionals or university professors who may have received invitations to work/study in America, so these are very smart adults who already have an elementary understanding of English. In theory, I'll just be helping guide a discussion in English about some cultural topic or another, so it should be pretty fun. We're also trying to cram in some last-minute sight seeing: we may visit Dushu's cottage, (a famous Chinese poet), or perhaps the historic museum of Chengdu. In any case, I'll let you know once I get home.

Zai jian,
-Tim

Hawks!

No, I'm not cheering for St. Joe's, though I should also give a hearty congratulations to my cousin Kevin for his ever-approaching graduation from said institution of higher learning.

Instead, I'm linking to an amazing slice of urban wildlife. Nestled in a windowsill of the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia, there is a nest constructed several months ago by some honest-to-god hawks. A live streaming web-cam was installed on the inside of the window to sneak a peak at this marvel of nature. The chicks have hatched now -- apparently, the hatching process was quite amazing -- and are now adorable little piles of fluff who stumble about and try to eat scraps of food that are bigger than they are. It is worth glimpsing, even for just a minute.

http://www2.fi.edu/hawknest.php

The world we live in is amazing. Not only that these birds are able to nestle into the city that grew up around them, but that we are able to watch it, live, from wherever we are.

Technology is neat.

Update: I'm Not Dead

RECAP: So last Friday, while doing your everyday Atlas balance on Jeremy, I fell out of my standard upside-down orientation and rolled my neck pretty badly. Badly to the point of passing out and collapsing. Twice. After several hours in the ER strapped to an orange plastic backboard and getting stuck through a cat scan machine, it was decided that, while I hadn't broken or displaced any discs in my spine, I had most likely torn some muscles and/or ligaments in there someplace. Anyway, here's some drugs that will make you feel like a total zombie. Don't do anything for a few weeks. Crap. So A Different Spin placed a call to its West coast members and prepared to bite the monetary bullet to fly Alex out to Boston so he could go to Atlanta in my place for our first real gig of the season.

Update: Eff that. After two days of wearing my very stylish foam neck brace and being numb to the world, I decided to start rationing my drug use and testing range of motion again. I'd take the intense pain shooting between my shoulder blades over that crap any day. Turns out, my condition was improving. After another day, I had stopped taking my narcotics entirely; by Wednesday, I was out juggling with the boys again. God, it felt good to get out and do. Stuff. Anything, as long as it wasn't clouded by prescription drugs. By Thursday, we had an honest-to-God rehearsal again, and called Alex back to tell him we wouldn't need him after all. Friday we ran our fire show, built ourselves some new staves, and felt generally confident.

And now I sit in the internet cafe of the Sheraton hotel in downtown Atlanta at 2am, eating the sandwich I made myself at 5pm as we left our apartment in Boston. Our ski bag full of fire toys actually made it through airport security, and tomorrow should be an excellent day, provided we can track down a stupid Walmart that actually has some stupid fuel.

And I promised not to do anything upside-down until the machinery in my neck are back to one hundred percent, and I will keep my word; but at this rate, I think I'll be flipping over audience members in another week or two.

Photography At f/1.8, or "How To Distract Yourself From A Serious Neck Injury"

Still Life, with Percocet.

Today had a distinct high point and low point. The high point was the arrival of my new Nikkor AF F/1.8D portrait lens, which operates in an exceedingly friendly way with my new Nikon D80 D-SLR. After months of hemming and hawing, I finally sold my Olympus to a friend here in Boston and dove headfirst into the world of Ebay in all its glory. The camera arrived maybe two weeks ago, followed up by some filters and a memory card. So I cannot begin to describe how excited I am that, with the F/1.8's arrival, my new photography kit is now complete.

The low point of the day was the grievous neck injury I incurred while attempting the Atlas balance during rehearsal at the YMCA this morning. After some serious pain and two prolonged black-outs -- my thanks to Jeremy for catching me both times before I pitched into the bathroom wall -- I got strapped to an orange plastic backboard and loaded into an ambulance. The CT scan showed that I didn't do any serious damage to the vertebrae or spinal column; still, it's likely that I tore a few muscles and/or ligaments along the left side of my neck and that I won't be doing a great deal of flipping, spinning, or really much of anything in the near future. All things considered, it could have been a lot worse. So I'm thankful for that, I suppose.

But I don't understand how people can get addicted to drugs like Percocet; in my mind, it will forever be associated with the excruciating pain shooting up between my shoulder blades, and why would I want to remind myself of that?

More ADS Designs

Circus Arts Shows Poster (8 1/2 x 11):

Fire Shows Poster (8 1/2 x 11):

A Different Spin Got Talent

A Different Spin is for realz, y'all. For the last month or so, we have been doing our damndest to pull ADS together as a legitimate business. Which is hard when you're dealing with four people as ridiculous as ourselves, but still, we're doing it. This involves a lot more than I would have thought going into it. We are practicing upwards of six days a week, two hours a day. We are constantly writing and rewriting our routines to make them smoother and more entertaining. I have cut and recut the same three songs so many times that I'm not sure I remember what the original tracks actually sound like.

And that's just the performance aspect of it. On top of the 10-12 hours of rehearsal time each week, we're doing our best to be an active business practice. Ricky and I have been graphic designing our asses off to get ready for the APCA National Conference in Atlanta. Since the APCA conference is really focusing on the fall, Mooch and I have been submerged in more college calling, while Ricky and Jeremy are hunting down spring and summer festivals. We've also registered as an official partnership, gotten a tax ID number and opened a business bank account.

And to prove it, here are some of the finished products that Ricky and I have spent what must be hundreds of cumulative hours designing. Goooo team!

Business Card (front and back):	Full Page Ad:
Tri-Fold Brochure (outside, interior):
2' x 6' Vinyl Banner:

In the Temple

We climb the twisting stair
which creaks and groans
beneath our leathered feet, each
voice calling silently after us
as we meet these strings of music that
hang so delicately above;
and we watch the sky fade
here above the earth,
and we hear the desert roar
and toss its wild mane, breathing
hard across the backs of giants
who sleep around us as the sun
rises higher.

We are ghosts
who wander in twos, or threes,
or alone,
through sweeping white dust,
appearing and reappearing at the whim
of the winds that swirl
and howl through twinkling strings
of music that hang above,
each silver sliver that shines
in the muted sunlight.

And as we pass each to each
we never see another soul,
hearing only the white sounds, the faint
moans and songs of those beside us,
closing our eyes and breathing deeply
these clouds through our nostrils
that we might feel the air,
turning and returning through the ash and smoke,
and get to know this spirit better.

And it does not rain, here among these
ghosts and wanderers, yet I feel
the faintest drops against my cheek,
and I can stare at the afternoon sun
hanging moon-like behind the veil;
it does not rain, for every hand
is held outstretched
to taste the white rays that wash
and flow around our every curve.

And I hear nothing, and I cannot see
the sky above, nor the shrouded shapes
that once stood all around,
nor feel the pulsing beat of this city
which once sounded and resounded
through the day, and the one before;
I hear nothing,
and oh, how loudly it speaks
to me.

He Returns From the Desert

I try not to make this blog about writing journal entries. I don't like writing journal entries. I realize their potential for self-reflection and reliving ones past experiences, but I have such a hard time actually putting my words down in any sort of permanent form because I fear they will not do justice to the experience itself.

I spent this last week in August living in the dry, arid, lifeless desert at the Burning Man festival, and it was amazing. I had the great fortune of being allowed to arrive early to help build our camp, and as a result I got to see the community grow from the ground up. To watch a city of 50,000 people rise up out of the dust and fill in the dotted outline stitched into the waiting desert was fascinating. To feel simultaneously out of place and at peace with the people and the world around you was exhausting. To live in a place with such an excited, pulsing heartbeat of music and movement, knowing all the time that in seven days it will all disperse and trickle back into the veins of real life is exhilarating. It was an experience I will never forget, but also one that I could never -- not in a million years -- capture with my words.

I will try, of course. I will write about going on a hunt through the midday sun for a slice of apple pie and instead finding a large tent with the words, "Hard Cider: Quench Your Dust" written on its side. An oasis, it would seem, greeting us with rare luck and fortune. We wandered around the side and in moments found ourselves chatting amicably with Tommy, an Irishman from Galway who now owns a pub in Santa Barbara. This was his ninth trip to Burning Man, and each time he brings more kegs of cider to welcome lost souls out of the day's heat. I found myself back in that tent quite a few times throughout the week, both for another pint (or three) of cider to wash down the playa dust, as well as for the company of the people I met there.

I will write about Roo's and my self-imposed quest to seek out and play on every trampoline on the playa. On the first day of wandering, after a snack of bacon and waffles which were well worth the wait, we passed a trampoline that looked far too inviting to pass up. After bouncing and flipping for about half an hour -- an already exhausting activity made even more tiring by the dry, pounding heat; it's a good thing I was wearing my kilt for ventilation -- we decreed that we would have to find and bounce on them all. Six days and seven trampolines later, and after seriously pulling a muscle along the left side of my back, I don't think we were anywhere close to our goal, but it was a valiant effort to be sure. They did make for some epic photos against the deep blue desert sky.

I will write about watching the spinners on the Shiva Vista stage and being blown away by both the performers and the stage itself. The large, square playing space sat out in the open playa, a good hike from center camp, but it was always plainly visible. The stage was flanked at each corner by a massive column of black steel, a fire cannon capable of blasting a pillar of flame twenty feet into the sky. Around the audience space stood a ring of ten or so additional fire rigs which threw flame both straight up, as well as inwards towards the stage. As I watched the burners dance, the cannons pumped their excited tongues of fire into the night, popping and swirling and tossing irregular shadows across the hard desert floor. At full blast, I could feel the orange flames wash over me, a bubble of heat in the cool yet boiling night.

And I will write about these things and more, and I will continue to write for days to come, and it will never come close to capturing the experience as a whole. How can I describe the intense dryness, the dust seeping into my skin and mingling with my sweat, staining every hair on my body a chalky gray? I can't, not in that way that will make you touch your fingertips together to take comfort in the oils on your skin.

I will write about these things, and I will feel like I did out there in the desert: for every thing that I see -- for every sculpture that I touch; for every person that I encounter; for every song that I hear; for every star that I see blinking at me from the night sky -- there will exist a hundred other things that I will never see, will never find, will never even hear about second- or third-hand from others. And that will be okay. Because that is part of the experience, too.

Update: Haircut!

And oh, yeah. I got a haircut. No, like a serious haircut:

Road Trip - Highlights

It's been a while since I've posted anything here, so as a place-filler I'll post some highlights of the road trip thus far:

So far, we've spotted licence plates from over half of the states in the union, (including Hawaii!), and we're only in eastern Texas.

Stopped in Nashville, TN to see the Parthenon. Or, at least, a very accurate recreation of the Parthenon. What it's doing in the middle of Tennessee I'll never know, but at least it has towns nearby called Sparta and Carthage to keep it company.

Stopped in Memphis, TN for some amazing dry-rub pork ribs at a little back-alley place called The Rendezvous. Seriously delicious ribs. I felt like I had wandered into the Food Network's show about finding the best food around America.

Following that, we walked down Beale Street and saw live music, a backflip competition, and a crazy guy on a motor scooter. Favorite sight: a sign at the top of the street reading: "First chance for a drink! Next opportunity: 20 feet."

Coming up: The Texarkana post office, which straddles the state line between Texas and Arkansas. I'll be in two states at once! ...And I can send snail mail at the same time!

Cookies

I heard a great metaphor today:

Sex is like making cookies. Sure, cookies are great; but it's also fun to mix the ingredients and eat the cookie dough without ever putting it in the oven.

...As long as you take the proper precautions against salmonella.

Late Nights

Dust, that thick perfume of
pine and fiberboard which clogs
my pores, fills my nostrils and
mixes into a paste with my sweat,
now circulates the room at roughly
one hundred thousand parts per million.

Four A.M. is no time for power tools.

Low Rumbling, Plastic Ivy and Eggo Waffles

They grumble and stomp their feet
demanding word -- a few lines
posted on a painted nail,
parchment flapping in the venting breeze;
a rope dangles from a beam,
looped above a lantern, an old woman,
an elephant and a coffin --
any sign of life.

Will this do?

The hours flash past,
each day melts into the next
with only enough time in between
to unwrap the black from my back
and fall unceremoniously onto cotton sheets
before the sparrows call me out again.

I am lost.
Is it Tuesday already?

The valley fills with purple clouds
and electricity bends like a rainbow
over the horizon,
tapping its toe on either side of the ridge.
Paper lanterns hang precariously in the periphery,
but they do not move. Not one inch.

The heat slips off into the shadows;
even it is getting more sleep than I.

C'est la vie, they say,
and they are absolutely right.
Who am I to raise my voice? My cries
echo into a nest of ants
scurrying here and there with their wares;
I speculate on the odds of one
hitting his head on a chandelier.
The space is getting smaller.

Did we change the world in under an hour?
The champagne still buzzes around my head,
a pesky fly I cannot wave away.
Or maybe it's the sugar. Who can tell?

I never got my sandwich.
It's a comment on something, I'm sure.

Still,
he waits patiently for her to call.
After all, chocolate kisses are the best.

In the meantime,
the twenty-five cent alarm clock beckons.
Here's hoping it still works.

---

Post script:

Alas. It does not.
It spins quietly, but emits only static.
I suppose one gets what one pays for.

Things I Learned At Work Today

1. Despite my predictions, it is, in fact, possible to work a 14-hour day, stay up late drinking, get 4 hours sleep, and then wake up at 8am to repeat the process.

2. It is harder to focus stage lights when you are dangling upside-down from an I-beam harnessed into the high steel than you would think.

3. Meta-Algebra:
a. 2x4 + 2x4 + 2x4 + 2x4 = Platform framing.
b. Holding 2x4 in place + Nail gun = Helpful and efficient.
c. Nail gun + My thumb = Lots of blood + Light-headedness.
d. My thumb + Hospital staff + Tetanus shot = Crabby nurse.
e. Tetanus shot + No stitches + No bone contact + Workman's Comp = VERY, VERY LUCKY.

4. People are cynical and sarcastic when they think you injured yourself. People are much nicer when they learn that someone else did it to you.


------- EDIT: -------

5. When people who have just met you accidentally shoot you through the thumb with a nail gun and watch you bleed all over the shop floor, they will make you wonderful trophies, (even if they don't yet know your last name).

PSF

A brief note:

For those that didn't know, I will be leaving in just under 6 hours to begin my summer internship at the Pennsylvania Shakespeare Festival at DeSales University.

For the next twelve (12) weeks, I will undertake all the duties of the "swing intern," which, as I understand, means I will be the production manager's bitch for the summer. Which is fine by me -- I haven't had an honest day's work in a long time, and this will be a great way for me to get my foot in the door and make some connections within the theater world. Hooray.

This also means I will be living at DeSales U until Aug. 6. In a dorm room. Possibly with a roommate. If I have one, my challenge for myself will be to see how much like Freshman year at VC I can make this experience. Mainly, I will try to get the roommate to move out after six weeks. If I find him doing lines of coke off my desk, I'll know I'm almost there.

Don't worry. I'll have my computer and phone, so I won't be entirely dead to the world. But I will be living on theater time -- very much like my life at VC, except I won't have the periodic nap-times throughout the day that were my classes.

Anyway. It starts.

At the mercy of public transportation

He sits on the bed,
the screen glowing softly beside
him, while sounds of jazzed-up
Broadway hits are transmitted
from satellite to
satellite to
him
as he waits for a
customer service agent.

He dozes; the clock
ticks quietly in the next room.

After a dream --
a mutant cat eating a street
full of people? --
a voice interrupts the music.

He explains the problem,
patiently.
It's been two hours, he says.
She tells him there
has been a glitch in the system,
the ones and zeros
didn't add up,
we're sorry.

We can request a ticket
to be waiting for you at the desk,
she says. He can hear her smiling,
falsely.
That would be great, he says.
It will take some time, she says,
We'll call you with the confirmation number.

Confirmation number;
A glitch in the system;
Customer service agent.

The clock
ticks quietly in the next room,
the screen glowing quietly
beside him.

The three dollar convenience fee
is mocking him;

he sighs.

I Done Did It Good

Today I did a little freelance electrician work for a small theater in the next town over. Woke up at 6.30am, (holy crap was I not ready for that), so I could be on the train by 7.30 and at the theater by 8. My mom greeted me at the bottom of the stairs with, "Oh, wow, I forgot you were getting up this early. I'm impressed you're awake! Too bad I'm going to school, I could have given you a ride." (Thanks, mom).

I got to the theater a bit early, and sat in the amazing morning air until Lauren, the production manager, unlocked the doors and let me in. At first I was annoyed that the first brilliant spring day of the year would be spent in a dark, dusty theater, but then I realized that on any other day I wouldn't even be awake until 11, and I should be grateful to see this so-called "morning" at all.

It was the kind of invigorating theater work I haven't done in so long: I deciphered an incoherent plot; I climbed ladders while carrying too much heavy equipment; I hung, struck and rehung lights; I ran circuits; I ate a donut; I joked about how annoying actors can be. We ended up finishing everything in only 4 hours. When I left, I had cuts and scrapes, not to mention a layer of generic filth, all over my hands and arms. Man, did it feel good.

It seems stupid, however, to have to fill out a bunch of tax forms so they can pay me $52... Minus taxes.

Damn you, IRS. Damn you.

Colbert In Philly

Well, shit. I think I might be the winner.

During tonight's airing of The Colbert Report, he announced that they were coming to Philly in April to cover the primary elections, and pronounced that "tickets [were] available starting now on ColbertNation.com."

I thought to myself: "That's awesome! I should go see if I can get tickets as soon as this show is over!"

And then I thought: "Wait. Who the hell do I think I'm kidding? I gotta get them NOW."

So I ran. I sprinted upstairs, jumped on the computer. ColbertNation.com. Loading... (Thoughts of site crashes leaped to mind, but I kept my cool). I clicked the link, entered my info, requested four tickets, hit submit... Error. Requested tickets unavailable.

Shit.

Based on what, I thought? Did Monday sell out already? Did I request too many tickets? So I tried again. Entered my info, picked Wednesday, (who ever picks Wednesday?), lowered the ticket request to two, hit submit...

"Tickets reserved." WINNER!!!

Moral of the story: I will be in the audience for the taping of the Colbert Report on Wednesday, April 16. I will be going with my friend Nate Kleinman, (he runs the International Aurora blog that I have a link to on my sidebar), who has spent countless hours getting involved in the Obama campaign, even going so far as to get on the ballot in my county as a potential delegate with a real chance of going to Denver for the Democratic convention. So if anyone deserves to see Stephen Colbert make ruthless fun of the Democratic party, it's him.

Needless to say, I'm psyched. Beyond psyched.

Oh, man. Unemployment was worth it for this.

St. Patty's Day!

Happy Saint Patrick's day to you all! May your cup (read: pint glass) runeth o'er, and your day be full of th' luck o' the Irish. It was a beautiful day in Philly, though I spent most of it in a car driving to a piano repair company because the keyboard we're using in Sweeney Todd died yesterday. And I have another 3 hr. rehearsal tonight. But hopefully I'll be able to finish my night in my most favorite of dives, Buckets Tavern, which has been fully decorated since Friday. Here's hoping they went all out and got some Magners Irish cider for the evening; if not, it'll have to be a traditional Irish whiskey night!

I was thinking we bloggers should track down some multimedia for this festive occasion. Music, videos, music videos, etc. For example, here's a little video from the Official Saint Patrick's Festival of Ireland website:

Ah, that brings me back. Who remembers St. Patty's Day, 2006? I hope I still have my Irish flag/cape around here somewhere... And Ricky, you'd better still have that cap! Anyway, in the spirit of the day, I'll post a bunch my pictures from Ireland 2006 on Flickr, (don't worry, nothing too incriminating).

Here's one more video, for the road:



Éirinn go Brágh!