Wednesday, May 22, 2002

More on Trains and Jakob Dylan

Yesterday's entry hit a nerve with some people, a funny nerve. I have received no less than five email and one phone call on the subject.

Taunia writes:

"Oh my head (pun intended!)

I just read your journal entry and I was cracking up out loud in my office. I have just forwarded the link to my friend M who heard me laughing.

I fortunately never had any penis incidents whilst on the train, but I SO feel your pain. The worst that ever happened to me was being on the green line and having a man touch my hair (it was really long and curly at the time). At first I didn't realize he was doing it - then I realized he was PETTING it.

Yikes. Anyhow - your story takes the cake for best train story EVER."

EVER, mind you. EVER!

hee hee.

Anyway, today's entry has nothing to do with wankers and trains. There was something I had in mind to write about today but the sleep of last night and a nice hot shower combined to wash it from my body, so I will have to invent something else. I could keep on the theme of travel and write about the bus ride Doug and I took from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania to Ashland, Oregon in 1988. But there's so much to tell there that I'll save it for another day.

Instead I'll summarize yesterday's activities and today's plans. Then perhaps tonight I'll remember what I wanted to write about in the first place.

Yesterday I made a trip to the nursery (for plants, not chillen) and got morning glories and snap dragons and more pansies for the yard. My first swipe at garden plants wasn't nearly a big enough swipe and I found myself lacking in many places. The seeds I've sown in the yard didn't yield a sprout at all, so I bought plants.

I am never successful with seed planting, even if I start them in little containers and nurse them up. The closest success is this year I've got about a dozen sunflowers started in a little tray, and I'll wait another week or so and then move them into their homes to grow. So Geoff and I planted our flowers in the yard, and let me tell you boy plus dirt plus shovel equals FUN! This kid digs diggin'.

For dinner last night it was big assed lasagna, with sausages and tomato and basil sauce. I pushed one of the jars off the counter by accident and it did a 180 degree flip in mid air and landed opening down straight on the floor. That in and of itself wasn't bad. Cleaning up sauce I can live with doing that. When it hit the ground, the bottom of the jar, which was now apexed, shot straight off the jar. It was quite surreal. So there was broken glass all over, and I couldn't let the dog clean it up, which was my initial thought as I watched the jar fall off the counter. Sauce laced with bits of nasty glass would surely ruin his insides.

He was sorely dejected. Poor beast. The one time I drop something substantial enough to satisfy his never ending hunger, and I clean the whole thing up. There was no explaining to him. He wouldn't hear it and sulked away.

I then went to the college to work with the professor on her website. I was there until 7:30.

All told, it was a long, long day.

Today... Just showered, will finish garden plantings, and sort the baby food and diaper stuff that we collected at church to donate to the local pregancy care center and women's shelter. Then Geoff and I are going to his school to pick up all the artwork they had stored for a show, which I forgot to attend, and pay my balance and deposit for next fall. And today is chapel day, so we'll stick around for chape. Then we are having lunch with two old old friends from college down in Marblehead. Hopefully Geoff will be a good boy. I'll let him bring his pokemon.

My tenant has been playing this crappy Nikka Costa shit every damn day for the last week. Today she's played the same song 10 times. All you can hear is the bass line. I know it doesn't translate to print, but it goes:

"Bum Bum, BLA BLA BLAT. Bum Bum, BLA BLA BLAT. Badoom boom boom boom, bum bum ba da ba da, bum bum ba da ba da, bum bum ba da ba da, ba'da da da da. Bum Bum, BLA BLA BLAT. Bum Bum, BLA BLA BLAT...." and I can hear Nikka's voice ever so slightly shriekingly shrilling whining over the stupidest bass line in history. Gah. Talentless slob. She believes she's a diva. I bet VH1 will categorize her in a year or so with such other alleged Divas as Mariah and Celine. Meh! They all SUCK! She's the poster child for why "Clear Channel Communications" is evil... buying all the radio stations in the nation and marketing only bands that will agree to their terms. She's gotta have their feedback strapped on somewhere. She's talentless, annoying, shrieky and downright horrid. Enough that I'd vomit if I was forced to see her perform.

Watch her be the opening act next time I go see barenaked ladies. Ugh.

We on the other hand have been listening to The Wallflowers a lot lately. We've got their second album "Breach" and it's really good. Aside from the two hits they had off it, "Sleepwalker" and "Letters from the Wasteland," there are a few songs on that album that I just adore. "Some Flowers Just Bloom Dead," is an amazing song, and "I've Been Delivered" has these gems in the lyrics:

"I could break free from the wood of a coffin if I need, but nothin's hard as getting free from places I've already been ... I have drawn blood from the neckline when vampires were in fashion.
You know I'd even learn to cut my throat
If I thought I could fit in 'Cause I, I once heard that you gotta learn how to blend in to this mess
Where nothin's hard
nothin's precious and
nothin's smooth or flawless...
And I just wave back like a little boy up on a pony in a show
'cause I can't fix something this complex
any more than I can build a rose"

He may not be his dad, but Jakob Dylan has an amazing eye for imagery and storytelling. I'd love to see them live. A couple summers ago they toured with Counting Crows and we didn't go. I'm still kicking myself.

Anyway. We have got to go. Geoff raided the fridge and ate tonight's dessert. Hurrah.

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