I'm not sure I understand concert promotions and marketing anymore. The local radio station I listen to most but not all of the time, WXRV, 92.5 the River, made no mention of the fact that Counting Crows will be performing THIS Friday night at the Paul Tsongas Arena (ghetto website, check out the events schedule... formatting -- horrid. Worst Site Ever).

No mention of said event, even though they play them ALL the blasted time. I happened to be scanning the dial while on the way back from Waltham where Geoff saw his eye doctor, and heard a DJ on another station casually mention the event after playing a Counting Crows song.

Now, why is this the first I've heard of it?

Clear Channel Entertainment is sponsoring the Counting Crows tour, which might have something to do with it. They have this stranglehold on radio, music distribution and concert promotions in the country as of late. And I don't listen to any of the four Clear Channel Radio Stations in the Boston area, so if it was advertised over there, I would of course not hear it at all.

The station I heard the mention on was WBOS, which is 2 clicks up the dial from WXRV, and I rarely ever stop there because they play even MORE Don Henley and Bonnie Raitt than WXRV (hard to imagine).

I went to the Tsongas Arena website, tickets are still available, but they are going for thirty bucks a pop.

Screw that.

I thought it would make a nice birthday present for me to go with Jessie and Doug to see them, but feh. Not for 30 bucks a seat. And when it comes down to it, not for a Clear Channel event. Sorry Adam Duritz, you've sold out to the man.

The aboved linked Salon.com articles have got to be some of the more interesting coverage on Clear Channel I've seen. "Why Does Radio Suck?" is the question they ask -- and there's your answer. Venues are owned by Clear Channel, radio stations are owned OR have MAJOR payola accounts with Clear Channel.

I know a lot of the bands I like are part of this scheme... and it breaks my heart. It also makes me sick, because there are talentless slobs who get in on a good contract and then get marketed, shoved, and triple branded into my face everywhere I go.

---

Today's MF class was fabulous. A few technical glitches, but all told it went well. My buddy from the media department came and hooked up a VCR to one of the PCs and we taped the class. Only one penis in attendance! And we got it on video! Aren't we just the lucky ones!

Cu-SeeMe is introducing private rooms, with advanced features like CuCreeps, where you can ban someone from the room for ever and ever. How sweet it is. I love knowing that this will soon be available, because then I will not have to technically facilitate the classes, and if I get a full time job sometime soon I won't have to worry about MF not being able to run the class, with penii flying through the virtual room. I don't know if our pushing them and whining and complaining all the time has anything to do with their moving in this direction, but it is nice to see it happening. The tech guy I spoke with in May of last year said they were thinking about doing this, but that it wouldn't be free... well. Looks like it is free. And the class is working so well that this is an all new and very exciting way to do education. I'm sure they'll charge us for it eventually, but seriously -- perhaps 20 bucks a kid per class per semester or something. I can see the kids paying that. They pay a lot more for textbooks. This would be cheap in comparison.

---

Today I got to stop in and see the guys, only Brian and Ben were there. Dan was actually out working someplace. Brian ragged on me for not going up after class last week. I told him to stuff it. Glad to have such great friends.

And he also told me about the latest editions of Rolling Stone Magazine -- with the Simpsons Covers. Hot Damn. Go to the website and check them out. I'm not sure how long they'll be up there, so I'm going to keep each picture here locally. Too funny. Personally, I think they should have done a version of the middle of Joshua Tree, the way I did last year with my family's faces -- but they did make fun of U2 pretty good (see the Homer and U2 at Moe's picture for proof. Ass cracks are really funny). The Fleetwood Mac "Rumors" cover is pretty darn classy. Nice work.

---

I've gotten some interesting feedback on the built in entertainment center from friends. Usually in the form of phone calls, but a couple good emails.

"Dude, your TV is too small and pimpy, get a bigger one!"

That's the general consensus. Now, Doug is thinking about our need for a TV which will fill the opening better. That could end up being our Christmas present to ourselves.

See what happens when you do home improvement? What you had was passable. Now you have something nicer, and you gotta improve the stuff that goes with it. Pretty soon, we'll need a new house. Oh well. Anyway. Go check out the Rolling Stone Simpsons stuff. It's a riot.

Local Radio

We have a local radio station, 92.5 the River, based out of the next city over. They've become kind of a big Boston area station. And I've been listening incessantly for the last week to the morning program to win admission to a brunch with The Wallflowers.

Normally, the River is a good station. They were the first station to play Barenaked Ladies in the Boston area on a regular basis, and even had their studio taken over one afternoon by Ed and Steve in what was probably the funniest on-air entertainment I've ever heard. They also have some decent local folk musicians like Peter Mulvey and Ellis Paul in their common rotation when new albums come out. I've submitted a lunchtime "select a set" that I hope they play someday. A couple songs in there are specific to my sister, and it would be great to hear them on the radio because no one plays them.

But, sometimes it is a grown up easy rock listening station. They keep playing a lot of Sheryl Crow, and you know I dislike her. I went to their website to get some details on this Wallflowers thing (by the way, the last opportunity to win admission to the brunch just went past, and I didn't get through, of course. All morning I got through but was like the second or third caller when they wanted the seventh or tenth).

On their website, they have a java script box showing what song is currently playing, and of course, they were playing Sheryl Crow's "Steve McQueen" song because they play it like every frigging hour. The funny thing was... this is how it appears on the website:

You can see that the form box cuts off at a certain point. I highlighted the funny part. Now, whenever I hear that song I'm going to sing "Like Steve McQueer..." in my head. Bwa. ha ha ha. By the way, I in no way shape or form dislike gay people or call them queers, unless they tell me they like being called queer. I actually love the word "queer." It has such a great sound when you say it... and I'm sorry that it is a slander against a lot of people. But I'll stop. I just thought it was funny to see the n at the end of McQueen get cut off like that.

Another thing about this particular radio station that annoys me is they are pushing this horrid remake, and boy howdy do I mean HORRID, remake of Aerosmith's "Dream On," by some chick called Fisher. It makes my skin crawl. She's headlining their CD release party at the House of Blues in Cambridge in mid November, and I'm thinking of leaving the country because she'll be too close to my house and I may spontaneously combust. Go to the website and read the bio information... I laughed. I'm sure she is a nice person. But honestly. I never want to hear another song from them because of this particular horrid remake. She sounds like a wet cat singing this song, not that Stephen Tyler doesn't, be she does even more so. I'm not a huge Aerosmith fan, but honestly -- there are some things you just don't mess with. And Dream On is one of them. This particular remake sounds like something they would do on American Idol. Poorly. I'm forever adverse to this band. No one can convince me otherwise. All their other songs could be , masterpieces, orgasmic epiphanies of musical genius, but I will never hear that. I've been sullied. Meh!

By the way, their website is the single most boring musician website I've ever seen.

How's that for me being opinionated on something. I'm sure I'll get "Why do you hate Fisher so much, they're awesome" emails the way I get "Why do you hate Derek Jeter so much, he rules!" emails. But that's alright. The beauty of the internet is I can say what I want about what I think and bite me if you disagree.

I also hate Chris Isaac, but that's an entry for another day.

---

I'm chaperoning a trip for Geoff's class next Wednesday. Huzzah. What am I thinking. Yesterday the pancake breakfast resulted in all the children at my table telling me that they still want me to come work there. These are the same kids who gave me career advice back in January, to either work in a barn or come to the school and be a mommy teacher. I appreciated their love for me, but told them I didn't think it was a good idea if I were ever a teacher, because I'm too much fun and kids don't take me at all seriously. I then put carrot eyebrows on my face.

---

I think the verdict is in -- I believe my baby sister is planning to move back to NY. She's been giving it a go in Florida, but it just isn't working out for her. She can't find a good job, which pays well. She can't find a job where she isn't miserable. She feels that she's imposing on her friends who have been putting her up. The homesickness is debilitating for her, and I know how she feels. When Doug and I moved to Atlanta, I felt exactly the same way. I feel horrible for her but totally understand.

She talked to her former boss, and asked if there was any way she could come back to the company where she was working. Her boss told her that it looks good but she has to talk to the head cheese. While it isn't the greatest place in the universe to work, she was good at what she did and had friends there. She isn't making any friends in Florida... she's finding that people say things like "I've lived here 20 years and haven't met anyone to be friends with..." or that people are just plain assholes. It sounds to me like she's living in New Jersey with Palm Trees.

The bummer thing is she's heading back to NY and she should be out on her own forging ahead and doing the grown up thing. But the great thing is if she goes back, we can do more Gayle photoshop stuff. Mwa ha ha ha.

If anyone wants to go down there and drive back to NY with her, email me and let me know. I'm broke, and going off unemployment due to the fact it runs out on my ass in 3 weeks, so I don't have the cash to take off down there, drive back to NY, and then fly back from NY to Manchester, NH. I don't want her driving back solo, but that may just have to happen...

---

Oh, and finally -- Dan and Honey did have their baby a few weeks back. I forgot to mention it.

His name is Ben, not sure if he's actually named for our buddy Ben there, but it sounds it to me. He's a cute baby. I've not gone to see them yet, but I will do it next week when I go down for Professor MF's class, barring any unforeseen circumstances. He's saying "ooooh! My dad putts like a girl!" here.

One of Chad and Remi's boys came home from the hospital. Jacob is doing great... Jadon's still not ready to come home. Keep them in your prayers. I still can't believe I know someone with twins. It seems surreal. No one I know has them. Well. Now there's an exception.

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.

Food Drive, band concert

The weather report last night indicated that between now and Saturday Thursday is the only day anticipated to be sunny in any way. Well, the sun will make its attempt to burn through the spring showers on Wednesday for sure, maybe Tuesday... but for the foreseen future by the weather prognosticators, it'll be a stormy Monday and rest of the week.

The rain started yesterday afternoon, monkeywrenching any wistful thoughts I'd had for a nice hike for Mother's Day. We sat around the house and Geoff was noisy. Doug made lunch. I made dinner. We all went to bed.

It was kind of a downer.

The rest of the weekend before it was great though. Aaron and Michelle's presence always improves the fun ratio. The can drive went great. It was a Godsend having Aaron there though, he made it his personal mission to out carry all the trash talkin' braggarts in the line saying that last year they carried 100 pounds and 110 pounds.

Aaron carried 104 pounds on his first heft. Subsequent trips to the trucks brought back 134 pounds.

Some of the trash talkin' braggarts in the line were getting pissed.

"Well, it's his FIRST year doin' this. I've been doin' it for seven!"

Like it matters whether or not its your first or fiftieth. Aaron rocked the party. When he'd get to the weigh table, the postal service dude would weigh his stuff and then yell, "YOU DA MAN!!!" It had me in stitches.

We didn't get nearly as much food as in years past, because only two people from our own congregation showed up to help. It's that way with our church. People don't get into things, and that is okay... I'd rather have people who show up willingly than people who groaningly feel obligated to help.

Next week after church is when they will get their opportunity to help when they go down to sort all the food out onto the tables.

I worked with the professor at the college on Saturday night for about 2 hours. It went really well. I always moan about having to go down there and work with her but I always have a great time... I should just learn not to moan about it and just go with a willing heart.

She has 1000 in grant money that she is giving me and has to use it by the end of May. I'm pretty psyched. I need to figure out how to do the whole paying taxes thing. I think I'm supposed to pay quarterly taxes on the stuff I'm making, but it really isn't that much. I don't know who to even talk to where it isn't going to cost me a lot of money. Sigh.

I'm clueless.

Well, I'm going to sign off. Geoff has been pretty much an angel for the last several days. He was the best kid ever at the can drive. Lucky for us our table was right in front of the Kindergarten Sunday school classroom. That kept him busy for 6 hours. And yesterday he was cooped up all day.

He allowed me to rest and snooze all morning, without trying to mix chocolate milk or writing on the walls. I got out of bed when the first of my three UPS deliveries showed up.

I may just let him go out to play today in the pouring rain. It doesn't seem to bother him, and he has a great imagination. I told him we'd bake cookies because he's been so good. And I have to swing by the church to pick up the box of donations for the local women's care center. So we have errands to do. I also have pictures to post, but I think that Jessica accidentally took my camera to school. This morning she was wearing the jacket I wore yesterday. My camera was in the front pocket. I'll crap my literal and metaphorical pants if she loses it. I have to go check the dining table to see if she was conscientious enough to remove it from the pocket.

2:24pm - addendum

Jessica did indeed have the sense that God gave geese and left my camera home. I found it in the kitchen after I posted this entry. God love her. Sometimes she is without a clue, other times, she's on top of it and then some.

Here are some recent pictures. Unfortunately, I didn't have the camera during the can drive. Don't know what I was thinking, but... here are some other pictures nonetheless.

	Last Wednesday night I'd mentioned that Jessie had a beginner band concert. I didn't get to mention my thoughts on it yet. Suffice to say, she's a cutie with her dad's saxophone. She wanted to take violin, but I told her she could take flute or sax, because we already owned the instruments. She's the only girl taking sax. She does a good job... hopefully someday she'll be as good as her daddy was!
After Church on Sunday I went down to assess the basement and Jess and M. came with me. M. is the one who got bit by Missy back last year... she and Jessie are still really good friends. And her dad and mom are people I love dearly and fully appreciate for being in our lives. Here, the pals show off with boxes of goods. All the tables down there are covered with boxes of food right now. Before, just the blue shelves in the way back. We've got a lot of work ahead of us to organize!
Michelle found some rather bizarre items in the food sort at the can drive. Here she models a can of Sprats, a product of Estonia. She also found duck pate, and some other wacky shit. We laughed and laughed. I've renamed her "Mischprat." We laughed and laughed...
We actually had to look up online what sprats are. It was a mystery to the four of us. Are they like sardines? Smelts? What? ... Notice that they are imported from Estonia by a company in Ft. Lauderdale. Linda, if you're interested, I'll mail you their address and you can maybe get a good sprat related career going there!
After church got out, we noticed a parade going up the street of First Communioners on their way to the Catholic church's hall, which is up around the corner from our church. The kids had to walk 2 blocks in their dresses and suits up through the neighborhood. I'm sure some felt like tools. Some of the boys were wearing sneakers, which cracked me up... but the girls looked lovely in their dresses. We waved at them... I stood with Jessie and M. and watched them walk by. We had a long talk about differences in faith between the Catholic church and the Episcopal/Protestant Churches... how at age 7 in the Catholic church sees your first communion, but most protestant churches want you to be in 7th grade or so before making the committment, because you should be making an adult choice... It was a good discussion. The girls were interested in learning, because both wondered why they didn't get to do this. M. said her cousin gets to do this in two weeks... most of her family is Catholic, but her parents started attending our church because it was across the street from their house. Jessica said she is relieved that we are not catholic. She said she'd hate to have to wear a dress like that. I thought it was really sweet to have First Communion Sunday on Mother's day. And this was kind of nice to see. Children so sweet, innocent and refreshing, in light of all that the Boston Media puts forth on the Catholic church right now. There's a lot of bad about it, but here you've got some sweetness. And I hope they continue to grow in fellowship and faith, and don't do what most of my catholic friends did when they were little -- quit going next Sunday.
Here's a picture I took in M.'s parents' yard. We dropped in to wish her mom a happy mother's day. They had spent the whole weekend prepping the yard for the mother's day festivities which are held annually at their home. The yard looks spectacular. I thought this was a pretty sight. She's a killer gardener, and makes my leaves droop with envy. I want to go through later in the summer and take more pictures of her yard for her. And for me. She gave me the bleeding hearts that I took a picture of a few days ago and used in the top left corner. She gives me cast offs from her garden sometimes. The bleeding hearts are the only things that seem to be doing well. She's awesome. Alright. That's my little picture show. Addendum fini!

Walk On, Walk On...

And if the darkness is to keep us apart
And if the daylight feels like it's a long way off
And if your glass heart should crack
And for a second you turn back Oh no, be strong
Oh, Oh Walk on, Walk on
What you got, they can't steal it
No, they can't even feel it
Walk on, Walk on
Stay safe tonight
...
And I know it aches
How your heart, it breaks
You can only take so much
Walk on
Walk on

Thanks, Bono

He had in his possession every single U2 CD, single CD release, every EP, he has them all. They are in my living room. He wrote in his journal that their music gave him such joy. Throughout our friendship, they were integral, a cornerstone. We saw them together.

I'm keeping them.

---

The funeral went as well as funerals can go. His mom and sister asked us to join them at the funeral home for viewing. No one else was invited.

I can't even begin to talk about my thoughts and feelings upon seeing him there in a casket. It absolutely broke my heart to see his mom standing there running her fingers along his hairline above his ear the way mommies do to their little boys when they talk to them. I cried and cried and shit I'm starting to cry right now.

The tie I picked out looked great with the shirt that I brought. I thought they'd clash. But they looked fine. I was relieved. I forgot to bring the guitar to the graveside. I kicked myself for that -- I was so busy trying to get the program that I'd made printed that I braincramped and didn't realize until we'd gotten all the way to Beverly. By then, there was no time to turn around and go back. Mom and sis were so kind to ask us to come be with before hand. He didn't want a big funeral with public viewing. This would have broken so many hearts. It would have been devistating for people to see.

I'm glad people were spared that.

The funeral was well attended. I had hoped 200 people would come, but about 50 or 60 were there. People from the old gang at college, people from the college where we worked. People from the YMCA. It was a good mix of each of the three big circles that he swam in. The only circle not represented was the heroin circle. There were a few people I knew who would have been deserving to be there -- but his mom is really upset and didn't want to have them there. I can't say as I blame her in any way... I spoke to one of them and told her that they should go after.

I felt bad -- it isn't bad enough that they are shunned by their own family sometime, but a few of them were actually saved by his efforts. And they deserve to mourn too. So I told the woman I talked to that I'd go with her if she wanted.

I kind of feel like we're a bridge between two universes, Doug and I. It makes me so sad.

Meh. I weep. It's hard to really express what I feel.

The "program" came out very nice. The desktop publisher at Staples was super cool and helpful... and impressed with my work. I had to laugh. When he realized what it was he was kind of heartbroken and went out of his way to do it quickly so I could get home and ready.

After all that time I spent looking for the picture from when he lived with Gregg in Wilson hall, I gave up and used the one Naomi had scanned for me. Smitty called me last night and told me "I have this great picture of him playing his guitar in that room he lived in with Gregg..."

No. You're kidding me.

"Is he wearing a black t-shirt?"

"Yeah, I think it's a banana republic shirt."

He took the picture, not me or Gregg, but we each had a copy of it at some point... So Smitty has the original. I had no idea. So he's sending it to me. I know some people who want a copy of that... us chiefly among them.

I was on autopilot when I made the thing, and put the journal entry he had that I put here into the program. It didn't occur to me until AFTER Charles read it out loud that there were people there who didn't know about his drug use.

Oh my God, I'm such a friggin' IDIOT!

And it didn't occur to me that it might hurt his mom to hear, even though his openness with his own salvation and redemption was so clear. What the hell was I thinking! She didn't say anything when she read it. She was stunned I think.

And I'm kicking myself and kicking myself for not thinking. I thought the entry was so perfect and so explanatory. I talked to Gregg about it, and he expressed that while I may feel like I betrayed his mom by putting that in there, perhaps my big error may just do some good? Truth sets people free.

I hope? I pray.

---

We went to the beer works afterwards to do the thing he'd always told me he wanted -- he wanted everyone to get together for a drink, play some pool, and lift a glass in a toast. I lead the toast and looked out over the group, just about everyone who was at the cemetary was at the beer works, and I know how much laughter he gave each of those people. And it made me want to scream that he wasn't there and start freaking out, but I kept my composure.

The beer works opened the pool tables and took the panel off that makes you have to pay for pool, so we could play free. The waitress was hella awesome. The whole staff took us in and treated us well. It was a very nice gathering.

A lot of laughter, and a lot of fun. I talked forever with Bonnie, and we talked about how we always know the other one is "right there" all the time even though we don't get together enough and how that is a huge mistake. In the last 9 years or so, since Jessie was born really, the opportunities to be together thinned out. I had a baby, she was the urban professional rocking out to her boyfriend's bands... I was in bed at 9.

She's got a baby now, and her life is changed. And I have a feeling there will be more time together. I'm glad we didn't lose each other in this period of time -- the way we lost this week. And we have the time to regroup, renew, say the I Love Yous that we know deep in our hearts but don't say outloud often enough. It was good to have that.

All the buddies were there, Brian, Ben and Dan, Michelle, Dave, Tam, Gregg and Karry and Abbadabba, all the kids from the college, Jason, Justin, Ben, Doug, Julian (the piano player), Holly his old girlfriend from College came, it was so good to see her and her baby ... the circle was completed.

I had a blast, and I so know he would have been so happy. I left there with joy in my heart. I think in the end, we did it right by him, did just what he told me he wanted us to do. So I'm not the major cock-up I think I am.

I've talked to and gotten email from a lot of people who have just sat down and are re-evaluating what they've been doing with their lives, similar to what Bon and I talked of after the funeral. I have heard a lot of quietly stunned people say things like "I've let go of everything I once held as important and what's it going to get me if I die suddenly without reconnecting with friends, or apologizing, or having dinner with my mom..." so if anything, this time of reflection and personal repentance has come on some friends.

Me too. I picked up the phone and called some people to say out loud "I love you so much, and am so thankful you are a part of my life."

The best talk was with my buddy Gregg, whom I've felt very disconnected from over the past couple of years even though we spent time together and worked together. I feel like we were going through the motions. That once there was this firey happy friendship and now we're both just too tired to put in the effort. So it was a very awesome talk... and I'm glad to have had it.

So go, pick up the phone. I bet there are a couple people you have kind of lost contact with who you have always wanted to say "you rock my world and I love you" to... aren't there?

Perhaps it is your mom. An old boyfriend or girlfriend and you just have to let them know you're doing well and you valued what you had together and love them still but with that ongoing kind of love, not the I want to jump your bones kind of love. Perhaps it is God that you need to talk to right now, you feel disconnected from the divine, from the sacred. If that connectivity is clear and solid, all your relationships benefit. Whomever it is that you are called to reconnect with -- Go. Now. Do it.

Having no regrets is a beautiful thing.

And once you do that, Walk On.

---

Mom and Sis came to go through all his belongings yesterday afternoon. They left all the clothing and asked if we'd take them to the salvation army.

They left books & CDs and Doug said he was going to take them to second hand stores and whatever money he gets we'll donate to the YMCA on his behalf. His sister cried, because that would have made him so happy -- to know what he had left would go to the kids.

He has a palm pilot and a gameboy advance that he told his sister "I want Jessica to have these," a few days before he died and she had no idea why he'd want to tell her that then. Perhaps he had an idea that he wasn't going to be here long. So she's going to have us down to her place and make us dinner, and give Jessie the things he wanted to give her that she currently has in her posession.

Today is pouring rain. Doug said today that the sky is crying, just like Stevie Ray's song. Gregg said to me on the phone that the first thing that crossed his mind when we lost CAL was the Stevie Ray connection... the fact he took time to clean himself up, and that perhaps while we don't understand why either of them had to die so young, that God figured hey, I'm taking my boys back before they can mess themselves up again. Before they have to go through that again. I love them enough to remove them from their vessels, and leave a legacy behind which will bring a smile to some faces.

"The sky is cryin. Can't you see the tears roll down the street?"

The mess you leave behind...

They say to live life fast and leave a beautiful corpse. Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die. There are also other things you should leave behind. Or not leave behind.

Leave behind a legacy that doesn't leave people angry, shaking their heads in confusion.

Leave behind family and friends who don't have to leave out the details of your life's ending because it is too painful or embarrassing for them, for your sake and the sake of your cherished memory.

Leave behind tears of joy when you go.

I don't care if your corpse is beautiful or not... no one will. Just make sure the circumstances and situation you leave behind don't add extra pain for those who are going to have to contend with it.

Right now I'm sitting in the wake of tears of joy, anger, screams and shouts.

I am sick to my stomach.

I've been fielding calls from people who have heard, people who don't understand. I'm trying to be helpful to his and his mom. I want to do more to help, because I feel as if I was a miserable failure when trying to help him when he was still here. And perhaps it will make me feel just a tad better.

I am kicking myself for not being there at the door to pick him up from rehab with an iron grip and piercing gaze, and a hug that says "I love you and want to see you make it this time, please please please be good..."

I'm mad as hell at him for telling me on the phone day after day in the last month "Yeah, everything is great! I'm out of rehab and doing super!" Because once again, the lies were easy to believe.

I talked to his sister today, she's trying to arrange to get the contents of his car from the place where the Beverly Police put it -- up in Lowell at the dealership where she got it for him.

We am going to help her get his things. I am waiting to hear back from her as to when we can go to get it.

I want it to be today.

I want to be done with these people from that phase of his life. I had as little to do with them as I could. I know them by name, by sight, and trust me when I confess to you that the first thing on my mind when I think of them is how can I inflict as fast and furious an injury upon them as possible.

But that wouldn't change anything.

My best friend is still dead.

All I want out of there is his guitar, and to see if he kept a journal like I told him he should... His sister wants his computer, because it is valuable monetarily and she doesn't want anyone to profit from his death, even if it is for a couple hundred bucks. I can't blame her at all.

I want to make sure that his mom has the guitar in the end, to do with what she wants. To save as that part of her son which through his good times and his bad times was always constant... Whatever sort of memorial we have, I will ask her for the guitar to have it sitting there unplayed and untouched on a guitar stand. Hopefully we can find it. Hopefully it hasn't vanished. It is such an important icon for me about him, that if it's lost I'll cry and cry. It will devastate me to no end. It's all anyone has left.

---

One of the funniest memories I have of him involves that guitar. He had taken my position as the helpdesk coordinator at the college when I became webmaster, and really loved working with the kids. He had a long history of youth oriented work with the YMCA and other camps, and working with kids, even college kids, was so important to him.

Work was sometimes no fun, so he decided with a couple other guys who played instruments that they should jam at lunchtime and have some fun. There was an abandoned piano in an empty part of the new building where we were stationed, so he and the kids wheeled it into the helpdesk area and up the stairs.

At lunch, one kid would play piano, he would jam on his guitar, and all they knew how to play was "Wonderwall" by Oasis.

The director of the department caught wind of the piano one day and marched up into the room. The piano was tucked up against the wall when it wasn't being played. At this particular moment, everyone was working. He was standing in the room talking to one of his employees, a student ready to go out into the field to do the thankless dirty work of fixing yet another broken computer on that campus.

The director was angry and pointed at the piano and said "What is THAT doing in here?"

CAL turned and looked, and as if seeing a big pile of jewels or something you wouldn't expect to see sitting in the shop, he yelled 'Ah!!!!! Where'd THAT come from!" with astonishment.

So much so that everyone in the room, except the director, cracked up. I mean, we were peeing laughing. And he was too.

But the director was furious. "Get that out of here..."

He and the kids didn't have the time to justify that it was there only to bring joy to the hearts of the "sled dogs" during their once a day lunch break. It was good while it lasted, but just one of many examples of what he had to deal with, and how his vision of work was different from that of the boss.

Guess who the kids respected more.

Guess who they loved more.

Guess who people miss when he's gone. Yup.

I just got off of the phone with one of the guys who worked for him, and he broke down in tears while we were talking. That kid is working at a major university in the Boston area doing help desk work. He learned so much from him. So much more than any liberal arts college or history professor or math teacher could ever teach him.

I hung up the phone and cried and cried. Oh my God. I can't believe he's dead. I am so sad. I am so sorry for this... I am so going to miss him.

And the thing that is pissing me off more than anything is the loss of potential. The what could have been. What should have been. There are so many people who SHOULD have for years to come enjoyed that kind of mentoring. That kind of friendship. This is so fucking unfair.

He changed lives while being someone's boss. He wasn't just someone's supervisor, the guy you go to and say "uh, whattaya want me to do now, boss?"

He was awesome and wonderful and caring. People wanted to know him. People wanted to work with him. He was so much better than people ever gave him credit for. He changed and helped so many people.

The thing I loved about him was he was all about business when it was time to be all about business. He took work seriously. He taught the kids. Worked beside them instead of supervising over them. He was above them but among them, in the trenches, not in meetings deciding how to incorrectly do things around campus.

But when it was time to just kick back, even a little, he wanted the opportunity to give people joy. And again, he was with them. Enjoying as much as he could with them.

The piano was just one example of how he wanted to make life at the college a more enjoyable place for the guys who busted their asses day in and day out for thankless end users and administrators and faculty who played political head games with one another and the department at the students' expense.

He wanted people to have a nice time. He always recognized that. And no one is having a nice time right now.

So, if your mission in life is to make sure people have a nice time, when you die, do me a big favor, wouldya? Make the circumstances less painful. Make it so they'll cry remembering how wonderful and super you were, recalling funny crap, instead of lamenting what could have been.

Make the loss be just that -- a loss of you, not a loss of you and what could have been in your future.

Don't leave your friends and family saying that it's a crying shame.

---

By the way, in his drug use, I wanted to make it clear that his heroin use was not via injection.

So if you knew him, don't picture him sitting in a room melting heroin on a spoon and tying off his arm to shoot up. He sniffed it. It's a lot more expensive that way. Always, always the more difficult path for him.

He hated needles. And when he got into this I shook my head and told him that he's the only one in the whole big circle of friends he was making who was a sissy. I didn't want to challenge him to shoot up, I just wanted him to realize he was such a nancy and that perhaps this scene was not for him.

He laughed, and he shrugged and admitted it. He was a nancy when it came to pain. I just shook my head and told him that he had to stop doing this to himself. He stopped laughing, bit back tears, and nodded. "Yeah. I will."

...the space between

The company I work for has a luxury box at Foxboro Stadium. They raffled off tickets to people in the corporate officewho would want to go to certain shows this year, and I won tickets to see Dave Matthews Band. I love older Dave Matthews stuff, not fond of the new album... but hey. Luxury box. Free beer. Comfortable and safe surroundings for my daughter to go see her first concert, and a band she actually likes. I figured this would be an ass kicking 9th birthday present for my best girl... so I decided to take her instead of my husband (who, by the way, dislikes DMB greatly...).

The kids and I spent the afternoon at a pond, and I got a killer sunburn. I always remember to put sunscreen on them and not on myself. It was monkey hot that day, and I really wanted for us to get out and have fun swimming and sunning. My daughter and I left for Foxboro at 4:30. When I was much younger, the need to get there before noon to tailgate, eat, drink and puke in the parking lot was a lot stronger.... I felt that if we got there before the opening artist, Macy Gray, was finished, and before DMB started playing, that'd be good timing.

We got to the Foxboro area at about 6pm. Parked in a motel parking lot for $20 and walked the mile to the stadium. Again, it was super monkey hot, there were tons of drunk college students... and my 9 year old daughter right there among them. She seemed completely oblivious to their behavior, which made me feel good. She had the binoculars in hand, and was enjoying listening to the songs that the tailgaters were blasting from their cars. The parking lot area brought back a lot of memories for me, being a drunk stupid college student once upon a time... I honestly don't remember ever being THAT drunk and stupid though.

She asked for a slushie (turned her mouth horrid blue) and we got to the stadium, the luxury box, the beer, the pizza and the whole 9 yards before Macy sang her "signature song" which I can't stand. We had binoculars, a view of all God's creation, and it was refreshingly cool up in the box with the window wide open, and the cold beer and good friends from my office to hang out with.

Dave and the boys took the stage at about 8:20, earlier than I expected. With luxury box tickets you also get tickets in the stands, our tickets were right on the 50 yard line (had it been a football game) in the very low section of the first tier above the floor. After DMB took the stage, they were about 3 songs into their performance, I suggested we go down to our seats to see what the view was like there.

We fought the crowd, made it to our seats. Someone was in them, of course, so I made no big deal of it and we just stood beside the drunk college students who were in our seats. The row of drunk college students in front of us had a guy in the midst of them who looked like he was going to hurl. He'd stand up straight, sing along, wave his arms, yell "Wooooooo hooooo!" and then he'd bend over at the waist, fix his hands upon his knees and breathe heavily for a little while, hunched over forward in vomit-position. I kept a good eye on him... I didn't want him to do a lightning fast 180 degree turn and slather my daughter with spew.

Jessica noticed the pot smell, and I asked her if she was bothered by it. She said the smoke itself, not the smell was bothering her. I asked her if she wanted to go back yet, and she said she wanted to stay there a little while longer. I got the impression that she was kind of nervous, but it was exciting and weird at the same time. The band went into "Sattelite" and had a woman singing in some one of the many African languages (Dave's big into his Africa roots), and it was very pretty. Jessica was fascinated by the stage backdrops, they looked like tree trunks, made of taut canvas, painted in a way that made them also look sort of like snake skin. She eventually started applauding and "Wooo hoooo"-ing along with the crowd, and was getting into it.

Aside from the fabulous music, the crowd watching was the best part. I watched this tall, black security dude behind our row of seats keep a tube-topped, drunken blonde-floozy from scamming her drunken ass down into our section. He was a riot, not putting up with her drunk ass shit as she drunkenly begged him to let her go "back to her seat" and she didn't have her ticket because she "dropped it" somewhere when she went to the ladies room... and dropped it because there are tiny tiny pockets on her little tiny white shorts and no pockets on her tube-topped entombed boobies. Something happened behind her, and he turned his attention to the frackas, and she tried her drunken damndest to squeeze past him with all the determination and strength youth could muster. He thwarted her attempts with a "What DO you think you're doing?" Then she started cursing at him, yelling at him... "That kinda talk isn't helping your cause, young lady," was his retort. She slammed her foot down and screamed through her teeth, like a 7 year old.

It struck me right there and then that she was more childish than my own 9 year old.

I laughed.

My daughter eventually wanted to head back up to the booth. Even at 5' 1" she felt too short to see anything well. So after another two songs we pressed our way back to the luxury box entrance, and went back upstairs.

The stadium broadcasted the show on the jumbo-trons (four of them) and closed circuit tv in the boxes. We were the only people up in the booth for a while, then other people started filtering back in. One of my friends from another department sat with my daughter and shared binoculars. He asked her how old she was, she answered; he smiled and said "do you know how lucky you are?" She replied, "I have an idea."

We left before the encores, which bummed me out but we needed to get out of the Foxboro area before the crowds tried pouring out. The drunk and ridiculous crowds. Plus, Jessie was showing her tired side, and would have minded a long trek back to the car. We got a ride from one of my co-workers, who dropped us off right by our car, and we were home in an hour.

Boyd... kicked ass.

Dave and the boys played a lot of stuff off the new album, and I wasn't overtly impressed with the playlist. They did play an unbelievable rendition of "Bartender," which I've only ever heard played acoustic by Mr. Matthews himself (an mp3 of Austin City Limits lives in my "soundtrack of my life" mp3 folder), and a rousing rendition of "Lie in our Graves" where Boyd Tinsley performed a 15 minute "fiddle" solo that had the crowd writhing with joy... I never would have imagined that a "fiddle" solo would get 60,000 people that frenzied up. It was so amazing.

I think if Mr. McCune, my elementary school music teacher, had told me there was something more to violin playing than classical music I might have stayed with it. I mean, if I knew you could bend notes, play frenetically, rip the bow across the strings like Boyd does, man... I think I would have enjoyed myself more at it.

I really wanted my daughter to see a live concert. And this was a great one to go see. (I just wish they'd done "#41/Say Goodbye", "Two Step" and "Rhyme & Reason" that night, and there was just too much stuff from the new CD, which I am not particularly fond of). It was a great show. And I am glad my daughter's first big rock concert was mostly spent in the luxury box, with a bird's eye view of all that's wrong, funny, crazy and good about college/high school kids. I think she got a musical and social education. It'll be one she will rightly remember.