oh, nugget

oh nugget.  you are a person of such strong feelings, especially about rolling around on blankets between mom and dad, popping off little smiles like a baby discovering clever super powers manifest in a world of cherry and rambutan baby food and bouts of horror strapped into a baby car seat.  such bleak loneliness, all that, with no means of judging how long squirm time must stop.  your first brain freeze, a notion of temperance, that too much of a good thing can somehow be bad, i confess i mostly understand that particular paradox in terms of photosytnthesis and cell division.  so many uses for bbrain cells, and the most stark realization ever, that things like ice cream get used up and somehow come to an end.  cry about that one, it never stops.  this six months, an eyeblink in a world of bills and semesters, an eternity for you, in nugget time, measured in smiles and objects chewed.  a tooth.  soon more.   a little friend to me now.

first attempt at solid food

The Night Metal Healed Me

Last Friday, I felt a pang of sympathy for Alexi Laiho, lead vocalist and guitar for Children of Bodom. Broken shoulder, internal damage, only a few weeks healed, and the bastard was playing the Congress Theatre.  All week, my back hurt like hell.   On Mon, scary shooting pains crept down my leg with every step.   I remember limping to my parking space, in a -no perking 7-9AM 4-6PM spot.  Normally, this little zone of Racine is a godsend to my slacker schedule; in thecdoor at 9:15 and out by 3:45. No worries.  PhD bought me slack, not world domination.  On Mon, every cruel step to keep my car from an expensive ticket was a deathmarch. All week, I tried to take it easy.  Best I can figure, my paltry sets of 20 pushups had worked, loosening the ligaments in my spine and granting me new mobility.  This turned out to be BAD.  One of the long-ossified lumbar vertebrae must have given ground, allowing slippage, bone against bone.  The show was a 40th birthday present from a friend who knew I needed a dose of metal.

    Children of Bodom, THIS was the band Lil' Hateful and I were dying to see.  You could find us on the Hate Crew Deathroll if you looked hard enough, i imagine.  

  All week, my crushing lumbar vertebrae, victims of an uncommon and painful arthritis, threatened ruin.  I doled out three different pain meds on a tight schedule....waiting patiently for the next dose-the next of the handfull of pills in my pocket.  It was like the bad old days, when I felt like this all the time.  Turns out, ol Alexi took a step off a tour bus and did a number on his shoulder, about the time I was filing my taxes.  Neither of us cancelled.    

   Two brownies and a two great bands into the show, Alexi was there, playing an agony-tinged version of 'Bed of Razors', and I was feeling fine. It was an amazing performance. What it lacked in stage antics, it made up for in ferocious musicianship. 

  Also incredible that night, btw, were God Forbid, a band I had not given notice to before. The lead singer, Byron Davis, is a monster, a sasquatch stumbled out of a mesolithic New Jersey forest, full of rage and menace. No stone tools . 

  Municipal Waste was more of a trilobite, a well-preserved relic of some ancient thrash past...closest I will ever get to seeing Exodus play live, most likely. 

  As I Lay Dying and Lamb of God also played amazing sets. The former was notable for its gigantic melody, the latter for its sublime grasp of rhythm.  Fists were punched in the air to a morbid half-ironic chorus of "now you've got something to die for"

  By the end of the night, sweaty from headbanging, something I had originally planned not to do, and giddy from hours of screaming nihilistic slogans, we slipped out of the Congress, pleasantly wasted.  My friend had been noticing chicken hawks all night.  The crowd of fans ranged from around nine to about sixty- a sign that metal has a future.   I worry or industrial music because I do NOT feel old at the shows.  No new recruits is bleak news...doesn't help that the oldsters treat the neophytes like refuse.

  Still, blue collar ritual and ALL AGES together have a downside.  The sea of burly, goatees and metal shirts was punctuated by out of touch older men not sporting the appropriate tribal affiliations, and girls barely over sixteen, who should not have left the house the way they were dressed (thank god they managed it somehow).  Note to self-avoid paunch at all costs.  Addendum.  Sixteen year olds, both sexes, are off limits for staring. 

   Climbing into a cab, it was 11...time for an Aleve, an Ibuprofin, etc. 

   Nuts. Didn't need em. Feeling fine.

agony

lumbar vertebrae. architectural collapse. odious.

Andrena pruni

The first bees of the season are Andrena pruni, nesting in a huge suburban aggregation, under hedges, in garden soil, a little on the silty loam side, but nothing spectuacularly sandy, and certainly not mud banks. there must have been two or three hundred males, digging around for females to root out of the ground, to which they would apply their furious male copulatory energies. Live fast, little bees.

semesters

they come and go like waves washing some primordial beach. i am the beach, i suppose, as one semester after another comes crashing over me, i erode, pulverize, move in subtle fashion, but to all appearances, here i am as millions of gallons of water move northward, or downward, and on through the gill rakers of strange fish, over branching gorgonian polyps, through vast tropical adventure. this desk of me has been in this room since some time in the 1980's I think, or earlier, and was placed in this location, in part, because of a dream I had in 2000. it is the still center of a turning world here. few things change, but the steady stratification of grade files, like geological layers, progresses inevitably. buried like trilobite fossils are the grades of my friends who have taken the class and gone on to do other things. Little Hateful, there you are in an odd deposit taught by a visiting professor, My Clone, there you are twice, once as a student, second as a TA, and the rest of you, like paleozoic fish. one more wave crashes, and now is that strange moment where water begins to ebb rather than flow, small crustacea forage.

window plastic season is over

it is grey and pale and it excites me to no end. the puddles. the rainy-day recess of youth full of board games. the sudden encroachment of rivers, pooling wetlands under our tent, waking us from sound slumber. out there, somewere, there are still snakes, and anglerfish. in here, my coffee is mostly used up, and i play games with time till class begins. a bell. a beginning. suddenly, i feel it, like the tulip syllables and choruses of mighty cardinals.