Yesterday marked 8 months since Sam left us. It just happened to be occupied by the end of a 3-month dating relationship with LA. There were some misunderstandings and a few hurt feelings, but it's mostly ironed out now, and we are going to remain friends, which is good. I value LA's presence in my life, and the light she brought into a very dark time. She's a great woman and deserves a guy who can fully reciprocate her feelings. Nothing but good reviews here.
I guess that, even though I was totally going to avoid the whole dating/relationship thing for a long time (look how well that worked out), I've gone and done the same exact thing a lot of my fellow bereaved do. They are so lonely for a taste of what they've lost, they get in over their heads (in whichever way you want to imagine), and before long, there is the gnashing of teeth and the wailing of broken hearts when the non-widda in the relationship gets inadvertently stomped on. It's not something I'm especially proud of, but I guess I've earned my Widda-Scouts Premature Relationship Merit Badge. My widda friend Lisa in Florida says I'm going to be a Widda Eagle Scout soon... or something. Huzzah.
I was listening to an old song by the Chameleons today. The title of today's blog entry actually comes from the original song title (it ended up just being shortened to Tears), and has to do with frontman/songwriter Mark's experience of losing a friend to cancer. Funny how it speaks to my relationship with Samantha. I'm missing her very acutely now.
TEARS
It's just coincidence
Well you can talk that way
But I have to say
I don't believe in it
And with the chill of chance
I decided to dance the days away
And I wasn't worried at all
Sneaking through the backdoor
No I wasn't worried at all
Dreams are what you live for
Waiting for the light to turn green
Carry me home
To the kindest eyes that I've ever seen
Carry me home
Can you tell me how will it be now?
How will it be?
Well we were younger then
And the days were long and slow
But were we wiser then?
I couldn't say
I wouldn't know
But I wasn't worried at all
I had someone to run to
No I wasn't worried at all
I knew which way the wind blew
Kicking out the chaos and gloom
Carry me home
I'll watch the ceiling spin round the room
Carry me home
Can you tell me how will it be now?
How will it be?
In a cold world how will it be?
In the real world how will it be?
In a lonely world
How will it be?
Will the ghosts just stop!
Following me
Now drawn into the sun
He was the only one
He cries out to everyone
For his only son
From the window of my room now
I can see the colour blue now
You can't even look in my eyes now
What would you see?
If you could look into my eyes now
What would you see?
What would you see?
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Saturday, December 10, 2005
The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe
Quick disclaimer - the Narnia books are beloved far and wide by kids 8 and up. Therefore, I went into the theater with a lot of expectations and willing to let a lot of little things slide. Little things like some occasionally whacked-out acting by the actors in the kids' roles (especially Lucy). Like little blemishes in the effects (with Rhythm & Hues, ILM and WETA behind this project, it surprised me how many effects shots looked like ass).
That said, my kids absolutely LOVED it. Kayleigh actually said, in her ever-ebullient manner, "That was the best movie in the history of the world!" Granted, she is the target age for the book series, and I'm waiting a few more years before showing her Citizen Kane. Call me crazy, but she may not always feel that way.
I enjoyed the film immensely (all effects nitpicks aside). It was VERY faithful to the book, and where it does trim, it trims with love. The cast members were well picked for their resemblance to respective characters, and Liam Neeson I thought was a good choice for Aslan. Many would have opted for a real booming basso like James Earl "Mufasa" Jones or the like, but Neeson has a gentleness to his voice that is very appropriate here. The performances are "by the book" - that is to say, the acting is all very faithful to the novel and does not tread far from the page. No one really pushes the envelope (as I thought Viggo Mortensen did in Lord of the Rings). And that's just fine.
Let me just say the gryphons rock the house. They are the one element that really stands on equal footing with the best fantasy movie bits ever. Oh, and seeing Angus from Highlander in the role of Father Christmas was a nice geek moment. The beavers are cool (Ray Winstone & Dawn French are terrific in their voices). Mr. Tumnus the faun is cool. The wolves are ok. Wasn't really digging the White Witch's dwarf henchman, but Tilda Swinton was quite good in the WW role. Jim Broadbent (a BBC veteran of such comedy as Blackadder) was really charming as the professor. The centaurs are probably the weakest in terms of facial appliances - their makeup was not as well done as it could have (or should have) been. Production design was otherwise beautiful. Score was adequate, if uninspired. Cinematography was lovely. It is perhaps more fair and accurate to equate this film adaptation with the Harry Potter movies, in scope and execution. I've heard many comparisons with LotR, and it's really not even the same ballpark.
Bottom line, if you like the Narnia books and sparkly, fairy-tale fantasy, I recommend it. I wouldn't take a kid under 7 or 8, as there are some pretty intense moments. But it's a nice escape from the bustle of holiday shopping and will eventually go on my DVD shelf alongside LotR and Harry Potter.
Now let me vent about the two things that almost ruined the experience. The lesser of the two was the Star Jones wannabe Montel renegade in the track suit who, in the middle of the climactic scene, decided to get into a loud argument with the patrons around her. She finally did exit in a huff, telling everyone who shushed her, "y'all be trippin'!" I hate it when stereotypes come true.
The second and more irksome thing was that outside the theater were a handful of Christian fundamentalists passing out these cute little cards with some nice graphics from the film and C.S. Lewis - The Chronicles Collectible printed on them - as if to indicate some kind of official connection to the film. On the back, however, was a hardcore tract about how if you'd broken any of the Commandments, you were going to hell. Now, I understand that C.S. Lewis was Christian, and that The Chronicles of Narnia is a Christian analog. HOWEVER... it is also just plain classic fantasy literature, and shame on those hucksters for using it as a bully pulpit to scare children, a most un-Christian act. I'm sure Disney would love to know their film, for which they paid huge license fees to make, was being co-opted by some of the same zealots who urged a boycott of Disney due to their gay-friendly corporate culture. The hypocrisy here is simply astounding.
Fortunately, some of the more clear-thinking parents complained to the theater staff, and the hucksters were driven from the premises. Parents taking children to the film may want to be aware that this is going on, in case you don't want your preteen being threatened with eternal damnation before you actually have a chance to discuss theology with them.
Other than that, a pretty good day.
For the record, I was raised Presbyterian, briefly went to Catholic school, married a Pagan, and wound up with a Deist philosophy (like most of this country's founding fathers). I have nothing against a person's faith, unless it becomes invasive and used as a weapon against others. If more proponents of a given faith would actually live their lives by their own religion's doctrines, we wouldn't have nearly as much strife in the world. Thank God I'm a Deist. Amen. ;)
That said, my kids absolutely LOVED it. Kayleigh actually said, in her ever-ebullient manner, "That was the best movie in the history of the world!" Granted, she is the target age for the book series, and I'm waiting a few more years before showing her Citizen Kane. Call me crazy, but she may not always feel that way.
I enjoyed the film immensely (all effects nitpicks aside). It was VERY faithful to the book, and where it does trim, it trims with love. The cast members were well picked for their resemblance to respective characters, and Liam Neeson I thought was a good choice for Aslan. Many would have opted for a real booming basso like James Earl "Mufasa" Jones or the like, but Neeson has a gentleness to his voice that is very appropriate here. The performances are "by the book" - that is to say, the acting is all very faithful to the novel and does not tread far from the page. No one really pushes the envelope (as I thought Viggo Mortensen did in Lord of the Rings). And that's just fine.
Let me just say the gryphons rock the house. They are the one element that really stands on equal footing with the best fantasy movie bits ever. Oh, and seeing Angus from Highlander in the role of Father Christmas was a nice geek moment. The beavers are cool (Ray Winstone & Dawn French are terrific in their voices). Mr. Tumnus the faun is cool. The wolves are ok. Wasn't really digging the White Witch's dwarf henchman, but Tilda Swinton was quite good in the WW role. Jim Broadbent (a BBC veteran of such comedy as Blackadder) was really charming as the professor. The centaurs are probably the weakest in terms of facial appliances - their makeup was not as well done as it could have (or should have) been. Production design was otherwise beautiful. Score was adequate, if uninspired. Cinematography was lovely. It is perhaps more fair and accurate to equate this film adaptation with the Harry Potter movies, in scope and execution. I've heard many comparisons with LotR, and it's really not even the same ballpark.
Bottom line, if you like the Narnia books and sparkly, fairy-tale fantasy, I recommend it. I wouldn't take a kid under 7 or 8, as there are some pretty intense moments. But it's a nice escape from the bustle of holiday shopping and will eventually go on my DVD shelf alongside LotR and Harry Potter.
Now let me vent about the two things that almost ruined the experience. The lesser of the two was the Star Jones wannabe Montel renegade in the track suit who, in the middle of the climactic scene, decided to get into a loud argument with the patrons around her. She finally did exit in a huff, telling everyone who shushed her, "y'all be trippin'!" I hate it when stereotypes come true.
The second and more irksome thing was that outside the theater were a handful of Christian fundamentalists passing out these cute little cards with some nice graphics from the film and C.S. Lewis - The Chronicles Collectible printed on them - as if to indicate some kind of official connection to the film. On the back, however, was a hardcore tract about how if you'd broken any of the Commandments, you were going to hell. Now, I understand that C.S. Lewis was Christian, and that The Chronicles of Narnia is a Christian analog. HOWEVER... it is also just plain classic fantasy literature, and shame on those hucksters for using it as a bully pulpit to scare children, a most un-Christian act. I'm sure Disney would love to know their film, for which they paid huge license fees to make, was being co-opted by some of the same zealots who urged a boycott of Disney due to their gay-friendly corporate culture. The hypocrisy here is simply astounding.
Fortunately, some of the more clear-thinking parents complained to the theater staff, and the hucksters were driven from the premises. Parents taking children to the film may want to be aware that this is going on, in case you don't want your preteen being threatened with eternal damnation before you actually have a chance to discuss theology with them.
Other than that, a pretty good day.
For the record, I was raised Presbyterian, briefly went to Catholic school, married a Pagan, and wound up with a Deist philosophy (like most of this country's founding fathers). I have nothing against a person's faith, unless it becomes invasive and used as a weapon against others. If more proponents of a given faith would actually live their lives by their own religion's doctrines, we wouldn't have nearly as much strife in the world. Thank God I'm a Deist. Amen. ;)
Another Easter Egg
God bless Craigslist! Less than 48 hours after listing the old piano and recliners, they were gone. After removing the recliner that had been in the front office by the printer table, I was cleaning and found an old SmartMedia card (the kind we use in the old digital camera). I popped it in the card reader and, lo and behold, 25 pictures taken on our trip to Indianapolis for GenCon 2003. Sam had undergone almost a year of constant chemo by the time this was taken, and remarkably enough, still had hair and a decent skin tone. Aside from extra water retention and some sinking of the eyes, it's hard to tell she's even sick. After this, the decline was more marked and steady.Note the kids' excitement at being at GenCon. Wow.
Taking the kids to Narnia today. I've been looking forward to a really good film version since 1976, when Mr. Miles read The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe to our combined 2nd/3rd grade class at Rio Del Mar Elementary School.
In regard to the dream post and "rescuing" women, let me just recap:
1) it was a dream
2) as such, its insight is into MY psyche - it means nothing outside of that
3) the whole message behind that post was that I have no need or desire to "rescue" anyone
4) if you're gonna troll a blog, do someone else's
5) if you feel you have to troll mine, at least read the bloody post and make sure you understand it before you go making an idiot out of yourself
6) if you must make an idiot out of yourself, at least have the balls to sign a name
I'll post a review of the film later today.
Friday, December 09, 2005
Shoot Him Now! Shoot Him Now!
Apparently, according to the anonymous comment on the last entry, I'm being way too damn hard on myself. I disagree, in that I'm just out here on my board, surfing the waves of grief, (coming up on) 8 months without the woman I loved most in the world. And at the end of the month, one day shy of his wedding anniversary, 7 months without my dad. That's just a basic fact. Yeah, I feel badly that they're gone. I mourn for their passing, and for the forced change their absence makes in my life. I watch old video and feel like I'm watching someone else's life, because my life now is fundamentally different. And it fucking hurts.
But I don't feel like I beat myself up about it. I don't feel like I go particularly hard on myself. My dad and I were on GREAT terms when he died. And I gave Samantha the best transition a wife could hope for - if she had to go at all. There were no issues outstanding between my dad and me, nor were there any between Sam and me. Except for the fact that they were both way too young to die and it's not bloody fair. But that's MY feeling, because I am left here to pick up the pieces. They're doing just fine, wherever they are.
There's nothing I particularly want to do about it, except feel the feelings and address the issues now, so I don't have to rehash it in a shrink's office ten years down the road when my kids have disowned me and I'm on my third rebound marriage. I'm very clear on the whole not-stuffing-your-feelings-into-a-little-ball thing.
If anything, I'm overindulgent with myself. My whole existence has reverted to that of a selfish 16 year old - the universe revolves around ME and MY shit, my daily routine, my schedule. I easily slide into self-pity or emotional loner mode, neglect basic chores or errands, and become passive in relationships (or vanish altogether when it's too painful to face others). I engage in retail therapy when I really shouldn't (and guys don't buy shoes or a new outfit - we buy big-ticket electronics and computer hardware).
It is what it is. And as long as we have a warm meal together at night and the kids make it to school with clean clothes on and their hair occasionally brushed, it's all good.
There is a basic truth in all this grief: The only way out is through. And if I can make it through Christmas and New Year's Eve, then I will just have a few major anniversaries to worry about (Sam's birthday, Dad's birthday, Sam's death, Dad's death) then the first year will be done and after that the anniversaries hold less and less power over your emotional state.
And now for some less depressing - and gosh darn it, even uplifting - news. We put up the Christmas tree. Or rather, my stepmom helped the kids put up the tree while I was watching Thomas Jefferson and John Adams debate in Tukwila on Wednesday night. We decorated it last night, including ornaments from our first years of marriage, the kids' first ornaments, and the pair of little teddy bears we always tied at the top of the tree. Kayleigh is going to take Samantha's stocking with the unicorn on it. Tyler is sticking with the needlepoint one Sam made for him when he was a baby. There are already some gifts under the tree, and the living room is full of white kitchen trash bags filled with old clothes and toys for charity.
The other bit of good news is that I got behind a camera for the first time in years yesterday, and it felt really good. My friend David Choi, with whom I co-founded Next2Nothing Studios, contracted me to operate the DV cam at a Holland America corporate video shoot. David is one of the most generous people I've ever known, and simply the opportunity to frame a shot and say, "camera's rolling" was a blessing in my current circumstance. We met at the N2N studio in Ballard at about Noon, where Dave had matching N2N shirts for us - very pro. We went over the expectations of the shoot, the game plan, etc. This was a pivotal moment for Dave's operation, because he's a little fish and wants to swim with the sharks, so the more pro we looked, the better N2N looks in the eyes of the folks at HAL.
To sum up, we rocked the joint. Hauled the gear to HAL HQ close to downtown Seattle, set up in a big paneled conference room with a china cabinet and beautiful art deco cruise posters from Holland America's 130+ years in the biz. The CEO of Holland America came in at 2PM, Sheila did her makeup magic, Phil set lights, Jason rigged the audio, I pushed the little red button, and Dave directed. We did several takes with the guy reading from a big prompter board and just ad-libbing (which Dave definitely preferred). We were broken down and out of there by 3:15. And, more importantly, the folks at Holland America liked what we did.
It feels good to be back in the biz and making new connections again.
Gonna hang with Caleb, Ron and the kids tonight, eat pizza and watch movies. Tomorrow, I'm taking the kiddos to the Narnia film, and Sunday I'm supposed to go into Brian's studio to lay down more guide tracks for Sam's tribute CD project. Somewhere in there I have to fit a coffee date. And now, to the gym - this fat ain't gonna burn itself. And we're having pizza tonight, fer cryin' out loud!
But I don't feel like I beat myself up about it. I don't feel like I go particularly hard on myself. My dad and I were on GREAT terms when he died. And I gave Samantha the best transition a wife could hope for - if she had to go at all. There were no issues outstanding between my dad and me, nor were there any between Sam and me. Except for the fact that they were both way too young to die and it's not bloody fair. But that's MY feeling, because I am left here to pick up the pieces. They're doing just fine, wherever they are.
There's nothing I particularly want to do about it, except feel the feelings and address the issues now, so I don't have to rehash it in a shrink's office ten years down the road when my kids have disowned me and I'm on my third rebound marriage. I'm very clear on the whole not-stuffing-your-feelings-into-a-little-ball thing.
If anything, I'm overindulgent with myself. My whole existence has reverted to that of a selfish 16 year old - the universe revolves around ME and MY shit, my daily routine, my schedule. I easily slide into self-pity or emotional loner mode, neglect basic chores or errands, and become passive in relationships (or vanish altogether when it's too painful to face others). I engage in retail therapy when I really shouldn't (and guys don't buy shoes or a new outfit - we buy big-ticket electronics and computer hardware).
It is what it is. And as long as we have a warm meal together at night and the kids make it to school with clean clothes on and their hair occasionally brushed, it's all good.
There is a basic truth in all this grief: The only way out is through. And if I can make it through Christmas and New Year's Eve, then I will just have a few major anniversaries to worry about (Sam's birthday, Dad's birthday, Sam's death, Dad's death) then the first year will be done and after that the anniversaries hold less and less power over your emotional state.
And now for some less depressing - and gosh darn it, even uplifting - news. We put up the Christmas tree. Or rather, my stepmom helped the kids put up the tree while I was watching Thomas Jefferson and John Adams debate in Tukwila on Wednesday night. We decorated it last night, including ornaments from our first years of marriage, the kids' first ornaments, and the pair of little teddy bears we always tied at the top of the tree. Kayleigh is going to take Samantha's stocking with the unicorn on it. Tyler is sticking with the needlepoint one Sam made for him when he was a baby. There are already some gifts under the tree, and the living room is full of white kitchen trash bags filled with old clothes and toys for charity.
The other bit of good news is that I got behind a camera for the first time in years yesterday, and it felt really good. My friend David Choi, with whom I co-founded Next2Nothing Studios, contracted me to operate the DV cam at a Holland America corporate video shoot. David is one of the most generous people I've ever known, and simply the opportunity to frame a shot and say, "camera's rolling" was a blessing in my current circumstance. We met at the N2N studio in Ballard at about Noon, where Dave had matching N2N shirts for us - very pro. We went over the expectations of the shoot, the game plan, etc. This was a pivotal moment for Dave's operation, because he's a little fish and wants to swim with the sharks, so the more pro we looked, the better N2N looks in the eyes of the folks at HAL.
To sum up, we rocked the joint. Hauled the gear to HAL HQ close to downtown Seattle, set up in a big paneled conference room with a china cabinet and beautiful art deco cruise posters from Holland America's 130+ years in the biz. The CEO of Holland America came in at 2PM, Sheila did her makeup magic, Phil set lights, Jason rigged the audio, I pushed the little red button, and Dave directed. We did several takes with the guy reading from a big prompter board and just ad-libbing (which Dave definitely preferred). We were broken down and out of there by 3:15. And, more importantly, the folks at Holland America liked what we did.
It feels good to be back in the biz and making new connections again.
Gonna hang with Caleb, Ron and the kids tonight, eat pizza and watch movies. Tomorrow, I'm taking the kiddos to the Narnia film, and Sunday I'm supposed to go into Brian's studio to lay down more guide tracks for Sam's tribute CD project. Somewhere in there I have to fit a coffee date. And now, to the gym - this fat ain't gonna burn itself. And we're having pizza tonight, fer cryin' out loud!
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
More Dreams
I've been having more dreams again. In them, Sam and I are sitting at a table in an ethereal, nondescript setting. I can't hear the specifics of what we're talking about, but I can hear her voice, and I'm pretty sure she's telling me something serious. I've been waking up feeling a bit more engaged in the world, which has been pretty good...
...until yesterday.
Something in the world switched off. Something shifted, and I feel precarious and on my guard again. Some of it might have to do with the dreams. Some of it may have to do with the fact that I gave Sam's old piano away to free up space. There may be a tinge of guilt there, even though it was falling apart, out of tune and totally impractical for us to hang onto - and we need space to put up our Christmas tree.
And then, last night, I had a very vivid dream that has me questioning everything today. I was in this big old house (totally unfamiliar to me), and there was a young woman with a baby (also totally unfamiliar), and I was helping her escape from an ogre of a man - not sure if it was a father or an abusive husband or what. We packed up her stuff (which really only amounted to the infant and the clothes on her back), and I got between the ogre and the woman. Then Sam rang the telephone to distract the guy (for some reason I knew it was her calling from beyond the Veil, to help us escape), and we ducked out the garage door to my car and drove away.
Holy shit. Is this how I see myself? Am I the rescuer of women? Am I the stand-up guy, the knight in shining fucking armor?? Is this a warning, or a premonition? And the most terrifying thing about the whole ordeal is that I didn't feel anything for the woman I was helping. I was only living up to some role, going through empty motions. Pardon all the profanity in this paragraph, but this scares the shit out of me. Especially since there are quite a few single mothers in my life (no offense to any who may be reading this). I have enough on my plate without "rescuing" someone else. I need to just slow down and get my head and my heart in sync. I understand that a lot of widowers date relatively early in the grief process, and many have written that in retrospect it was too early. And I'm getting a lot of stimulus right now, and am feeling a bit emotionally overwhelmed.
So I need to just focus on the moment and get through the holiday without Sam the best I can. I need to listen to less Flir and more Brian Setzer Christmas music. I need to build the new bookshelves in my studio, attend the Clay Jenkinson Thomas Jefferson event tonight and do a damn good corporate video shoot on Thursday. I need to get the chainlink dog run from Home Depot so Wiley doesn't have to be tethered or kenneled when we leave him home. I need to finish my Christmas shopping and generally do things that are motivated by legitimate feelings, and not just do things because I'm the kind of guy who SHOULD do them.
UPDATE: While cleaning the corner where the piano used to be, I found an old videotape of my son Tyler as a baby, including his first Christmas (with both families - including Samantha & my dad - in attendance). Sam was such a good mom. Seeing that, and what we had as a couple, as a family, breaks my heart now that it's gone. My dad was an awesome grandpa. So that was the straw that broke the camel's back, and suddenly I'm being smashed around by a great big grief wave. Happy Holidays.
...until yesterday.
Something in the world switched off. Something shifted, and I feel precarious and on my guard again. Some of it might have to do with the dreams. Some of it may have to do with the fact that I gave Sam's old piano away to free up space. There may be a tinge of guilt there, even though it was falling apart, out of tune and totally impractical for us to hang onto - and we need space to put up our Christmas tree.
And then, last night, I had a very vivid dream that has me questioning everything today. I was in this big old house (totally unfamiliar to me), and there was a young woman with a baby (also totally unfamiliar), and I was helping her escape from an ogre of a man - not sure if it was a father or an abusive husband or what. We packed up her stuff (which really only amounted to the infant and the clothes on her back), and I got between the ogre and the woman. Then Sam rang the telephone to distract the guy (for some reason I knew it was her calling from beyond the Veil, to help us escape), and we ducked out the garage door to my car and drove away.
Holy shit. Is this how I see myself? Am I the rescuer of women? Am I the stand-up guy, the knight in shining fucking armor?? Is this a warning, or a premonition? And the most terrifying thing about the whole ordeal is that I didn't feel anything for the woman I was helping. I was only living up to some role, going through empty motions. Pardon all the profanity in this paragraph, but this scares the shit out of me. Especially since there are quite a few single mothers in my life (no offense to any who may be reading this). I have enough on my plate without "rescuing" someone else. I need to just slow down and get my head and my heart in sync. I understand that a lot of widowers date relatively early in the grief process, and many have written that in retrospect it was too early. And I'm getting a lot of stimulus right now, and am feeling a bit emotionally overwhelmed.
So I need to just focus on the moment and get through the holiday without Sam the best I can. I need to listen to less Flir and more Brian Setzer Christmas music. I need to build the new bookshelves in my studio, attend the Clay Jenkinson Thomas Jefferson event tonight and do a damn good corporate video shoot on Thursday. I need to get the chainlink dog run from Home Depot so Wiley doesn't have to be tethered or kenneled when we leave him home. I need to finish my Christmas shopping and generally do things that are motivated by legitimate feelings, and not just do things because I'm the kind of guy who SHOULD do them.
UPDATE: While cleaning the corner where the piano used to be, I found an old videotape of my son Tyler as a baby, including his first Christmas (with both families - including Samantha & my dad - in attendance). Sam was such a good mom. Seeing that, and what we had as a couple, as a family, breaks my heart now that it's gone. My dad was an awesome grandpa. So that was the straw that broke the camel's back, and suddenly I'm being smashed around by a great big grief wave. Happy Holidays.
Saturday, December 03, 2005
Why David Whyte Rocks...
I went to see David Whyte speak at Benaroya Hall last night with my stepmom, two of her friends, my brother Gavin, and Caleb. Whyte had an Irish guitar & fiddle duo who opened each set of spoken word with the most beautiful Celtic music. If you don't know who David Whyte is, he's a celebrated Welsh/Irish poet who resides on Whidbey Island, WA. My father loved his work, as much of it has to do with reinvention of the self after terrible loss, or observing the dark in one's periphery as part of the nurturing whole, rather than something to be feared.
That's why I like his work too. Not just the subject matter, but the fact that it's just plain beautiful (and often painful) to read.
This comes from his book Everything is Waiting for You, and it speaks directly to my life with Samantha, and my life ahead without her:
LETTING GO
At the end
things pass away
into a hard won perspective
The sepia photographs
of childhood
like twilight encounters
with eternity
and the youthful
laughter peeling
across a mountainside.
Standing close together
we make our vows
in front of others
knowing
with a backward
kind of courage
that everything
passes
away no matter
how precious
the memory
and that
even in this
we recognize
the flourish
and the firm
signature of love.
Everything we ever
held in our hands
is given to another
or slips like sand
throught the gate
of our fingers
into something
which to begin with
we cannot recognize.
Everything we ever
held in our hands
is given away
in marriage to another
person or another world.
How could we know
the blessings
which illuminated our days?
The joy too strong to feel
until it was
no longer there to disturb us.
We find ourselves
always at last
ennobled by the encounter
the wedding vows
remembered at the end
and cherished now
like a live hand
holding a dead hand
loving everything it must let go.
That's why I like his work too. Not just the subject matter, but the fact that it's just plain beautiful (and often painful) to read.
This comes from his book Everything is Waiting for You, and it speaks directly to my life with Samantha, and my life ahead without her:
LETTING GO
At the end
things pass away
into a hard won perspective
The sepia photographs
of childhood
like twilight encounters
with eternity
and the youthful
laughter peeling
across a mountainside.
Standing close together
we make our vows
in front of others
knowing
with a backward
kind of courage
that everything
passes
away no matter
how precious
the memory
and that
even in this
we recognize
the flourish
and the firm
signature of love.
Everything we ever
held in our hands
is given to another
or slips like sand
throught the gate
of our fingers
into something
which to begin with
we cannot recognize.
Everything we ever
held in our hands
is given away
in marriage to another
person or another world.
How could we know
the blessings
which illuminated our days?
The joy too strong to feel
until it was
no longer there to disturb us.
We find ourselves
always at last
ennobled by the encounter
the wedding vows
remembered at the end
and cherished now
like a live hand
holding a dead hand
loving everything it must let go.
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Let it Snow!
That's right, first day of December, and we got snow in Seattle. How sweet is that? I mean, as long as you don't live on Queen Anne or Cap Hill, and can stay indoors most of the time...
That's what's nice about living where I do. It's a little slice of West Seattle that backs up to a state building and a green belt, with a large backyard and 1 block walking distance from all my basic necessities. We have a QFC, Rite Aid, Staples, Big 5, 24 Hour Fitness, Bed Bath & Beyond, Marshall's, Radio Shack, Pier 1, Sleep Country, Payless Shoes, Famous Footwear, Starbucks, Barnes & Noble (with a Starbucks), Hollywood Video/Game Crazy, Jamba Juice, Sub Shop, Laundromat (which I don't need), Thai restaurant, Teryaki restaurant, McDonald's, and a post office (among others). The only time I need to leave West Seattle for anything is to go to a first-run movie theater, and most of the time I can just walk down to Westwood shopping center to get what I need. This comes in handy on days like today, when I wanted to go work out. I just head down to the gym, do my thang, and get a nice warm down, walking home up the hill in the snow.
Getting my studio set up and am beginning the tutorials for some of the new software. Found a conflict with Vegas and my previous video capture unit. The Plextor ConvertX is USB. Vegas likes firewire. So firewire Vegas shall have. Better to trade up on a $150 vidcap unit than replace an $800 piece of software.
Watched Down With Love the other day. It was on our Netflix list before Sam died (that's how far behind I am). Loved the production design, the script, performances and direction - it was a nearly perfect homage to the Tony Randall/Rock Hudson/Doris Day wacky sex comedies from the early '60s.
Watched Shaun of the Dead with LA yesterday after a nice lunch at the Celtic Swell on Alki. She's a bit squeamish about the zombie/horror/slasher stuff, so I thought a comedy zombie horror film might be fun. Gawd, I love that film. She liked it too. At least she left with a smile on her face, but that may have been due to... something else entirely. As Stephen Colbert would say, "If you were here right now, I would totally high-five you, while winking."
Just watched Ali today. Very impressed with Will Smith in the title role. There were shots where I really had to do a double-take because he looked and sounded so much like Mohammed Ali. Unfortunately poor John Voight's brilliant performance as Howard Cosell was obscured by an atrocious makeup job. Jamie Foxx, Jada Pinkett Smith and Mario Van Peebles also stood out in their respective roles. I think the film strayed in a few places, at times becoming more of a civil rights lecture than a biopic of one of the greatest boxers in history. The lengthy Malcolm X assassination sequence is one example. Don't get me wrong - I love Michael Mann as a director, and I can now detect his visual style from a mile off. But sometimes he can meander.
My buddy Conor from the theater group has been writing a ton of music recently, and when he read my last blog entry about going back to Palo Alto and feeling enpty, he started writing a song. While I was writing this, he pinged me in MSN Messenger and sent me some lyrics:
I've seen the sun set on our seasons of love
by returning to the place where our lives begun
face of young, turned worn and old
as the ghosts of our joys haunts my drive down the road
memories of your touch, the sensation of smell
the nights we spent lyin', thinkin' time could stand still
lost in this world, I found a home in your heart
'til reality struck and tore us apart
you fought flesh with faith
gave me strength in your weakend state
then judgement was passed, as the sand fell fast,
your grace remained 'til the air we shared was your last
Conor says he can't take credit for it, as it was my experience that inspired the song. I say that is what a true artist does - he acts as a lens for the rest of society, translating the real into the surreal or the hyperreal or the fictional. Hats off to you, Conor. You took my feelings and wrote the song that was too painful for me to write. You are my champion-by-proxy. Thank you.
That's what's nice about living where I do. It's a little slice of West Seattle that backs up to a state building and a green belt, with a large backyard and 1 block walking distance from all my basic necessities. We have a QFC, Rite Aid, Staples, Big 5, 24 Hour Fitness, Bed Bath & Beyond, Marshall's, Radio Shack, Pier 1, Sleep Country, Payless Shoes, Famous Footwear, Starbucks, Barnes & Noble (with a Starbucks), Hollywood Video/Game Crazy, Jamba Juice, Sub Shop, Laundromat (which I don't need), Thai restaurant, Teryaki restaurant, McDonald's, and a post office (among others). The only time I need to leave West Seattle for anything is to go to a first-run movie theater, and most of the time I can just walk down to Westwood shopping center to get what I need. This comes in handy on days like today, when I wanted to go work out. I just head down to the gym, do my thang, and get a nice warm down, walking home up the hill in the snow.
Getting my studio set up and am beginning the tutorials for some of the new software. Found a conflict with Vegas and my previous video capture unit. The Plextor ConvertX is USB. Vegas likes firewire. So firewire Vegas shall have. Better to trade up on a $150 vidcap unit than replace an $800 piece of software.
Watched Down With Love the other day. It was on our Netflix list before Sam died (that's how far behind I am). Loved the production design, the script, performances and direction - it was a nearly perfect homage to the Tony Randall/Rock Hudson/Doris Day wacky sex comedies from the early '60s.
Watched Shaun of the Dead with LA yesterday after a nice lunch at the Celtic Swell on Alki. She's a bit squeamish about the zombie/horror/slasher stuff, so I thought a comedy zombie horror film might be fun. Gawd, I love that film. She liked it too. At least she left with a smile on her face, but that may have been due to... something else entirely. As Stephen Colbert would say, "If you were here right now, I would totally high-five you, while winking."
Just watched Ali today. Very impressed with Will Smith in the title role. There were shots where I really had to do a double-take because he looked and sounded so much like Mohammed Ali. Unfortunately poor John Voight's brilliant performance as Howard Cosell was obscured by an atrocious makeup job. Jamie Foxx, Jada Pinkett Smith and Mario Van Peebles also stood out in their respective roles. I think the film strayed in a few places, at times becoming more of a civil rights lecture than a biopic of one of the greatest boxers in history. The lengthy Malcolm X assassination sequence is one example. Don't get me wrong - I love Michael Mann as a director, and I can now detect his visual style from a mile off. But sometimes he can meander.
My buddy Conor from the theater group has been writing a ton of music recently, and when he read my last blog entry about going back to Palo Alto and feeling enpty, he started writing a song. While I was writing this, he pinged me in MSN Messenger and sent me some lyrics:
I've seen the sun set on our seasons of love
by returning to the place where our lives begun
face of young, turned worn and old
as the ghosts of our joys haunts my drive down the road
memories of your touch, the sensation of smell
the nights we spent lyin', thinkin' time could stand still
lost in this world, I found a home in your heart
'til reality struck and tore us apart
you fought flesh with faith
gave me strength in your weakend state
then judgement was passed, as the sand fell fast,
your grace remained 'til the air we shared was your last
Conor says he can't take credit for it, as it was my experience that inspired the song. I say that is what a true artist does - he acts as a lens for the rest of society, translating the real into the surreal or the hyperreal or the fictional. Hats off to you, Conor. You took my feelings and wrote the song that was too painful for me to write. You are my champion-by-proxy. Thank you.
Sunday, November 27, 2005
Home Again, Home Again.
We arrived home in three relatively intact pieces at about 6PM last night. 2000 more miles on the car, and a huge personal milestone achieved. I will add a day-by-day overview and pictures, but I wanted to make a start of it.
Saturday 11/19: Got the kids in the car and we were on the road by 8AM. Right on schedule. We made such good time that we stopped in Eugene for lunch with an old friend from High School, Gordon Kelley. We got to meet his "new" wife, Heather, who is a real sweetie. Gordon and I were in an experimental band in college (emphasis mine), Mozart Air Raid. He and Samantha were on the Palo Alto High School rally squad. We had burritos at this groovy little neighborhood hippie restaurant. It was cool. We made it down to Rogue River by about 5PM, and stayed the night at my best friend Randy's sister's B&B. If you're ever in Rogue River, Oregon, check out the Restful Nest. It's on the river in a beautiful setting, and Carolyn specializes in families. The house itself is an ever-evolving craft project, and the food is excellent. She has a huge pig, a shepherd named Foxy and a pug named (what else) Yoda. Showed Carolyn Sam's memorial DVD.
Sunday 11/20: We got a later start than I wanted, but nonetheless hit the road and made up a lot of time. Shasta was visible, and Tyler snapped a few pics from the car. It was really beautiful. Once we passed Yreka, however, I-5 becomes a long, straight road through nothing but brown. Kayleigh counted 17 hawks on the way to Randy & Rose's place in Rocklin. We arrived in the afternoon, grabbed some lunch and prepared to NOT jump in the car and drive somewhere. The house is amazing, a Mediterranean style showcase for Rose's business (she's an interior designer/decorator with a specialty in faux and murals). Lots of tile, big, open downstairs, palatial master suite... very nice. A house like that in the Bay Area would be topping $2.5 million easy. We got in touch with our old mate Chris Oeschger, former bosun of our SCA pirate household. Showed Chris & Randy Sam's memorial DVD, then went out for beers at the local brewpub. Their hefeweizen was awful, but there was a nut brown ale that could stand toe-to-toe with any of our robust PacNW brews. It was good to see Chris again. Hopefully it won't be another 15 years.
Monday 11/21: Randy and I took the kids to see Harry Potter and the Muthaf**in' Goblet of Fire. Despite the amount they had to chop from the book in the interest of time, we sure enjoyed that film. Went and hung out with my aunt Kendra, one of the two remaining children of Kenneth and Hettie Lou Downing now that my dad and uncle Doug are gone. Kendra took Kayleigh and I to the Hallmark store and had Kayleigh pick out Christmas ornaments - one of the things that Sam usually did for them. Had dinner with Kendra's family and Randy. Ate at a little CaliMex place called Dos Coyotes - good food! It's great to have a relationship with my aunt now, despite all the family politics and bullshit that has gone on for decades.
Tuesday 11/22: Headed out I-80 to the Bay Area. Stopped in Fremont/Newark at the home of father/chef/game designer/author/arcade game collector and Palo Alto High School buddy Colin Fisk and his wife Margaret. Chilled with the Fisks and their two boys, and another Paly friend, Sara (Mack) Stafford and her two youngest. Sara left, and Colin made us some lunch - then he and I watched Sam's memorial DVD together while the kids played in the garage "arcade" (Colin's collection of stand-up arcade videogames). Any of our buds in the Bay Area can contact Colin for a copy of the DVD, now that he has one. We hopped back in the car and headed across the Dumbarton Bridge (which I used to take every day when Sam & I lived in Fremont) into Palo Alto.
What a heartbreaker that was.
Drove past Sam's old house (or rather, the house standing where hers once stood), drove past my old house on Sutter (which we just sold). The new residents were home, and I asked the kids if they wanted to see the inside. I knew the buyers would let us take a quick peek. The kids declined, and I struggled with wanting to at least go and introduce myself. "This house has a lot of history... this is the driveway where Samantha and I kissed for the first time. This is the bedroom where I lived and made music and art and had sex for the first time (and many times after), the backyard we transformed into a medieval encampment for the first Kings film project, the pool where I had my 17th birthday (with Sam present)..." And then I realized... why? That means nothing to anyone but me. Those events really TRULY only had relevance to two people in the world, and one of them is gone. That leaves me, and I don't need to dwell on those past events. Just driving up to the house was a marker. That was closure enough for me.
I realized while driving around my old town that no matter how crowded and developed the place has become, it now feels profoundly empty. All that remain are ghosts of happier times, that don't synch up with the reality of now. As Luke Skywalker once said to Obi Wan, "There's nothing for me here now..."
We met another Paly friend, Marte Matthews, who is married to yet another Paly friend, Paul Means. She brought their son Jonathan (now almost 5), and together the 5 of us converged on the Klutz book headquarters in Palo Alto. Our family has a connection to the Klutz empire by way of my dad's cousin, children's entertainer Nancy Cassidy. She's recorded several albums of kid's songs, and her husband John kicked off their product line with Juggling for the Complete Klutz (and still runs the operation today, even though Klutz is now owned by Scholastic). My sister's friend Mindy works there, and she gave us a tour. It was very cool, and the kids had a blast in the craft room. They now have a set of construction cards with which you can build a medieval castle - guess what Tyler immediately gravitated to.
Went to Rengstorff Park in Mountain View and met Paul. Hung out with him for awhile and chatted. Paul was one of a select few people who got to know Sam at all in high school, and we used to party in our college years. Plus, he's a good Scot, and that goes a long way with me.
Met Sam's parents at Aldo in Los Altos. A truly prima Italian restaurant in every way, Aldo is owned by Donato and Marlene De Marchi. Marlene was a friend of Sam's in high school, and when she heard of Sam's death, she contacted me via email. Marlene held a benefit dinner at her San Francisco restaurant in conjunction with the Palo Alto High School Class of 1985 twenty-year reunion, and raised a very helpful amount of money for Sam's memorial fund, which has helped us get rid of some medical and related debt from Samantha's cancer fight. Marlene hosted us for dinner with her kids and Donato's father. Donato was working the kitchen and the tables, but kept appearing to check on our dinner. What an incredibly gracious and friendly man! The food was unbelievably good. Tyler, who is possibly the pickiest 11-year-old on the planet (and those of you with 11-year-olds know that's saying something!), had TWO servings of ravioli. We waddled off to Sam's parents' place, a condo/townhome where the Old Mill 6 movie theater used to be. You know, the place I worked in high school, where Sam & I went on our first date. Got the kids involved with stuff and left them in the grandparents' care while I went and met drummer pal Steven Fox for a couple beers at the Boardwalk, an old hangout of ours on El Camino. Whew! That was a day, and then some.
Wednesday 11/23: Got the kids in the car and headed over the hill to Santa Cruz. Drove by my old house off Pasatiempo Drive, where I lived just prior to moving to Palo Alto. Went down to Capitola and took the kids to lunch at Erik's Deli on 41st Ave. As with Palo Alto, more people and less ambiance... less feeling of belonging. Granted the 8 years I spent living there (1976 to 1984) were a long time ago, and a lot changed after the Loma Prieta quake. It was, on the whole, less painful than Palo Alto, as I didn't have as many Sam-related memories to be triggered there. Went out to the home of my oldest friend with whom I remain in contact. David Beach lives in Santa Cruz, not far from the Mystery Spot, with his wife Jane, daughter Audrey, son Isaac, a cat whose name eludes me, and mammoth dog Thurston. We caught up while the kids played outside in the trees. Showed Dave & Jane the memorial DVD (what are we up to now, 4?). Left Dave with some Deep7 books and a couple of my Impetus CDs. Hopefully it won't be another 8 or more years before we see them again.
Went a few miles down the windy Soquel roads and arrived at my uncle Russell's place. He's on the side of a hill, and you can look in a 360-degree turn and not see a single other home. They're THERE, just hidden in oaks and such. And he's got a view of Monterey Bay and the peninsula beyond. It just so happened that his two sons were home - Aaron had moved back from Chico with his fiancee, and Noah was home before starting his masters program at school. We went out for beers at a local joint near the Rio theater, where we used to go see movies all the time... hell, I saw The Empire Strikes Back there with my dad and Russell when it first came out. It was good to reconnect with my cousins, who I'd not seen since our wedding. Noah actually caught Sam's garter. We had a good dinner with Russell, the boys, Aaron's fiancee Alyssa (hope I spelled it right) who is a fantastic artist, and Russell's wife Gan Neh Na (a truly radiant soul). We watched Sam's DVD (#5 for the trip, and my 2nd time for the day), and then Russell pulled out this video from 1987. It was Thanksgiving, the 100 year celebration of the Downing family being in the Santa Clara valley. My uncle Doug was alive. My dad. Samantha. They were all there. Almost everyone was drinking. And drinking. And drinking. Sam & I were joined at the hip as if to say "watch my back - I'm not safe here". It was incredible to watch the politics and the interactions unfold at an event I'd completely blocked from memory. Still, good to have the time capsule. I'm dumping it to DVD for Russell, and saving the bit with Sam for my archives.
Fell asleep to the sound of coyotes in the hills.
Thursday 11/24: Thanksgiving Day. Awoke to the braying of the neighbor's donkey. Hung out with the family a bit at breakfast and Russell let the parakeets out so the kids could see them fly around. Said our goodbyes and headed back to Mountain View for Thanksgiving with Sam's parents. One the one hand, it was very strange not having Samantha there at Thanksgiving. It was also sad not having my father to call. And Sam's brother and sister-in-law were in Vegas, so it was just Carol, Gerry, the kids and me. We had the standard fare, and it was good. We had some wine I'd brought down from Bainbridge Island. We talked. It was a good day. Got a nice phone call from my friend Jennifer in Mississippi... only now she's in Florida. She was a mutual high school friend of Sam's and mine, a former cheerleader and theater geek.
Earlier, I'd found a photo of Sam I'd never seen before, and asked for a scan of it. When Carol popped the frame open to get it out, we discovered another handful of photos I'd never seen!! We had pie and watched the Travel Channel for awhile, then I put the kids to bed as we had to make an early start.
Friday 11/25: Awoke at 3AM for some reason. Tossed and turned for 2 hours, then got showered and dressed. Gerry and I braved the Black Friday shopping crowds at San Antonio Shopping Center for a 7" portable DVD unit at Radio Shack. We heard of fistfights breaking out over cheap laptops at Wal Mart. We went to Target and grabbed a handful of movies for the kids for the trip home. Thank God we were on foot. When we got back, the kids were still sleeping, so I walked next door to the Safeway and grabbed some doughnuts for breakfast (because I'm a bad father). Saw my old Paly media studies teacher, Mr. Thompson, on his way out. He looked eerily the same as he had 20 years ago. I got the kids up, we ate doughnuts, and we jumped in the car for the trip home.
This time, we went up 101. Down Van Ness in San Francisco, over the Golden Gate Bridge and over to the coast. We made fairly decent time. Nature unloaded the hardest rainfall I think I've ever driven through, but I have good wipers and traction/stability control, so we pressed on. Once across the border in Oregon, things along 101 get very curvy and winding. Because of the weather, darkness and twisty roads, I don't think I got out of 4th gear for 20 miles. So it was almost amusing when I got pulled over by a smokey in Bandon for 70 in a 55. Amusing mostly because I can't do more than 60 in 4th gear without being close to redlining. Also amusing because when 
Sam and I were driving down the coast many years ago, she was pulled over in Bandon for speeding in the Isuzu pickup. I think it must be one of the only sources of revenue they have, poor dears. So I will write a little letter to that effect and if I still have to pay the ticket and ruin a decade's perfect driving record, c'est la vie. And next time I go to Oregon, I'll skip Bandon altogether.
We made camp in a Motel 6 south of Florence, in the only room they had left - a smoking room. Bleh. About 10PM, the skies opened and a solid curtain of hail came down in the parking lot. It rained ice so hard, some actually bounced UP into the vents and came into our bathroom.
Oddly enough, except for smelling like an ashtray, I got the best night's sleep in that Motel 6 bed.
Saturday 11/26: Awoke at 7AM, showered the smoke-stink off me, and just threw on my old clothes (which totally defeated the purpose of showering the smoke off in the first place). Piled the kids into the car and headed north. We had breakfast in a charming little greasy spoon where Tyler ate like a horse. At one point, we looked up to see it raining outside the south half of the restaurant, and totally sunny and clear outside the north half. Went through Florence (for the second time this year), got some coffee and a couple pairs of headphones for the DVD player. Then off to the Sea Lion Caves. Most of the adults were out in the water, but we did get to see two adult females and a pup in the main cave. Hooked a right and headed over toward Portland, had lunch just shy of I-5, then headed north for home.
Being a holiday weekend when apparently everyone in Washington is visiting relatives in Oregon, we got to sit in a red snail track from south of Olympia to north of Tacoma. Finally arrived home to a very excited dog and a house in chaos (hey, I didn't get Caleb to clean it, just feed the animals and make sure we weren't robbed).
The results of the journey were many, and varied. We drove through three states, counted 27 hawks and 5 rainbows. I realized that part of my perception of Sam's parents was based upon Sam's perception of them. I also REALLY got the message that California is not my home. Aside from the very occasional visit to a dear friend or relative, I really don't feel like I ever need or desire to go back there. It made me appreciate my real home (here in Seattle) a lot more. I drove 2000 miles with two kids in my car (and they were fantastic, BTW). No other adult to help with discipline or driving or cost. And we all got home safely. I arrived home to a house in the disarray in which we left it, and the inspiration to do some serious winter purging. And some of the last bits of equipment for my studio/office arrived while we were gone, so I'll be VERY busy for the next few weeks finishing the space.
Saturday 11/19: Got the kids in the car and we were on the road by 8AM. Right on schedule. We made such good time that we stopped in Eugene for lunch with an old friend from High School, Gordon Kelley. We got to meet his "new" wife, Heather, who is a real sweetie. Gordon and I were in an experimental band in college (emphasis mine), Mozart Air Raid. He and Samantha were on the Palo Alto High School rally squad. We had burritos at this groovy little neighborhood hippie restaurant. It was cool. We made it down to Rogue River by about 5PM, and stayed the night at my best friend Randy's sister's B&B. If you're ever in Rogue River, Oregon, check out the Restful Nest. It's on the river in a beautiful setting, and Carolyn specializes in families. The house itself is an ever-evolving craft project, and the food is excellent. She has a huge pig, a shepherd named Foxy and a pug named (what else) Yoda. Showed Carolyn Sam's memorial DVD.
Sunday 11/20: We got a later start than I wanted, but nonetheless hit the road and made up a lot of time. Shasta was visible, and Tyler snapped a few pics from the car. It was really beautiful. Once we passed Yreka, however, I-5 becomes a long, straight road through nothing but brown. Kayleigh counted 17 hawks on the way to Randy & Rose's place in Rocklin. We arrived in the afternoon, grabbed some lunch and prepared to NOT jump in the car and drive somewhere. The house is amazing, a Mediterranean style showcase for Rose's business (she's an interior designer/decorator with a specialty in faux and murals). Lots of tile, big, open downstairs, palatial master suite... very nice. A house like that in the Bay Area would be topping $2.5 million easy. We got in touch with our old mate Chris Oeschger, former bosun of our SCA pirate household. Showed Chris & Randy Sam's memorial DVD, then went out for beers at the local brewpub. Their hefeweizen was awful, but there was a nut brown ale that could stand toe-to-toe with any of our robust PacNW brews. It was good to see Chris again. Hopefully it won't be another 15 years.Monday 11/21: Randy and I took the kids to see Harry Potter and the Muthaf**in' Goblet of Fire. Despite the amount they had to chop from the book in the interest of time, we sure enjoyed that film. Went and hung out with my aunt Kendra, one of the two remaining children of Kenneth and Hettie Lou Downing now that my dad and uncle Doug are gone. Kendra took Kayleigh and I to the Hallmark store and had Kayleigh pick out Christmas ornaments - one of the things that Sam usually did for them. Had dinner with Kendra's family and Randy. Ate at a little CaliMex place called Dos Coyotes - good food! It's great to have a relationship with my aunt now, despite all the family politics and bullshit that has gone on for decades.
Tuesday 11/22: Headed out I-80 to the Bay Area. Stopped in Fremont/Newark at the home of father/chef/game designer/author/arcade game collector and Palo Alto High School buddy Colin Fisk and his wife Margaret. Chilled with the Fisks and their two boys, and another Paly friend, Sara (Mack) Stafford and her two youngest. Sara left, and Colin made us some lunch - then he and I watched Sam's memorial DVD together while the kids played in the garage "arcade" (Colin's collection of stand-up arcade videogames). Any of our buds in the Bay Area can contact Colin for a copy of the DVD, now that he has one. We hopped back in the car and headed across the Dumbarton Bridge (which I used to take every day when Sam & I lived in Fremont) into Palo Alto.What a heartbreaker that was.
Drove past Sam's old house (or rather, the house standing where hers once stood), drove past my old house on Sutter (which we just sold). The new residents were home, and I asked the kids if they wanted to see the inside. I knew the buyers would let us take a quick peek. The kids declined, and I struggled with wanting to at least go and introduce myself. "This house has a lot of history... this is the driveway where Samantha and I kissed for the first time. This is the bedroom where I lived and made music and art and had sex for the first time (and many times after), the backyard we transformed into a medieval encampment for the first Kings film project, the pool where I had my 17th birthday (with Sam present)..." And then I realized... why? That means nothing to anyone but me. Those events really TRULY only had relevance to two people in the world, and one of them is gone. That leaves me, and I don't need to dwell on those past events. Just driving up to the house was a marker. That was closure enough for me.
I realized while driving around my old town that no matter how crowded and developed the place has become, it now feels profoundly empty. All that remain are ghosts of happier times, that don't synch up with the reality of now. As Luke Skywalker once said to Obi Wan, "There's nothing for me here now..."
We met another Paly friend, Marte Matthews, who is married to yet another Paly friend, Paul Means. She brought their son Jonathan (now almost 5), and together the 5 of us converged on the Klutz book headquarters in Palo Alto. Our family has a connection to the Klutz empire by way of my dad's cousin, children's entertainer Nancy Cassidy. She's recorded several albums of kid's songs, and her husband John kicked off their product line with Juggling for the Complete Klutz (and still runs the operation today, even though Klutz is now owned by Scholastic). My sister's friend Mindy works there, and she gave us a tour. It was very cool, and the kids had a blast in the craft room. They now have a set of construction cards with which you can build a medieval castle - guess what Tyler immediately gravitated to.
Went to Rengstorff Park in Mountain View and met Paul. Hung out with him for awhile and chatted. Paul was one of a select few people who got to know Sam at all in high school, and we used to party in our college years. Plus, he's a good Scot, and that goes a long way with me.
Met Sam's parents at Aldo in Los Altos. A truly prima Italian restaurant in every way, Aldo is owned by Donato and Marlene De Marchi. Marlene was a friend of Sam's in high school, and when she heard of Sam's death, she contacted me via email. Marlene held a benefit dinner at her San Francisco restaurant in conjunction with the Palo Alto High School Class of 1985 twenty-year reunion, and raised a very helpful amount of money for Sam's memorial fund, which has helped us get rid of some medical and related debt from Samantha's cancer fight. Marlene hosted us for dinner with her kids and Donato's father. Donato was working the kitchen and the tables, but kept appearing to check on our dinner. What an incredibly gracious and friendly man! The food was unbelievably good. Tyler, who is possibly the pickiest 11-year-old on the planet (and those of you with 11-year-olds know that's saying something!), had TWO servings of ravioli. We waddled off to Sam's parents' place, a condo/townhome where the Old Mill 6 movie theater used to be. You know, the place I worked in high school, where Sam & I went on our first date. Got the kids involved with stuff and left them in the grandparents' care while I went and met drummer pal Steven Fox for a couple beers at the Boardwalk, an old hangout of ours on El Camino. Whew! That was a day, and then some.
Wednesday 11/23: Got the kids in the car and headed over the hill to Santa Cruz. Drove by my old house off Pasatiempo Drive, where I lived just prior to moving to Palo Alto. Went down to Capitola and took the kids to lunch at Erik's Deli on 41st Ave. As with Palo Alto, more people and less ambiance... less feeling of belonging. Granted the 8 years I spent living there (1976 to 1984) were a long time ago, and a lot changed after the Loma Prieta quake. It was, on the whole, less painful than Palo Alto, as I didn't have as many Sam-related memories to be triggered there. Went out to the home of my oldest friend with whom I remain in contact. David Beach lives in Santa Cruz, not far from the Mystery Spot, with his wife Jane, daughter Audrey, son Isaac, a cat whose name eludes me, and mammoth dog Thurston. We caught up while the kids played outside in the trees. Showed Dave & Jane the memorial DVD (what are we up to now, 4?). Left Dave with some Deep7 books and a couple of my Impetus CDs. Hopefully it won't be another 8 or more years before we see them again.
Went a few miles down the windy Soquel roads and arrived at my uncle Russell's place. He's on the side of a hill, and you can look in a 360-degree turn and not see a single other home. They're THERE, just hidden in oaks and such. And he's got a view of Monterey Bay and the peninsula beyond. It just so happened that his two sons were home - Aaron had moved back from Chico with his fiancee, and Noah was home before starting his masters program at school. We went out for beers at a local joint near the Rio theater, where we used to go see movies all the time... hell, I saw The Empire Strikes Back there with my dad and Russell when it first came out. It was good to reconnect with my cousins, who I'd not seen since our wedding. Noah actually caught Sam's garter. We had a good dinner with Russell, the boys, Aaron's fiancee Alyssa (hope I spelled it right) who is a fantastic artist, and Russell's wife Gan Neh Na (a truly radiant soul). We watched Sam's DVD (#5 for the trip, and my 2nd time for the day), and then Russell pulled out this video from 1987. It was Thanksgiving, the 100 year celebration of the Downing family being in the Santa Clara valley. My uncle Doug was alive. My dad. Samantha. They were all there. Almost everyone was drinking. And drinking. And drinking. Sam & I were joined at the hip as if to say "watch my back - I'm not safe here". It was incredible to watch the politics and the interactions unfold at an event I'd completely blocked from memory. Still, good to have the time capsule. I'm dumping it to DVD for Russell, and saving the bit with Sam for my archives.
Fell asleep to the sound of coyotes in the hills.
Thursday 11/24: Thanksgiving Day. Awoke to the braying of the neighbor's donkey. Hung out with the family a bit at breakfast and Russell let the parakeets out so the kids could see them fly around. Said our goodbyes and headed back to Mountain View for Thanksgiving with Sam's parents. One the one hand, it was very strange not having Samantha there at Thanksgiving. It was also sad not having my father to call. And Sam's brother and sister-in-law were in Vegas, so it was just Carol, Gerry, the kids and me. We had the standard fare, and it was good. We had some wine I'd brought down from Bainbridge Island. We talked. It was a good day. Got a nice phone call from my friend Jennifer in Mississippi... only now she's in Florida. She was a mutual high school friend of Sam's and mine, a former cheerleader and theater geek.
Earlier, I'd found a photo of Sam I'd never seen before, and asked for a scan of it. When Carol popped the frame open to get it out, we discovered another handful of photos I'd never seen!! We had pie and watched the Travel Channel for awhile, then I put the kids to bed as we had to make an early start.Friday 11/25: Awoke at 3AM for some reason. Tossed and turned for 2 hours, then got showered and dressed. Gerry and I braved the Black Friday shopping crowds at San Antonio Shopping Center for a 7" portable DVD unit at Radio Shack. We heard of fistfights breaking out over cheap laptops at Wal Mart. We went to Target and grabbed a handful of movies for the kids for the trip home. Thank God we were on foot. When we got back, the kids were still sleeping, so I walked next door to the Safeway and grabbed some doughnuts for breakfast (because I'm a bad father). Saw my old Paly media studies teacher, Mr. Thompson, on his way out. He looked eerily the same as he had 20 years ago. I got the kids up, we ate doughnuts, and we jumped in the car for the trip home.
This time, we went up 101. Down Van Ness in San Francisco, over the Golden Gate Bridge and over to the coast. We made fairly decent time. Nature unloaded the hardest rainfall I think I've ever driven through, but I have good wipers and traction/stability control, so we pressed on. Once across the border in Oregon, things along 101 get very curvy and winding. Because of the weather, darkness and twisty roads, I don't think I got out of 4th gear for 20 miles. So it was almost amusing when I got pulled over by a smokey in Bandon for 70 in a 55. Amusing mostly because I can't do more than 60 in 4th gear without being close to redlining. Also amusing because when 
Sam and I were driving down the coast many years ago, she was pulled over in Bandon for speeding in the Isuzu pickup. I think it must be one of the only sources of revenue they have, poor dears. So I will write a little letter to that effect and if I still have to pay the ticket and ruin a decade's perfect driving record, c'est la vie. And next time I go to Oregon, I'll skip Bandon altogether.We made camp in a Motel 6 south of Florence, in the only room they had left - a smoking room. Bleh. About 10PM, the skies opened and a solid curtain of hail came down in the parking lot. It rained ice so hard, some actually bounced UP into the vents and came into our bathroom.
Oddly enough, except for smelling like an ashtray, I got the best night's sleep in that Motel 6 bed.
Saturday 11/26: Awoke at 7AM, showered the smoke-stink off me, and just threw on my old clothes (which totally defeated the purpose of showering the smoke off in the first place). Piled the kids into the car and headed north. We had breakfast in a charming little greasy spoon where Tyler ate like a horse. At one point, we looked up to see it raining outside the south half of the restaurant, and totally sunny and clear outside the north half. Went through Florence (for the second time this year), got some coffee and a couple pairs of headphones for the DVD player. Then off to the Sea Lion Caves. Most of the adults were out in the water, but we did get to see two adult females and a pup in the main cave. Hooked a right and headed over toward Portland, had lunch just shy of I-5, then headed north for home.
Being a holiday weekend when apparently everyone in Washington is visiting relatives in Oregon, we got to sit in a red snail track from south of Olympia to north of Tacoma. Finally arrived home to a very excited dog and a house in chaos (hey, I didn't get Caleb to clean it, just feed the animals and make sure we weren't robbed).
The results of the journey were many, and varied. We drove through three states, counted 27 hawks and 5 rainbows. I realized that part of my perception of Sam's parents was based upon Sam's perception of them. I also REALLY got the message that California is not my home. Aside from the very occasional visit to a dear friend or relative, I really don't feel like I ever need or desire to go back there. It made me appreciate my real home (here in Seattle) a lot more. I drove 2000 miles with two kids in my car (and they were fantastic, BTW). No other adult to help with discipline or driving or cost. And we all got home safely. I arrived home to a house in the disarray in which we left it, and the inspiration to do some serious winter purging. And some of the last bits of equipment for my studio/office arrived while we were gone, so I'll be VERY busy for the next few weeks finishing the space.
Friday, November 18, 2005
Hit the Road
We're prepping for a road trip to California, the kids and I. Spending Thanksgiving week visiting family and friends. This is long overdue.
I will have the laptop along and may be able to post during next week, but have patience if you don't see anything. There will be a full report when we get back!
Have a wonderful, joyous holiday. This will be a strange one without Sam and my dad around. I expect we'll get through it, but it will be strange nonetheless.
Off to bed - much to do in the morning.
I will have the laptop along and may be able to post during next week, but have patience if you don't see anything. There will be a full report when we get back!
Have a wonderful, joyous holiday. This will be a strange one without Sam and my dad around. I expect we'll get through it, but it will be strange nonetheless.
Off to bed - much to do in the morning.
Friday, November 11, 2005
Blackjack
21 years.
Listening to the new Kate Bush CD and cooking a feast for my gaming buddies. Trying not to give into the pain gnawing at my heart. Bought some beer at the store tonight, so will raise a toast later.
I miss you, Sam. Part of me will forever remain incomplete without your physical presence in my life. Though I may continue on and learn to live fully in time (as you wanted me to), part of me - the eternal 16 year old boy - will always be yours. That part of me left this plane with you. Treat him well. He represents my love that will be with you always.
Listening to the new Kate Bush CD and cooking a feast for my gaming buddies. Trying not to give into the pain gnawing at my heart. Bought some beer at the store tonight, so will raise a toast later.
I miss you, Sam. Part of me will forever remain incomplete without your physical presence in my life. Though I may continue on and learn to live fully in time (as you wanted me to), part of me - the eternal 16 year old boy - will always be yours. That part of me left this plane with you. Treat him well. He represents my love that will be with you always.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
November Kiss
Today's title comes from a track on my latest CD, Impetus - Triskelle. It signifies that magical moment when two awkward teenagers kissed in a suburban driveway and a relationship was born.
I'll keep today's entry short, as the event is too intense to talk about in great detail. I will instead quote from an email to my high school friend, game designer and writer Jason Sinclair:
Today, 21 years ago, Samantha and I had our first kiss in the driveway of my dad's house in Palo Alto. It's these memories that are the hardest - the early parts of our relationship... The learning curve, the experimentation, and much happier, more innocent times. I miss her terribly. It sucks that the loss of my dad is essentially a footnote in all this, but he and I were on good terms, and it's natural for your dad to die before you. There's continuity there. But it's not natural for your 35 year old wife to be diagnosed with cancer and die gasping for her last breath in your arms not three years later.
I'll keep today's entry short, as the event is too intense to talk about in great detail. I will instead quote from an email to my high school friend, game designer and writer Jason Sinclair:
Today, 21 years ago, Samantha and I had our first kiss in the driveway of my dad's house in Palo Alto. It's these memories that are the hardest - the early parts of our relationship... The learning curve, the experimentation, and much happier, more innocent times. I miss her terribly. It sucks that the loss of my dad is essentially a footnote in all this, but he and I were on good terms, and it's natural for your dad to die before you. There's continuity there. But it's not natural for your 35 year old wife to be diagnosed with cancer and die gasping for her last breath in your arms not three years later.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
Rock Me, Amadeus
Well another wonderful Blogger moment and the very carefully crafted post I'd just spent an hour on goes up in a poof of nothingness. I think the term rhymes with "clucking bell".
What I'd said was that today marks 21 years since Sam's and my first date. Two days later, we were together. I don't know how significant that sounds to those outside, but it seems pretty monumental to me, especially since we grew up, went to college, moved two states away and raised a family. You don't often get that from a 16yo boy and a 17yo girl. Once you get past the horny factor, you have to rely on your personalities and interests meshing to a certain degree.
So I thought I'd let Samantha relay the events of that weekend from a 1985 journal entry. The only discrepancies are that she didn't remember the movie (Amadeus) and we didn't go to another movie the following day with Randy and Dave. We went to pizza. She also puts the date of our union as November 10th, which was when we had our first kiss. Subsequently we always celebrated our anniversary as November 11, the day when she came over and we had the following conversation:
Me: So... are we, like, together now?
She: I think so.
Me: Cool.
She: If you want to be...
Me: Yeah, no, that's totally cool.
She: Great!
And thus the deal was sealed. Ah, young love. Here's how she tells it...
Anyway, on Novemmber 10, Todd Downing and I got together, though I had been wanting to get together with him for weeks. He's 6'4", blonde, blue eyes. A real sweetie. I want to write down all I can remember about that night. Friday night, November 9, Todd and I went to a movie at Old Mill. I can't remember what movie we saw. Anyway, we were early so we went to get ice cream at Cecil's. After the movie we went to Lyon's for hot chocolate. We talked a lot about a lot of things. Mostly life and psychic-ness.
The next day I was going to help him move into his new house (he's 16, it's more like his parents' house) and meet his two old friends Randy and David. Well, we all went to see a movie together and when we got back, we went inside for awhile. Todd walked me out to my car. He hugged me and I said, "I think I'm falling in love with you." It took so much courage to say that. I was afraid he would be scared off. He just held me for a minute, then he said something to the effect of, "I thought so." He was glad too, I think, that I said it. I knew I had to 'cuz he wasn't going to. Someone had to say something!
He gave me three simple, fumbling kisses (neither of us was quite sure what to do, I think) and walked, or floated, to his house. It was wonderful to watch him walk away. It was probably one of the happiest moments of my life.
What I'd said was that today marks 21 years since Sam's and my first date. Two days later, we were together. I don't know how significant that sounds to those outside, but it seems pretty monumental to me, especially since we grew up, went to college, moved two states away and raised a family. You don't often get that from a 16yo boy and a 17yo girl. Once you get past the horny factor, you have to rely on your personalities and interests meshing to a certain degree.
So I thought I'd let Samantha relay the events of that weekend from a 1985 journal entry. The only discrepancies are that she didn't remember the movie (Amadeus) and we didn't go to another movie the following day with Randy and Dave. We went to pizza. She also puts the date of our union as November 10th, which was when we had our first kiss. Subsequently we always celebrated our anniversary as November 11, the day when she came over and we had the following conversation:
Me: So... are we, like, together now?
She: I think so.
Me: Cool.
She: If you want to be...
Me: Yeah, no, that's totally cool.
She: Great!
And thus the deal was sealed. Ah, young love. Here's how she tells it...
Anyway, on Novemmber 10, Todd Downing and I got together, though I had been wanting to get together with him for weeks. He's 6'4", blonde, blue eyes. A real sweetie. I want to write down all I can remember about that night. Friday night, November 9, Todd and I went to a movie at Old Mill. I can't remember what movie we saw. Anyway, we were early so we went to get ice cream at Cecil's. After the movie we went to Lyon's for hot chocolate. We talked a lot about a lot of things. Mostly life and psychic-ness.
The next day I was going to help him move into his new house (he's 16, it's more like his parents' house) and meet his two old friends Randy and David. Well, we all went to see a movie together and when we got back, we went inside for awhile. Todd walked me out to my car. He hugged me and I said, "I think I'm falling in love with you." It took so much courage to say that. I was afraid he would be scared off. He just held me for a minute, then he said something to the effect of, "I thought so." He was glad too, I think, that I said it. I knew I had to 'cuz he wasn't going to. Someone had to say something!
He gave me three simple, fumbling kisses (neither of us was quite sure what to do, I think) and walked, or floated, to his house. It was wonderful to watch him walk away. It was probably one of the happiest moments of my life.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Velvet
Her skin is like velvet
Her face cut from stone
Her face cut from stone
Her eyes when she's smiling
Will never reach home
But hear how she sings
Her touch would be tender
Her lips would be warm
But when we're together
I'm always alone
But hear how she sings
But hear how she sings
Hear how she sings
Her skin is like velvet
So I went to her home
Her place like a palace
With things you can't own
Her skin is like velvet
And hear how she sings
Hear how she sings...
- A-ha
Monday, October 31, 2005
Party Pics!!
Tres amigos - Johnny Cash, Captain Mad Jack MacMadd, and Ellie May the farmer's daughter(you know, from the traveling salesman jokes...)
Halloween Scariness
I debated whether or not to post on this subject. But the way I see it, it's a key part of the widda experience, and should be talked about. Besides, Lisa already talked about her back-in-the-saddle experiences over on her blog (see Nothing Good About Grief), and that's given me some courage. And I can discuss it in abstract, non-specific terms so as not to offend.
So Friday was the weekly RPG session with the guys. Allan couldn't make it, but Mike, Jordan, Ron and I had a blast. Lots of humor, bad puns, good food, a bit of cerebral adventure. Felt like we were channelling our buddy Hans, who used to be the life of any game, but who has resided in San Diego working for Sony for the past few years. He is a painfully-missed member of the comedy team.
So Friday was the weekly RPG session with the guys. Allan couldn't make it, but Mike, Jordan, Ron and I had a blast. Lots of humor, bad puns, good food, a bit of cerebral adventure. Felt like we were channelling our buddy Hans, who used to be the life of any game, but who has resided in San Diego working for Sony for the past few years. He is a painfully-missed member of the comedy team.
Saturday, both kids went to their respective sleepovers. LA arrived, followed by Caleb, and the three of us trekked north to the Comic Stop for their costume party. I was a pirate, Caleb was Johnny Cash, LA went as a cowgirl (great belt buckle, BTW). Steve (Kingpin), JD (Wolverine), Brian M. (Nero), George (Lex Luthor) and James Taylor (himself) were there - the inker and comic mogul James Taylor, not the singer-songwriter. Casey Jones from the Mutant Turtles was also in attendance, as well as Napoleon Dynamite and Red Riding Hood (after the wolf got through with her). There were also the requisite jedi and miscellaneous theme costumes. Seattle rockers M-Set played live. There was beer, pizza, Halloween candy and geekery. It was fun.
And, if I can put this in the most clinical, abstract terms possible, later on there was the first physical intimacy I've had with anyone since Sam. Anyone other than Sam, actually, unless you count mouth-kissing with my first-grade girlfriend or slow-dance groping with my junior high prom date (which I don't). Now this kind of thing always has a tendency to create drama in a relationship, especially where there isn't technically a relationship. But it was a very positive experience. For one thing, it was good to know everything still worked, and I didn't have to look at the instructions again. Like riding a bike, for lack of a better metaphor. For another, it felt so good to be wanted. I haven't felt that in a long time, since Sam & I weren't able to have that really passionate intimacy for the last several months of her life.
We've agreed that we will cool off the physical interactions for the time being, since I'm still not in a place where I can offer an emotional attachment to go with the physical. I've never been this compartmentalized in my thinking. I was always that sappy sex-equals-love guy. This must be one of the self defense reactions that comes with the experience, being able to pick up a fragment and examine it without having it affect any of the other pieces. She, however, is not wired the same way, and I totally understand that she needs the emotional factor from me in order to proceed. But since I still can't give that (and she is well aware of that fact), we need to step back to the platonic side of the fence. And that's okay.
I feel we can do that. We're consenting adults who had a good time. Nobody cheated on anyone. Nobody did anything they didn't want to do. It felt totally natural and positive. And my respect for her is not diminished in the least. In fact, the converse is true. She is very kind and respectful of the path I walk. No matter what happens, I will always be grateful for what she has done for me in my healing process. I hope to maintain a close friendship, whatever that ends up looking like.
So... on with life.
The next two months are incredibly busy for me. I have meetings every day this week, including my producer on Duo. I have about 4 projects being juggled currently, although Ordinary Angels can be scratched off the list. Pending revisions, the script is done. November 4th, I have lunch with a friend of the family, a recent addition to the cancer widower club. November 11th would have been Sam's & my 21st relationship anniversary. November 12th marks 7 months since Sam died. The week of Thanksgiving, I'm taking the kids on a road trip to California to visit friends and family, and have T-day with Sam's folks. December is holiday madness all month long, and the first Christmas without Samantha in my life since 1983. I expect it'll be empty for the kids without their mom. I know it'll be empty without my dad.
Dreary Seattle fall day... thank goodness I have some M-Set to listen to.
Saturday, October 29, 2005
Sailboat Races
I had a dream about my dad last night.More specifically, it was a dream in which he was the central subject, however I never saw him. It seemed to be more about my stepmom, in all honesty. The basic setting was along the California coast, in Santa Cruz where I lived from ages 8 to 16. My dad was apparently sailing in a race from San Francisco to Santa Cruz, and was in radio communication with my stepmom, who I guess was in a chase boat with her brothers.
I kept getting calls from my stepmom on my cell phone, even though I could hear my dad's voice just fine over the radio... the radio I didn't have. But I could hear him. He was working hard for his team. He was giving me play-by-play commentary. Or rather, he was giving out the commentary and it was like I could hear it on a scanner. I couldn't radio back, couldn't communicate with him. But I could hear him fine.
I just kept climbing around the cliffs that overlooked the ocean, searching for signs of my dad's boat, which never came within visual range. At one point, my stepmom called me on the cell, telling me what was going on with Dad. I told her I knew because I could hear him on the radio, and she didn't need to use her cellular plan minutes to basically repeat what he was saying and doing. She said she'd been taking pictures of the race from the chase boat, and that Dad's boat was in the lead in the home stretch. Then I saw her chase boat - it came in extremely close to the cliffs, and she saw me and raised her camera to take my picture. In doing so, she almost lost her balance and toppled overboard, but was hauled back by one of her brothers.
The meaning seems pretty clear to me. I still feel connected to my dad even though he's not visible to me, and I feel like sometimes my stepmom gets distracted by focusing on what's going on with me, and forgets her own precarious state. At least, that's how I interpret it.
For some reason this post was harder to write than I thought it would be. A lot of the time I'm very preoccupied by the loss of Sam. Today, I really miss my father.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Grumble.
This sucks. It seems like all I've been doing is finding fault with corporate cogs and complaining about it. The Nokia thing was just the tip of the iceberg. Yesterday I sat in traffic for an hour and a half to go up to Northgate to the title company - supposedly for signing the paperwork on my refi. But the docs that came through were completely botched. I won't go into the details, but it was not the deal the mortgage officer and I had agreed on. To her credit, she copped to the error and had a new set of docs drawn up. The title company had to courier the docs to my home late yesterday, and are couriering (is that even a word?) them back today. However there were still other sins of omission, and the whole thing has left me drained and on edge - and cancelling part of the loan.
What is it about widowhood that has hardened me to the workaday drone culture and made me even less likely to suffer fools? I think I probably just answered my own question. I mean, Samantha and I were always gracious, even when confronted with overt incompetence, be it in a financial institution, service or bureaucracy. But now I feel like I want heads to roll. I paid more for a phone upgrade on PRINCIPLE than it would have cost to just replace the generic USB cable with the manufacturer brand. WTF?! Do I need to find fault and punish the faulty because of some wacky sense of vengeance or whatever? Am I so hypersensitive to the fact that I'm flying solo - that I no longer have Samantha watching my back - that I have to go on the offensive in order to avoid being taken advantage of? The loan officer at my mortgage company apologized profusely for the way this had run, and I didn't stop her once. I just let her grovel. And although I feel somewhat vindicated (and that there were legitimate problems with the process that I had the right to be angry about), it really doesn't change anything.
Except that now I feel like a complete dick.
In other news, Tyler's homeroom teacher dropped by to tell me how much of an improvement he's seeing. And Kayleigh surprised me by plucking out the first part of the guitar solo on Tapestry on her little electric guitar. I'm coninuously blown away by these kids - when they're not killing each other or conspiring against me with the dog, they're just about the coolest human beings on the planet.
Feeling slightly overwhelmed at the mo. House is a mess, despite how often I clean up. Gilda's group tonight. That'll be interesting. Guess I just need to hold on for the ride.
What is it about widowhood that has hardened me to the workaday drone culture and made me even less likely to suffer fools? I think I probably just answered my own question. I mean, Samantha and I were always gracious, even when confronted with overt incompetence, be it in a financial institution, service or bureaucracy. But now I feel like I want heads to roll. I paid more for a phone upgrade on PRINCIPLE than it would have cost to just replace the generic USB cable with the manufacturer brand. WTF?! Do I need to find fault and punish the faulty because of some wacky sense of vengeance or whatever? Am I so hypersensitive to the fact that I'm flying solo - that I no longer have Samantha watching my back - that I have to go on the offensive in order to avoid being taken advantage of? The loan officer at my mortgage company apologized profusely for the way this had run, and I didn't stop her once. I just let her grovel. And although I feel somewhat vindicated (and that there were legitimate problems with the process that I had the right to be angry about), it really doesn't change anything.Except that now I feel like a complete dick.
In other news, Tyler's homeroom teacher dropped by to tell me how much of an improvement he's seeing. And Kayleigh surprised me by plucking out the first part of the guitar solo on Tapestry on her little electric guitar. I'm coninuously blown away by these kids - when they're not killing each other or conspiring against me with the dog, they're just about the coolest human beings on the planet.
Feeling slightly overwhelmed at the mo. House is a mess, despite how often I clean up. Gilda's group tonight. That'll be interesting. Guess I just need to hold on for the ride.
Monday, October 24, 2005
New Kia, But No New Nokia...
So the new Nokia 6102 cell phone I got takes pictures. Neat. Except when trying to send them to my email address, the email comes through without the picture attached. So I get on the phone with Nokia customer service. "Hmmm, this is strange. We haven't had any complaints with this phone regarding picture transfer..." Yes, but this model has been out for like FIVE MINUTES, as everyone keeps telling me. "I can help you. Let me just... oh wait. We don't appear to have the manual for this phone in the call center yet. Did I mention it's a really new model?" So I get transferred to tech service, and a guy starts a trouble ticket for me, says the techs working on the issue will be calling me several times over the next couple days to resolve the problem.That was Wednesday. Nothin'. Crickets.
So I decide maybe I can circumvent the problem by direct dumping to my computer via USB cable. Unfortunately, I made the tragic error of buying a 3rd party cable for $25, thinking foolishly that it would do what it said it would do. Lo and behold, the cable worked fine. My box saw a USB device on the other end. But the Nokia PC software suite (which is supposed to install the drivers and whatnot), just sat there and glared at me because I wasn't using a freakin' NOKIA BRAND CABLE.
Or at least that's what the tech said when I again called Nokia customer service. But he was quite happy to sell me the $50 cable, which he could not guarantee would work better than the $25 generic cable.
So by this point, I've had it with Nokia's less-than-stellar service. The hardware itself is great - it's a really good phone. But do I want to deal with a manufacturer who is certainly hot to push out new products but has no support for them?? On principle, I return the $25 cable to Radio Shack, return the Nokia 6102 to my local Cingular store (where the same two guys always give us great service), and upgrade to a new Motorola V551 with Bluetooth.I just have to say this...
Hello, Moto.
The guy at the Cingular store very patiently puts his own SIM chip into my new phone so it will operate, while I send the pictures from my old phone to my new phone. I go to CompUSA and get a $30 USB Bluetooth adapter and install the Bluetooth software.
In less than 10 minutes of getting home, my phone and my computer are talking, and I copy the photos off the phone, and transfer a custom .mp3 ringtone to the phone. The ringtone is an a cappella snippet of Samantha's vocals from Devil's Lullaby.
So a big cupping of the crotch to Nokia's customer service, and kudos to Motorola, the guys at the Cingular store, and Bluetooth technology.
Next time, something of substance, I promise.
Saturday, October 22, 2005
Undead Undead Undead
Today's title comes from a lyric in the classic goth anthem "Bela Lugosi is Dead", by the proto-goth band Bauhaus. Formed in England in 1978, they released 4 albums and a bunch of singles, many of which charted in the UK and made them one of the most influential rock bands in recent history. They appeared in the Tony Scott vampire romance The Hunger (with David Bowie, Susan Sarandon & Catherine Deneuve), playing this trademark theme song in the nightclub opening. As is so often the case, the candle that burns brightest burns half as long, and the act broke up in 1983, the year before I got into them. I did have the fortune of seeing 3/4 of the band in their incarnation as Love & Rockets, once in 1986 opening for Siouxie & the Banshees, and once in 1987 with Jane's Addiction opening for them. But I was always kind of sorry I never had the chance to see the original Bauhaus do their thing onstage.Last night, I got that chance.
I will start by saying the show probably lacked the intensity of drug-fueled, frenetic early '80s goth wackiness (as evident in a 1982 concert video I have), however I personally found it far more satisfying that all four guys are much better musicians, play more tightly and rock HARDER now than they ever did previously. I kept forgetting that all these guys are pushing 50, and with the exception of vocalist Peter Murphy (who has never exactly presented the picture of health), none of them look like they've aged in 20 years.
The show kicked off with guitarist Daniel Ash striding onto the stage in big boots and a sleeveless leather trenchcoat, with his mirror-finish electric (one of his more famous Love & Rockets axes), cranking out the riffs to "Burning From the Inside", the title track to their final studio album. He was joined by Murphy, who growled out the words like they'd just been written. They were then joined by bassist David J. and drummer Kevin Haskins, two brothers who form one of the tightest rhythm sections in rock. The lights were VERY well done, combining pin spots, floating follow spots, red and white strobes and yes, even rotating gobos! The sound was LOUD, which is why I brought latex earplugs for my crew. With the plugs, the sound was good, and David's bass kept vibrating my ribcage. It tickled.
Murphy no longer swings from curtains and twirls like a demented pixie. But he's still rail thin and can strike those pensive poses with the best of them. Heck, aside from Bowie, this guy invented quite a few of those poses the youngsters use today. His thinning hair is now bleached blonde, and he sported a black 1930s classic look - slacks and a high cut jacket. Ash looks pretty buff - I guess living in LA has given him some biceps and a bit of a tan. J. still has the blonde bowl cut and shades, dressed in a black turtleneck and trousers with his ubiquitous fretless bass. Haskins was hard to see buried in his drum kit, but my field glasses revealed the same intense, almost eerie concentration in his intricate drumming.
I can't recall the exact order of the set list, but they did at least the following (forgive me if I've missed any): "Burning From the Inside", "God in an Alcove", "The Man With X-Ray Eyes", "In Fear of Fear" (which had Ash running around the stage abusing a saxophone), "Kick in the Eye", "Hair of the Dog", "Terror Couple Kill Colonel", "Hollow Hills", "Silent Hedges", "In the Flat Field", "Stigmata Martyr", "She's in Parties", "Rose Garden Funeral of Sores", "The Passion of Lovers", "Swing the Heartache", and "Dark Entries". For their first encore, they did "Slice of Life" and "Telegram Sam", and their final encore consisted of all 9+ minutes of "Bela Lugosi is Dead".My only disappointments were that they didn't do "Spirit", my favorite track of theirs, nor did they do their famous cover of David Bowie's "Ziggy Stardust". But I have to say I was satisfied with the range of material from across their four albums. And I was struck by, despite how minimalist their arrangements always were, how intricate their music turns out to be. And, if I can pretend to be Stephen Colbert for a moment, possessed of some serious "rockitude" (which is a combination of rocking and attitude).
The Paramount is an old 1920s movie palace, and I've had the good fortune to have seen Dead Can Dance and Cocteau Twins there. I went to the show with LA, Caleb and Miriah. LA had heard of Bauhaus previously, and schooled herself with a crash course via compilation CD and former goth friends. Caleb, 22, was born the year they split up, but has felt their influence in the alternative rock that he grew up with (he also has a healthy respect for antiquity, which is why I keep him around). Miriah, 18, is a rabid Bowie fan, and went into this pretty much blind, except for said compilation CD and some historical perspective from me. All four of us left happy. The audience was full of 30 and 40-something goths and former goths (art rockers, shoegazers, whatever), and you could tell they all had a relaxed vibe and sense of humor about their history. The T-shirt kiosk took credit cards, there was no opening act, the band went on at 8:10 and played for 2 hours. We were home by 10:30.
It was the perfect rock show for Creepy Old Guy and His Friends. I just wish Sam could have been there to see it with me.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Lost and Found
Been battling another headache. I'm not taking care of myself. It's the return of seasonal affective disorder (SAD), an all-too-common condition in the PacNW. No wonder we have such a thriving goth and fetish community in Seattle - it's dark outside and there's nothing to do.
I was going through some piles in the office and ran across a roll of photos I'd recently had developed. Among the pics was a shot one of the kids had snapped of Sam at the dining table on some lazy, grubby Saturday morning in about 2002, pre-diagnosis. At least that's my best guess. No date stamps on these. She's wearing her red paisley stretchpants and her black T-shirt that says INDIAN TERRITORY with a picture of the entire western hemisphere (a gift from our friend Mike S.). The ones where she's bald and looking like a renegade from a George Romero movie set don't bother me as much, because that's my most recent frame of reference. That's the battle. That's the reality of death-by-cancer. But the photos where she's healthy looking and happy make me sad, because her body is already sabotaging itself and she has no clue. Neither of us saw it coming. 35 year old women don't get the kind of cancer that shows up in 65 year old males.
Had a really good day yesterday. Found a jacket at Target (I own a half-dozen sweatshirts and a winter parka, but no jacket). Then I went down to the local family-owned computer shop and ordered my new business workstation, then took Kayleigh to dance class and walked across the street to the Cingular store, where I picked up a new cell phone for the business. Came home to find notification that the Triskelle CD had gone up for sale. Christmas in October! Sweet!
Today feels quite a bit more dominated by a sense of ennui. And the headache is probably caffeine withdrawal. See, I'm a terrible addict. I don't treat caffeine with any respect whatsoever. Some days I can have 2 mochas, some days a black tea, other days nothing at all. And I don't drink soda. It's so random I think my body works up an addiction and then throttles me when I blithely go a day or two without any. Gee, why do I have this nagging headache? Go figure. At least it's not the battle Caleb is fighting with nicotine. Go, C! You're freakin' Superman!
No group for me tonight. I just don't have the energy. Like pouring alcohol in an open wound, it'll disinfect the tissue and make healing easier in the long run, but it hurts like hell. Actually, it's much more like a good old fashioned Scottish wound-searing. 1) Remove arrow or other foreign object; 2) Drink a lot of whiskey; 3) Press red-hot iron into wound; 4) Scream like you've never screamed before, pound the douchebag who stuck you with a red-hot iron (preferably over the head with the bottle of scotch). There. Your wound is cauterized and can scar over with less chance of infection.
Now aren't you glad you read my blog today? It's so educational!
I was going through some piles in the office and ran across a roll of photos I'd recently had developed. Among the pics was a shot one of the kids had snapped of Sam at the dining table on some lazy, grubby Saturday morning in about 2002, pre-diagnosis. At least that's my best guess. No date stamps on these. She's wearing her red paisley stretchpants and her black T-shirt that says INDIAN TERRITORY with a picture of the entire western hemisphere (a gift from our friend Mike S.). The ones where she's bald and looking like a renegade from a George Romero movie set don't bother me as much, because that's my most recent frame of reference. That's the battle. That's the reality of death-by-cancer. But the photos where she's healthy looking and happy make me sad, because her body is already sabotaging itself and she has no clue. Neither of us saw it coming. 35 year old women don't get the kind of cancer that shows up in 65 year old males.Had a really good day yesterday. Found a jacket at Target (I own a half-dozen sweatshirts and a winter parka, but no jacket). Then I went down to the local family-owned computer shop and ordered my new business workstation, then took Kayleigh to dance class and walked across the street to the Cingular store, where I picked up a new cell phone for the business. Came home to find notification that the Triskelle CD had gone up for sale. Christmas in October! Sweet!
Today feels quite a bit more dominated by a sense of ennui. And the headache is probably caffeine withdrawal. See, I'm a terrible addict. I don't treat caffeine with any respect whatsoever. Some days I can have 2 mochas, some days a black tea, other days nothing at all. And I don't drink soda. It's so random I think my body works up an addiction and then throttles me when I blithely go a day or two without any. Gee, why do I have this nagging headache? Go figure. At least it's not the battle Caleb is fighting with nicotine. Go, C! You're freakin' Superman!
No group for me tonight. I just don't have the energy. Like pouring alcohol in an open wound, it'll disinfect the tissue and make healing easier in the long run, but it hurts like hell. Actually, it's much more like a good old fashioned Scottish wound-searing. 1) Remove arrow or other foreign object; 2) Drink a lot of whiskey; 3) Press red-hot iron into wound; 4) Scream like you've never screamed before, pound the douchebag who stuck you with a red-hot iron (preferably over the head with the bottle of scotch). There. Your wound is cauterized and can scar over with less chance of infection.
Now aren't you glad you read my blog today? It's so educational!
Monday, October 17, 2005
More Dreams
Actually had a dream with Sam in it this last weekend. Couldn't tell you what the context was - I was just happy to see her again. She appeared much younger in this one, about 21 or 22.
Woke up at 5AM again, closed my eyes for what seemed like an instant, and the clock had skipped ahead to 7AM and the CD was playing. Weird. I guess temporal/spatial anomalies are de rigeur for widdas.
On the way back from the chiro, I thought I'd do a nice deed and grab some coffee for my neighbor Darlene, who often watches my kids when I need to be somewhere. So I dropped it off (to her utter surprise), and went back to my car. The moment I put it into gear, the carry-tray from Starbucks I'd placed on the passenger floor for stability upended, soaking the floormat in caramel mocha. I guess the new rig has been christened. I knew I couldn't keep it pristine forever. And, hey, it's almost been a whole month! Sheesh.
Aaaaanyway, not much to report for now. It's a nose-to-the-grindstone kind of week. Did some dishes and laundry, got some more work done on Ordinary Angels. I'll probably post once or twice this week, and Friday night is Bauhaus at the Paramount! Thanks Randy!!
Woke up at 5AM again, closed my eyes for what seemed like an instant, and the clock had skipped ahead to 7AM and the CD was playing. Weird. I guess temporal/spatial anomalies are de rigeur for widdas.
On the way back from the chiro, I thought I'd do a nice deed and grab some coffee for my neighbor Darlene, who often watches my kids when I need to be somewhere. So I dropped it off (to her utter surprise), and went back to my car. The moment I put it into gear, the carry-tray from Starbucks I'd placed on the passenger floor for stability upended, soaking the floormat in caramel mocha. I guess the new rig has been christened. I knew I couldn't keep it pristine forever. And, hey, it's almost been a whole month! Sheesh.
Aaaaanyway, not much to report for now. It's a nose-to-the-grindstone kind of week. Did some dishes and laundry, got some more work done on Ordinary Angels. I'll probably post once or twice this week, and Friday night is Bauhaus at the Paramount! Thanks Randy!!
Thursday, October 13, 2005
She Runs Away
You may not see the end of it
But luckily she comes around
It isn't what she talks about
It's just the way she is
(...and she says)
"Ooh darlin' don't you know
The darkness comes and the darkness goes"
(she says)
"Ooh babe why don't you let it go?
Happiness aint never how you think it should be so"
I mystified the simple life
I covered up with consciousness
I saw myself and broke it down
'Til nothing more was left
She saw the symptoms right away
And spoke to me in poetry
"Sometimes the more you wonder why
The worse it seems to get"
(...and she says)
"Ooh darlin' don't you know
The darkness comes and the darkness goes"
(she says)
"Ooh babe why don't you let it go?
Happiness aint never how you think it should be so"
She runs away
She runs away...
And then you know there comes a time
You need her more than anything
You may believe yours are the wounds
That only she can heal
Then everything will turn around
And she becomes so serious
What she chose to offer you
Was all that you could have
(...and she says)
"Ooh darlin' don't you know
The darkness comes and the darkness goes"
(she says)
"Ooh babe why don't you let it go?
Happiness aint never how you think it should be so"
She runs away
- Duncan Sheik
Had my quaintly-termed "alumni" group last night. Brought the laptop and showed the 4-minute LifeAbridged movie with my music to the group. Cried more in that group than I ever have in public... EVER. Marking an anniversary of death (at least for me) makes you go back and experience those last few hours all over again - and that is not time I necessarily ever want to relive. Don't get me wrong - it was an honor that Sam chose me to share her life and her death. Given the circumstances, I can't say I'd change anything. It was an honor to walk her to the threshold of whatever happens next. And I acknowledge the incredible gift that gave me: perspective. Because all that mundane crap the majority of people seem to think is so important means nothing. Nothing life throws at me from this moment on can intimidate or scare me - I held my wife as she took her last breath, and a month later hugged my father goodbye for the last time. And at the risk of sounding like a raving egomaniac, since I'm still breathing and raising two children on my own, I guess that makes me a fucking titan.
Lots of anger being shared in the group last night. We all have the common quality of having been caregivers for a terminally ill person. A person that would never be able to show any kind of gratitude or reciprocate for all that we did. Selfishly, I thought Sam would pull through, and that she would be there to take care of me when my health failed. I mean let's face it - we ALL will fail at some point. And the lucky ones will have family and close friends who will go to the wall for them. The luckier ones will have a spouse or partner who knows their soul, and who would stay and do whatever needed to be done no matter how incapacitated they became, or how many times they had to change the bedding and wipe up their shit.
I have no doubt that when my time comes, I will have the friendships I've worked hard to foster throughout my life - I will have friends at my side. And I'm pretty sure my kids won't leave me in a ditch somewhere. But I really wanted that insurance, that trump card, that bastion of strength that only a soulmate, a life-partner... a wife... can provide.
In other news, my dog Wiley is the only dog I've ever met who can do a Chevy Chase pratfall while cleaning himself. What the hell, dog? It's not like you aren't already sitting on the damn floor. Ah well. He's comic relief. Which is good, because I tend to brood and listen to depressing, angsty music throughout the majority of the day, and a little random mirth keeps me from carving my wrists up with an X-acto knife.
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Six Months
Six Months ago today, at 5AM, Samantha passed away. I'd never been present at the death of a human being before that moment, so I have little basis for comparison, but I guess it was peaceful, as death goes. Well, no. No it really wasn't. For three hours her body clung onto life. Her lungs strained to take in breath. Her heart beat strongly. This was a young woman who did not want to die, and who had no business dying at this stage in her life. I've written previously about what I saw as the travesty of a human body shutting down piecemeal like that. One infected organ is all it takes to start a chain reaction. And in her case, the liver was key. Had the liver survived, it would not have poisoned the brain with toxic ammonia levels, which then would not have shut down her other systems.
And all that is very technical and clinical and doesn't change the fact that for three hours I sat by her side and watched helplessly as her body killed itself. I think that was the true horror - not being able to do anything. I considered several times calling 911 and getting her hospital care. But then I remembered how the surgery to remove her infected port had really sapped what little strength she had left. The two considerations that kept me from dialing those three numbers were:
1) Sam's oncologist had thrown in the towel. He had remained hopeful up until the last couple months, but then he'd been very realistic and told us in no uncertain terms that she wasn't going to last long, and that no amount of care in a hospital was going to change that.
2) At one point about a week prior to her passing, I'd told Sam, "any time you want to go to the hospital, you just let me know." To which she gave a look as if to say what are you, crazy? and replied, "Heck no. You're giving me the best care I've ever had."
For the month or so after she died, I wondered if I'd done the right thing. Then my dad died in the hospital, with every intervention under the sun - something he said he didn't want - and I knew I'd spared Samantha that final indignity. I guess that should be of some consolation. I did give her comfort, love, dignity and a hand to hold all the way to the door. And I did my best to give my dad the same.
Was down all evening yesterday with a migrane. Never got them until my mid to late 20s, and only 3 times or so a year. After Sam was diagnosed, I could count on one showing up at least once a month (and maybe staying for two or three days). One was so severe Sam took me to the ER where they gave me a shot of Imitrex that made my head feel like it had transformed into a Hawaiian volcano god. Then I read that the drug had been implicated in cases of heart failure and declined to fill the prescription. Exploding heart, not so much, thanks. I kept them in check with a combination of diet, exercise, chiropractic, massage and Excedrin. They declined in frequency and severity after Sam passed away, but still manage to sneak up on me if I don't keep up with the first 4 deterrents. Seems to be better today.
Woke up at 4AM to Wiley whuffing and whining in the spot where Sam's hospice bed had been (which is directly over my bed downstairs). Put on the headphones and brought up the mp3 random playlist on the laptop (which I generally keep next to the bed).
First song, And Tears Fell - Devil's Lullaby (one of our songs currently undergoing re-recording for the tribute CD).
Next song, Echo & The Bunnymen - The Killing Moon.
Next song, Brendan Perry - The Captive Heart
Next song, Sarah Shannon - I'll Run Away
Next song, And Tears Fell - Fire Inside (another of the works in progress)
Okay honey. Thanks for checking in. I love you.
And all that is very technical and clinical and doesn't change the fact that for three hours I sat by her side and watched helplessly as her body killed itself. I think that was the true horror - not being able to do anything. I considered several times calling 911 and getting her hospital care. But then I remembered how the surgery to remove her infected port had really sapped what little strength she had left. The two considerations that kept me from dialing those three numbers were:
1) Sam's oncologist had thrown in the towel. He had remained hopeful up until the last couple months, but then he'd been very realistic and told us in no uncertain terms that she wasn't going to last long, and that no amount of care in a hospital was going to change that.
2) At one point about a week prior to her passing, I'd told Sam, "any time you want to go to the hospital, you just let me know." To which she gave a look as if to say what are you, crazy? and replied, "Heck no. You're giving me the best care I've ever had."
For the month or so after she died, I wondered if I'd done the right thing. Then my dad died in the hospital, with every intervention under the sun - something he said he didn't want - and I knew I'd spared Samantha that final indignity. I guess that should be of some consolation. I did give her comfort, love, dignity and a hand to hold all the way to the door. And I did my best to give my dad the same.
Was down all evening yesterday with a migrane. Never got them until my mid to late 20s, and only 3 times or so a year. After Sam was diagnosed, I could count on one showing up at least once a month (and maybe staying for two or three days). One was so severe Sam took me to the ER where they gave me a shot of Imitrex that made my head feel like it had transformed into a Hawaiian volcano god. Then I read that the drug had been implicated in cases of heart failure and declined to fill the prescription. Exploding heart, not so much, thanks. I kept them in check with a combination of diet, exercise, chiropractic, massage and Excedrin. They declined in frequency and severity after Sam passed away, but still manage to sneak up on me if I don't keep up with the first 4 deterrents. Seems to be better today.
Woke up at 4AM to Wiley whuffing and whining in the spot where Sam's hospice bed had been (which is directly over my bed downstairs). Put on the headphones and brought up the mp3 random playlist on the laptop (which I generally keep next to the bed).
First song, And Tears Fell - Devil's Lullaby (one of our songs currently undergoing re-recording for the tribute CD).
And should you fall,
One winter's day
The angels and devils
Around us surround us
And take your soul away
Next song, Echo & The Bunnymen - The Killing Moon.
In starlit nights I saw you
So cruelly you kissed me
Your lips a magic world
Your sky all hung with jewels
The killing moon
Will come too soon
Next song, Brendan Perry - The Captive Heart
But then if I close my eyes
I can see you standing there
Your face in permanence smiles
Your lips a chalice
Seems like I've loved you all my life
Never thought I'd find you
One day the muse may lend these words wings
So I can touch you
Next song, Sarah Shannon - I'll Run Away
Two thousand miles and a day since I left my home
I watch the sun leave the sky as I sit here alone
Nothing to do - I don't care, I don't care, I don't care
Just watching beautiful time pass by without you there
Next song, And Tears Fell - Fire Inside (another of the works in progress)
I never thought you'd run away like that
I always thought we'd be together
I never dreamed that it could hurt so much
I always thought I'd take it better
Okay honey. Thanks for checking in. I love you.
Monday, October 10, 2005
Dawn of the Slacker
Well I woke up this morning... (blues riff here)
That's it, really. Jeez, such a clever opening and... nuthin'. What a rip off!
Came upstairs to find everything tinted the color of orange sherbet. Still a bit groggy, of course - could be my eyes going wonky after years of sitting too close to the television and 8 years in the videogame industry, staring at color pallettes on a CRT monitor. Let Wiley out of his kennel and took him to the back door to let him out for his morning business. Opened the door to the most beautiful sunrise EVAR. Beautiful pink and orange clouds strewn across a light blue sky, sun just coming up, front-lighting the autumn trees. It was like a freakin' Bob Ross painting ("Here's a happy little cloud right here...").
It occurs to me I haven't posted in over a week, but it's not due to disinterest, just to a generally busy state of being. Been working on Arrowflight 2nd Edition, the Ordinary Angels screenplay, and finishing up some music.
On that front, the master for Impetus - Triskelle just went out, due to some last minute tweaking and the addition of the final track. The piece just poured out of me one afternoon as I was writing the very sparse dialogue in a scene from Ordinary Angels where a terminally ill woman is dying in her husband's arms and Cadmiel, one of the angel characters, leans in to whisper in the woman's ear, which begins the active dying process. As you can imagine, it's kind of a strong scene, and very close to home. But this beautiful acoustic guitar riff came to me and I assembled the track in about 3 hours. Called it Whispered the Angel, and knew it had to go on Triskelle. The following morning, I put it behind a 4-minute montage of photos and video clips from Sam's life. Easier to send friends in a chat window than a 30-minute DVD. And even a bit more powerful - the fact that it's Samantha's life condensed into 4 minutes.
Went to lunch again with LA, had a good time, showed her both Sam's and my dad's memorial DVDs. What a trooper. Took my folks to the airport - they're having a great time visiting old friends in England, going to Paris for a bit too.
This last Saturday I took Muriel over to Brian Chase's studio to meet him and get her comfortable in the studio setting. She's singing several of the songs that are going on the And Tears Fell tribute CD. The simple introduction turned into her actually singing some placeholder vocals on two songs, which now allows Brian and I (and other musicians) to layer in more instrumentation. All the time I was sitting there listening to Muriel's amazing voice and wondering "does Sam approve of this?", because while Muriel has a really great voice, it's so very much NOT Sam, and our sound was really defined to a great extent by Sam's voice.
But I remembered this is a tribute to Sam, not us trying to re-create her vocal style. Muriel had known Sam since she was 14 and Sam was 30. They had a big sister/little sister thing going on. This is done with the best of loving intent, and yes, Sam would approve. Besides, my guitar work is better now than it was back in the day, and we're no longer restricted to lo-fi analog recording equipment and limiting media like TAPE. Muriel's vocals sound like an unholy crossbreeding of Natalie Merchant and Johnette Napolitano - really haunting. I guess to compare, Sam's voice had more of a classical-to-pop quality, and Muriel's is more jazzy/bluesy.
It's all good.
Sunday we drove the new rig up to Bellingham for a nice afternoon visit with my grandparents. I'm very lucky to have my mom's folks still here, sharp as tacks and in possession of their own teeth. My grandfather turns 89 next month. There's a ton of family history being written down now, thank heavens.
Came home, threw together dinner, and riffed on some CD cover art for the And Tears Fell project. Settled on the idea of featuring a rose photo that Samantha took on Vancouver Island in 1986 when we drove up to the World Expo. The rest is about a dozen layers of texture to create a kind of 23 Envelope vibe. I was a big fan of their album cover design work for 4AD Records; it was a big inspiration for Samantha & I in our music.
So that's where it sits now. Tune in again later. Same Bat-time, same Bat-channel!
That's it, really. Jeez, such a clever opening and... nuthin'. What a rip off!
Came upstairs to find everything tinted the color of orange sherbet. Still a bit groggy, of course - could be my eyes going wonky after years of sitting too close to the television and 8 years in the videogame industry, staring at color pallettes on a CRT monitor. Let Wiley out of his kennel and took him to the back door to let him out for his morning business. Opened the door to the most beautiful sunrise EVAR. Beautiful pink and orange clouds strewn across a light blue sky, sun just coming up, front-lighting the autumn trees. It was like a freakin' Bob Ross painting ("Here's a happy little cloud right here...").
It occurs to me I haven't posted in over a week, but it's not due to disinterest, just to a generally busy state of being. Been working on Arrowflight 2nd Edition, the Ordinary Angels screenplay, and finishing up some music.
On that front, the master for Impetus - Triskelle just went out, due to some last minute tweaking and the addition of the final track. The piece just poured out of me one afternoon as I was writing the very sparse dialogue in a scene from Ordinary Angels where a terminally ill woman is dying in her husband's arms and Cadmiel, one of the angel characters, leans in to whisper in the woman's ear, which begins the active dying process. As you can imagine, it's kind of a strong scene, and very close to home. But this beautiful acoustic guitar riff came to me and I assembled the track in about 3 hours. Called it Whispered the Angel, and knew it had to go on Triskelle. The following morning, I put it behind a 4-minute montage of photos and video clips from Sam's life. Easier to send friends in a chat window than a 30-minute DVD. And even a bit more powerful - the fact that it's Samantha's life condensed into 4 minutes.
Went to lunch again with LA, had a good time, showed her both Sam's and my dad's memorial DVDs. What a trooper. Took my folks to the airport - they're having a great time visiting old friends in England, going to Paris for a bit too.
This last Saturday I took Muriel over to Brian Chase's studio to meet him and get her comfortable in the studio setting. She's singing several of the songs that are going on the And Tears Fell tribute CD. The simple introduction turned into her actually singing some placeholder vocals on two songs, which now allows Brian and I (and other musicians) to layer in more instrumentation. All the time I was sitting there listening to Muriel's amazing voice and wondering "does Sam approve of this?", because while Muriel has a really great voice, it's so very much NOT Sam, and our sound was really defined to a great extent by Sam's voice.
But I remembered this is a tribute to Sam, not us trying to re-create her vocal style. Muriel had known Sam since she was 14 and Sam was 30. They had a big sister/little sister thing going on. This is done with the best of loving intent, and yes, Sam would approve. Besides, my guitar work is better now than it was back in the day, and we're no longer restricted to lo-fi analog recording equipment and limiting media like TAPE. Muriel's vocals sound like an unholy crossbreeding of Natalie Merchant and Johnette Napolitano - really haunting. I guess to compare, Sam's voice had more of a classical-to-pop quality, and Muriel's is more jazzy/bluesy.
It's all good.
Sunday we drove the new rig up to Bellingham for a nice afternoon visit with my grandparents. I'm very lucky to have my mom's folks still here, sharp as tacks and in possession of their own teeth. My grandfather turns 89 next month. There's a ton of family history being written down now, thank heavens.
Came home, threw together dinner, and riffed on some CD cover art for the And Tears Fell project. Settled on the idea of featuring a rose photo that Samantha took on Vancouver Island in 1986 when we drove up to the World Expo. The rest is about a dozen layers of texture to create a kind of 23 Envelope vibe. I was a big fan of their album cover design work for 4AD Records; it was a big inspiration for Samantha & I in our music.So that's where it sits now. Tune in again later. Same Bat-time, same Bat-channel!
Saturday, October 01, 2005
Just Keeps Going... And Going...
So this week has been a nonstop orgy of schedules, milestones and activities. It's a biggie, but bear with me...
Tuesday - Took Kayleigh to get ballet slippers and tap shoes, then to dance class. Not a huge deal. Got me primed for each day getting a bit more busy.
Wednesday - Took the kids to school, picked up my brother and headed to Shoreline to shop cars. See, my late grandfather's estate dropped a sudden, one-time-only gift in the laps of each of my dad's children, thanks to my aunt, uncle and grandmother. It couldn't have come at a better time. The '92 Sable was about to become one of those "old car money pits", especially since the radiator cracked back in '03 and leaked coolant into the engine. Since then I've been getting crappy mileage and crappy performance, despite our local greasemonkeys doing everything mechanically possible (short of replacing the engine). Sam's Taurus wagon blew the tranny on the trip down to Oregon, and was basically hauled away for parts.
So here I am, a single father of two with a limited income and a failing car, no way to afford payments on even a crappy used car (which would be no better a solution than sinking money into the Sable). Yet here was this magical means of buying a new, reliable car with a full warranty for cash. It felt like Grandpa Ken came back to Earth to help me out this one last time.
After much research and a lot of test driving, I settled on the Kia Sportage - you know, the commercial with each person driving it somewhere and then throwing the keys to the next person. It's the overhauled new design built on the Hyundai Tucson/Elantra chassis. Not so much a small SUV as a sport wagon. Thing is shorter than a sedan, yet has amazing space inside, like a Dr. Who TARDIS. 4-cylinder 5-speed stick, good horsepower for the size of the engine, ABS, traction/stability control, front, side and curtain airbags all standard. Excellent passenger/cargo space, and 21-28 mpg (way better than the Sable, which is a really good thing as gas prices keep climbing). Has the Hyundai warranty too: 10yrs/100,000mi powertrain, 5yr bumper-to-bumper, 5yr roadside assistance and 6yr corrosion (a nice feature in Seattle). Got a great deal and excellent treatment from Chuck Olson Chevrolet/Kia in Shoreline (plug plug). Did the deal, but the exact rig I wanted was on a lot in Oregon and had to be brought up. 37 years old, and just bought my first new car. Go me.
Went to my Gilda's group that night. Met a woman who was roughly my age, had been high school/college sweethearts with her husband, lost him to the same cancer Samantha had, over a similar course of treatment. Has a 4yo girl. Brought back a ton of stuff for me, emotionally. Go figure.
Thursday - 15th wedding anniversary. The tormented blog entries are below. It was a rough day from the get-go. Could not stop crying... and it wasn't the break-down-sobbing kind... more like a constant stomach ache and saline drip leaking from the eyes. Decided I'd put it off long enough and went out to get inked that evening. Well, I tried anyway. When I got out to my car, I discovered my left front tire was flat, and the tire shop around the corner was closed. Message received - take a friend. So I called Caleb for a ride and he took me to Admiral Tattoo (plug plug), where a very friendly veteran artist proceeded to transfer the winged heart that was Samantha's symbol to my right calf. Yes, it hurt. And something about the physical pain became a catharsis for all the emotional agony I'd been feeling that day (and for the last 5 - 1/2 months). It was another milestone. When it was over, Caleb & I went around the corner to the Admiral Pub and shared a pitcher of Mack & Jack's Ale. And when I say we shared the pitcher, I mean Caleb had a glass, and I had the rest. In about 15 minutes. So needless to say, my leg didn't hurt too much. Put the kids to bed and crashed hard.
Friday - Kayleigh's 8th birthday. Up at 5:30AM, made breakfast. Got the kids up and moving, then drove around the corner on the Sable's alloy rim to get the tire replaced. They hooked me up and I was off - to the store to get cupcakes for Kayleigh's class celebration. Took the kids to school for the last time in the Sable. Forgot to go to the chiropractor. Met up with Erik and Caleb and went to check out Serenity. LOVED it, but then I loved the short-lived Firefly TV series upon which the film is based. Got home and cleaned for half an hour. Kids got home, piled them into the car and picked up my brother. Headed up to Shoreline to pick up the new rig. Bye bye Sable, hello Sportage (which Caleb has decreed we must pronounce with a French accent, i.e. spor-taaj, so we can drive the Spor-taaj to Tar-jaay). Got down to the Northgate Red Robin for a birthday dinner with my stepmom and our whole car load. Of course, being a Friday night, it was completely mad in there. We just managed to finish, drop my brother at home and get back to the house before the guys got there for our weekly game night. Put the kids down around 10PM, the guys left about midnight, I finally got to bed at 1:AM... Long day.
Today was actually a holiday in comparison! Got Tyler to Aikido, then grabbed some lunch with the kids. My stepmom picked up Kayleigh this afternoon for a dinner-and-ballet outing, just the two of them. Tyler and I took the Spor-taaj to Tar-jaay and got prezzies for Kayleigh's party tomorrow... when I get to host a Chuck E. Cheese birthday party with 5 eight-year-old girls and a bored boy of 11.
I am a leaf on the wind.
Tuesday - Took Kayleigh to get ballet slippers and tap shoes, then to dance class. Not a huge deal. Got me primed for each day getting a bit more busy.
Wednesday - Took the kids to school, picked up my brother and headed to Shoreline to shop cars. See, my late grandfather's estate dropped a sudden, one-time-only gift in the laps of each of my dad's children, thanks to my aunt, uncle and grandmother. It couldn't have come at a better time. The '92 Sable was about to become one of those "old car money pits", especially since the radiator cracked back in '03 and leaked coolant into the engine. Since then I've been getting crappy mileage and crappy performance, despite our local greasemonkeys doing everything mechanically possible (short of replacing the engine). Sam's Taurus wagon blew the tranny on the trip down to Oregon, and was basically hauled away for parts.
So here I am, a single father of two with a limited income and a failing car, no way to afford payments on even a crappy used car (which would be no better a solution than sinking money into the Sable). Yet here was this magical means of buying a new, reliable car with a full warranty for cash. It felt like Grandpa Ken came back to Earth to help me out this one last time.
After much research and a lot of test driving, I settled on the Kia Sportage - you know, the commercial with each person driving it somewhere and then throwing the keys to the next person. It's the overhauled new design built on the Hyundai Tucson/Elantra chassis. Not so much a small SUV as a sport wagon. Thing is shorter than a sedan, yet has amazing space inside, like a Dr. Who TARDIS. 4-cylinder 5-speed stick, good horsepower for the size of the engine, ABS, traction/stability control, front, side and curtain airbags all standard. Excellent passenger/cargo space, and 21-28 mpg (way better than the Sable, which is a really good thing as gas prices keep climbing). Has the Hyundai warranty too: 10yrs/100,000mi powertrain, 5yr bumper-to-bumper, 5yr roadside assistance and 6yr corrosion (a nice feature in Seattle). Got a great deal and excellent treatment from Chuck Olson Chevrolet/Kia in Shoreline (plug plug). Did the deal, but the exact rig I wanted was on a lot in Oregon and had to be brought up. 37 years old, and just bought my first new car. Go me.
Went to my Gilda's group that night. Met a woman who was roughly my age, had been high school/college sweethearts with her husband, lost him to the same cancer Samantha had, over a similar course of treatment. Has a 4yo girl. Brought back a ton of stuff for me, emotionally. Go figure.
Thursday - 15th wedding anniversary. The tormented blog entries are below. It was a rough day from the get-go. Could not stop crying... and it wasn't the break-down-sobbing kind... more like a constant stomach ache and saline drip leaking from the eyes. Decided I'd put it off long enough and went out to get inked that evening. Well, I tried anyway. When I got out to my car, I discovered my left front tire was flat, and the tire shop around the corner was closed. Message received - take a friend. So I called Caleb for a ride and he took me to Admiral Tattoo (plug plug), where a very friendly veteran artist proceeded to transfer the winged heart that was Samantha's symbol to my right calf. Yes, it hurt. And something about the physical pain became a catharsis for all the emotional agony I'd been feeling that day (and for the last 5 - 1/2 months). It was another milestone. When it was over, Caleb & I went around the corner to the Admiral Pub and shared a pitcher of Mack & Jack's Ale. And when I say we shared the pitcher, I mean Caleb had a glass, and I had the rest. In about 15 minutes. So needless to say, my leg didn't hurt too much. Put the kids to bed and crashed hard.Friday - Kayleigh's 8th birthday. Up at 5:30AM, made breakfast. Got the kids up and moving, then drove around the corner on the Sable's alloy rim to get the tire replaced. They hooked me up and I was off - to the store to get cupcakes for Kayleigh's class celebration. Took the kids to school for the last time in the Sable. Forgot to go to the chiropractor. Met up with Erik and Caleb and went to check out Serenity. LOVED it, but then I loved the short-lived Firefly TV series upon which the film is based. Got home and cleaned for half an hour. Kids got home, piled them into the car and picked up my brother. Headed up to Shoreline to pick up the new rig. Bye bye Sable, hello Sportage (which Caleb has decreed we must pronounce with a French accent, i.e. spor-taaj, so we can drive the Spor-taaj to Tar-jaay). Got down to the Northgate Red Robin for a birthday dinner with my stepmom and our whole car load. Of course, being a Friday night, it was completely mad in there. We just managed to finish, drop my brother at home and get back to the house before the guys got there for our weekly game night. Put the kids down around 10PM, the guys left about midnight, I finally got to bed at 1:AM... Long day.
Today was actually a holiday in comparison! Got Tyler to Aikido, then grabbed some lunch with the kids. My stepmom picked up Kayleigh this afternoon for a dinner-and-ballet outing, just the two of them. Tyler and I took the Spor-taaj to Tar-jaay and got prezzies for Kayleigh's party tomorrow... when I get to host a Chuck E. Cheese birthday party with 5 eight-year-old girls and a bored boy of 11.
I am a leaf on the wind.
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