I think I can make this a story soon

Bucket list... such an impersonal term for things that mean so much, things you want to accomplish once in your life before you die. Throw it on the bucket list. Bucket. Trashcan. Paint. Glue. Toilet. I wish I could think of a more poignant term. Maybe... dream list or get er done list... but what do I know? Schindler's list sounds better than bucket list.

Life is just so unfair. Sometimes I just want to flush it down the bucket list. Anyway, I am very happy to be transcribing my old journals that I have not seen in years and I am backing them up with Word too but in this digital age you never know when you will lose something so I refuse to throw out hard copies. Not that its important stuff but everything here is for my kids, after I'm dead, they will at least have an idea of where they came from and who there dad really was.

As far as editing as I go, not much. I don't edit the ideas or thoughts but just the bad language and wording of an inexperienced 16 year old and even that's not much. Very minimum editing and I only take out obvious over the top writing mistakes. I preserve the original idea or perception so that if a sentence reads: It was a beautiful wonderful fabulous morning full of promise and hope, the edit would read, it was a wonderful morning full of promise.

I've come to understand through reading these old journals too how important 7th, 8th and 9th grades are in one's development. They are the years that will make you who you are as an adult. They are very troubling confusing times and we are at risk of making wrong decisions. When you're in 8th grade we have to learn how to make a decision. In 9th grade we have to learn to make the right decision. I moved to Randolph in between 7th and 8th grade. I went from an environment of popularity to an environment of a nobody, at a critical stage in my development and unfortunately I made a ton of wrong decisions that may have kept me from becoming what I wanted to be. I will never know that. I will be a hawk when my kids get to 7th grade and at least they will not be set up for any failure as much as I can control it.

So schools are trying to get rid of cursive writing. Christopher's homework asked the question: is the study and learning of cursive writing important. Is it dad? I said of course. Some day you might find an old journal or artifact with some significance, written in cursive. And duh ... you either know how to read and interpret it or you scratch your head, turn the page and go on the internet. Technology's aim is to make those involved rich and everyone else stupid as jelly.

post facebook

Someone was asking me if I was going back on Facebook. No, I said without hesitation. There is nothing for me on Facebook anymore and no one. It's a different animal all together since I first went on in 2009. Maybe I will write a short story through the eyes of a Facebook character as they navigate through Facebook world, sadly ignoring their own lives. Besides I get a kick out of watching people: all around me, it seems, every photo they take, every thought or feeling they have is created, edited or specifically made for Facebook. It's no longer a life with free thoughts and actions. Once upon a time you took pictures and stashed them away in little photo books. Once upon a time, people kept their thoughts to themselves or wrote them in journals. Then Facebook came along and changed the very nature of how we express ourselves. Now pictures and thoughts are seemingly done for a Facebook post, comment or Like. Having a Facebook account is almost like a prison sentence. I made my jailbreak and am a happier man for it.

I see most social media as a form of disease for many people and it's too bad. Facebook especially since I was on there exclusively from 2009- 2014 and can attest to it. All I can say to those who still ride the pine with it, come on and wake up. Get a real friend or a hobby. Get back in touch with who you once were before this media invasion. I do feel bad for you. Something keeps you there. Addiction. Loneliness. Ego. The depiction of your life as a fountain of youth. You like the rah rah responses to your comments about society. You are a brilliant commentator they tell you. Whatever it is, it's not real. But hey, you all like it so what do I know anyway? Oh while you're at it people, why don't you post one less selfie because honestly, you're not that good looking; and to you, how about posting a new pic once in a while as opposed to those two to three year old photos you looked so thin in and to you, how about one less pic of your child or your dog because the ugly truth is, you're hiding something.

I think by the time I'm done transcribing my journals I just may have a memoir. Well, I guess I'll just see where all this leads me. Not that it would be anything of interest to anyone outside my boys.

So I'm cruising around with Christopher and Mathew, doing errands or whatever and I'm listening to the new U2 song, The Miracle. The kids are humming and singing along with it and Mathew says, " I really like this song because it says 'I'm young, not dumb.'"

Softball Sunday

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sf6-e-vWgfw&list=UUPY19uNjg3_ajzHXxCvNs8Q



Well this could have been any summer day in 1994. My mom and dad, just before my mom's health started to deteriorate (the first sign of things to come was her labored breathing, in fact you can hear it while she films), they used to take young Kyle everywhere-- to the beach, Maine, New Hampshire and to the playground; any park really even down to the ball field once in a while where we had our "softball Sunday."

We had been playing softball with friends and family on Sundays since high school, those games highlighted by our monster clash games "jocks vs hicks" back in 1986 and 1987. From 1988 until about 1992, we had a steady but small group of players. "Softball Sunday" really gained momentum in 1993 and by 1994 we had so many players sometimes we either had to make four teams or it literally looked like we were selling tickets to customers to watch us play. This video shows a typical Sunday in 1994. Myself at shortstop, shirtless in the June heat. Jim Hyland. Kevin Trull. Johnny Mofford. My brother, Dave. Andy Cizmar. Rod "Hollywood" Roosa. Paul Emerson. Paul Mallet. Christine O'Meara. Those are just some in the video as my mom sweeps through the field with camera. Honestly the "softball Sunday" games were as much a social gathering as they were a sporting event. Kids drank their beers or smoked their weed. You would often see Rich or Brams in the outfield with a coosy and a beer at their feet. Myself, I never drank during the games. Alcohol, sun and activity combined gave me headaches so I just simply enjoyed the sport and played my hardest-- often diving and sliding and jumping as if I were still on Varsity baseball team. Many of the former jocks played like me. Once a jock, always a jock. Anyway, girlfriends came out to watch, some had kids and young parents would make a day of it. The meet-up time was generally 11 am and by 11:30 teams were divided up. People came and went all day, some to play an inning or two, some just to stop by, chat and say hi. By 4 o'clock the games would end and people drifted off back to their homes or to the bar to continue drinking. I think 1995 was the last full summer of "softball Sunday". By 1996 people were moving, getting married or starting families. No one seemed to have the time anymore. People were getting older and could no longer deal with morning hangovers. Some guys took up golf. I guess it was... just time. Change was in the air. A new chapter where softball and gatherings was no longer the focal point of Sundays. By 1996, I know longer cared just about the moment. I realized I had to do something. I went back to Umass and enlisted in the writing program. I started to learn the HVAC trade to better myself for the future. I met my future wife in 1996. I guess 1995 was the last hurrah, the end of an era.

In the spring of 2013, I tried to bring to life "Softball Sunday" once again. I remember driving around Randolph in the spring looking at fields. Many of our old fields had fallen to ruin. I called my friends, old and new. I was on Facebook at the time and people were excited about it. Based on what I heard from Facebook friends, there were going to be like 50 people showing up. People who were never even associated with our "Softball Sunday" were spreading the word. I was actually fearful that so many people would turn up that no game would actually be played, that it would be one big Facebook party. In the end, only a handful of people showed up, mostly my friends. We recruited three teenagers who were playing catch nearby. It was a cold but good day. You could see how the last 17 years may have caught up to some of us. I thought it was a good building block to one more "softball Sunday" run. The following Sunday, I alone showed up and waited an hour, begrudging the death of softball Sunday.

Letters through the Years (in progress)

October 3, 1978

Dear Grammy and Papa,
I’m glad that I’ve went to school again are teacher tells jokes all of the time. At recess we play kickball all the time. I have 46 home runs and 28 Grand slams. In hockey I’m on the squirt traveling team. I am number 14. We have a game Friday and Sunday and a practice on Thursday and Saturday. It’s starting to get so cold that I’m going to start whereing mittens and hats and also it’s almost Halloween. I don’t have much things to say
From Jimmy
I love you
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
Ps. We just got another TV and it’s in our room. Pretty soon we’ll be using the sleds.

Australian Pink Floyd at the Orpheum, October 19, 2014

Ok so they are a cover band. Seen one seen them all? Cheap imitation. Fluff. Whatever. I almost pulled out going to see these guys, Australian Pink Floyd. It was a Sunday night. Early work in the morning. I was going alone to a concert, again. It was a cover band after all. However I said fuck it. I love Pink Floyd so why not go and enjoy their music? So at the last minute, I hopped into the truck, drove to the Boston Commons (free parking on a Sunday night in Boston), walked a short but pleasant hike through the Common to the Orpheum, went to the ticket office, ticket in hand and made my way to the balcony which to my surprise, a very nice view. By the look of it, the show was close to sold out as very few seats seemed empty. So at 7:30 they came on and from the first notes of Shine on you Crazy Diamond, I was hooked. They blew me away with their precision to detail from the electronic sounds, the saxophone, the back up singing girls, the lightshow and of course, the music. The giant air Kangaroo during One of These Days was very cool. If I closed my eyes it was like I was really at Floyd. They were perfect for the Orpheum which only enhanced the sound the way it bounced off the ceiling and down upon us, meaning the audience. Anyway, I was in such a good mood afterwards I even gave a bum two bucks. I would certainly go again. I hadn’t really planned on doing much filming but at times I just got carried away and whipped out my camera. During Comfortably Numb, the camera stopped for some reason but I got most of it. Of course in order to make the videos fit within the blog’s allotted file size, I had to water them down a little.

 

Sign me up for the next journey to the heart of the sun.

1. Set 1:

1. Shine On You Crazy Diamond (Parts I-V))
2. Learning to Fly 
3. What Do You Want from Me
4. Coming Back to Life 
5. Time
6. The Great Gig in the Sky
7. Money
8. The Happiest Days of Our Lives 
9. Another Brick in the Wall Part 2 
10. Set 2:

10. Pigs (Three Different Ones)
11. Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun 
12. Young Lust 
13. High Hopes
14. Hey You
15. Wish You Were Here
16. One of These Days
17. Comfortably Numb 

18. Run Like Hell (encore)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FGXlGHoaPXY&index=28&list=UUPY19uNjg3_ajzHXxCvNs8Q



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0rdvGW9HLZY

Why would I post pictures and video on The Writing Never Stops? Well… because I can. Actually I have always viewed photography and video as a different form of writing anyway. Whereas one writes with ink, a photographer or videographer uses light to compose his or her art. Besides I’ve been involved with both forms almost as long as I have writing, going back to my first camera in 5^th grade and my first camcorder, after the technology was made affordable, in 1990 or thereabouts. So why wouldn’t I post my pictures and videos? Someday, my sons may read this blog and they may find my videos tucked neatly away on YouTube so at least here I can explain some of what was going on or what I was thinking at the time.

 

Speaking of YouTube, a few years back, I believe Google bought or partnered with YouTube. Of course this forced changes I was unaware of. By doing that, for my original account I was supposed to update my old passwords, login and account information— you name it and somehow I missed it. It’s not like I spent my waking days watching my YouTube videos. So in time, as I went to sign in on my account to make some changes for friends, it no longer recognized me as the owner of the page, Stacktrick where all my old videos are posted. It only recognized the post Google merge and the few most recent videos I had uploaded. I have a ton of old videos on there that I can no longer access. I tried going through proper online channels for hours but it was just a big fat circle of frustration and I gave up. Insult to injury, most of the old videos used to be regular movie files I had stored on DVD’s and now they seem to be missing. So now I can only copy and paste the old link if I want to share it anywhere.

 

My blooper movie was actually one video and because of time/video constraints on YouTube, I had to break it into three parts to upload it. I’m missing part 3. I had uploaded it once but my friend’s wife requested I remove it for whatever reason. I think she owned a tanning salon at the time and was afraid of it going viral or something. (It amazed me how people were always afraid that my dumb little skits would go viral. Viral. Viral. Viral. I just shake my head) So I hid it from the public so only I could watch it and of course I can no longer access that account so, there you go. And finally the movie is just what it is— bloopers and outtakes from a variety of videos we made over the years from about 1990 to 2004. As I post individual skits later, if I get to it, I will provide the details and inspiration behind it. One of these days, my boys will see some of the stupid things their dad did and at least I will get to explain myself.

Monster Maze

This was at Honeypot Hill in Stow, the maze, brand new this season. I gave Luke and Chris a map and said, get us out of here. Allegedly its the biggest maze this side of England. However they were smart enough to use map to figure it out and I only had to intervene once. So proud of my young boys.

A tale of the beads

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MRbDA4DCu0s

Most things you either love them or hate them well, in my case of the beads, you either thought they were cool or gay as Elton John. However, I am not and never have been gay. It was early 1994, spring I think on a lazy afternoon, sitting around my parents house, lounging really on the couch and watching MTV. This new band Offspring, had a new song, Come out and Play and as I watched the video I was struck by how cool the singer's long beads looked. I thought about having mine done. Besides I didn't have a real job, just working for friends here and there and whatever part time job I could muster at the time. It was also my first summer in a long time when I was single and/or not moping around because of heartbreak-- women who had broke up or cheated on me. This was going to be my summer of mayhem and adventure and I think that by getting the beads and switching things up, I was making a statement. Look out.

Between 1994 and 1996, I had done the bead thing, in variations. The whole head, just the back head and once or twice just one strand of beads coming down the side (which years later, on the release of Phantom Menace, young Ben Kenobi character has a similar strand on the side of his head however, his wasn't beaded just braided).

In the YouTube video above, it was 1994 and Kyle's birthday party at my parents. My mom was famous for walking around during parties or events with the camcorder and then having had enough, she would set it down somewhere and just let it record. I was walking by the camcorder heading outside. My friends were over and we were hanging out front drinking beers. Rich was there and Jamie and Kevin and Slabs. Kevin had a son Andrew who was also two years old and Jamie's girlfriend Gina had a two year old son as well. I saw the camcorder and as of that time had no pictures of the beads so I bent over and showed them off. Of course Ciz was right there with a joke like he always is. The "yummy" was referencing the new movie that had just come out, Pet Detective starring "the white guy" from In Living Color and it was one of the expressions from his Ace character.

The picture where I'm sitting on my sister's Blazer with her Friend Jen Cole was at Great Woods 1994. It was either a River Rave or Lollapalooza, in which case it was an all day musical event fueled by beer and good vibrations.

The four pictures of me in the Bruins shirt were on the same day at my parents as I was on my way out. That's Kyle with me. I had my camera and was heading out to take pictures-- of what or who I have no recollection but my sister took these photos.

The last one is a year later, at my parents house. It's me and Rich and it's late and we're drunk. My sister took this shot too. She was seeing Rich then as I was dating her friend, Dawn. We had just got back from the bar. Our shirts are off because it was a brutally humid summer night and I hadn't installed the air conditioning yet. Those were the days of sleeping with a fan three feet away from my face.

One particular memory I have in 1995. I was working in Waltham at the time, it was a janitor thing for a company called Work Inc. out of Quincy. Jamie Shea had got me the job. His job was to work with mentally challenged kids and train them how to vacuum or clean bathrooms and sometimes it included taking them out to a movie or baseball game. I was just a straight up cleaner/maintenance guy. Work Inc. had many scattered work sights and they needed me at Trapelo Road in Waltham. I didn't have a car then. It either had broke down or I sold it or both, I don't remember but I had no way to get to there. Dawn Roosa worked in Burlington and drove by the Trapelo Road exit , on 128N, everyday. She was kind enough to pick me up and drop me off at the gas station right off the exit. From there I walked the mile to the job sight. One morning as I was walking, a car full of kids drove by and started hurling insults at me from their open window, "Fucking faggot!" and I swear they were too angry and must have thought I was a flamboyant queer strutting down the sidewalk. I thought they were going to turn around and kill me. But I walked straight ahead and didn't bat an eye lash.

journal 2013

I wrote this after watching the news. A bomb threat was supposedly made on the Moakley Courthouse and the scene became a media circus. I then posted it on Facebook because everybody was acting like idiots:

Here we go again, a human tragedy turned into a TV sitcom.

 

“Hi Jack, I’m standing at the Moakley Courthouse on Boylston Street where an unidentified man is eating a meatball sub with cheese, I repeat, meatball sub with cheese. Police are now moving the unidentified man across the street toward a sausage vendor… wait, we got more movement. Large crowd forming at Papa Ginos….”

 

“Sorry to cut in Jill, but we have reports of free French fries coming out of Papa Ginos… and I have to wonder if these are deep fried or baked….”

 

“Jack, a new report confirms. That is a hot dog, I repeat, a hot dog with extra mustard. I just can’t fathom what these people are thinking.”

 

“It’s a travesty what these people eat today. Man I could use a chicken pot pie.”

 

“It’s a sad commentary of the human condition in our post Weight Watcher’s Society… back to you, Jarrod.”