1990 New Years party at mom and dads house

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EsOOU5oeAy0

I love you mom and grammy. I wish I told you more than once that I loved you, not on the defensive but because I meant it.

journal 1995

I guess it’s time for yet another installment of my adventure journals— I say, I guess (in resignation) only because I’ve lost one very important presummer book that included significant trips to New York City, Quebec region and White Mountains— pissed really because some drunk crackhead freeloading loser who lived downstairs from Kevin in Braintree got a hold of it— he found it in his girlfriend’s car where it must have fallen out of my bag when she was giving me a ride to Randolph— that I even brought it outside with me on a drinking night; well the boyfriend found it and in jealous stoned rage thought I was sleeping with her and threw it out her car window one night near the train station ( I even went back to the station once I found out and combed the entire area, nothing), now gone forever from ink. Somehow it still lingers in my head.

 

So here I am, now, in Montreal, mid-August with a prison sentence over my head and not knowing if I can start school at Umass Boston in September or go to jail for an alleged assault and battery and indecent assault from last May night in Harvard Square— a drunk night for sure but I am no more a violent drunk than a housecat on catnip. I will get into that later. For now, I will live and try to capture and recapture spring and summer experiences for future stories. So here in Montréal, we will head downtown (centre-ville) for more sightseeing— figure I can write later as I’m sitting now in old port listening to French-Canadian singer woo locals and tourists while Martin and Dano discuss how to bring beers into a biker festival and I can’t concentrate— the amps are booming now and the breeze from the St Lawrence river is a-stirring. 

 

(The following is a tape-recording of myself, Dano and Martin in Dano’s truck on the way to biker festival. I had found the old mini tape player and tape maybe 3 years ago and transcribed it verbatim)

Martin: Oh oooh oooh oh oooh beautiful lady!

Dano: this is that food festival right?

Jim: I’m sick of going to these homo festivals with Martin. When are we going to do straight ones?

Dano: I’m tired of having to put on my leather G-string

(laughter)

Jim: Time for another Mohawk

 

(next recording)

Jim: Look at that Harley! (laughter)

Martin: Oh ooh oh ooh!

Jim: I feel like I’m at Great Woods right now

Martin: Maybe just right over there (looking for a place to park)

Jim: Let’s park next to a cop. That would be smart. I think you gotta pay to get in. I just saw people giving cash at the gate.

Dano: I won’t fit in there

Jim: That’s what she says

Martin: Ha ha— that’s what she says

Jim: Ah that hurt

Dano: that sounded like it

Martin: Outside of five woman— oh ooh oh ooh!

Jim: yup yup yup

Martin: in front of that

Jim: time to go to school— école

Martin : L’école

Jim : This is gonna be so strange seeing all these tough looking fat cigar smoking harley davidson wearing t-shirted guys speaking French.

Dano : Hey hey! Put us in reverse

Martin : can you open the door?

Dano : get out!

Jim : shut up

Dano : why don’t you just get out Jim

Jim : give me a beer and shut up all ya’s (car drives by) you might want to shut the door next time. Put that out! Behind you.

Dano : how far off from the proverbial curb am I?

Jim : Oh great. Only six feet

Dano : Well I know I’m great but thats beside the point. How far off am I?

Jim : Oh man. Check that car out, check it out, Dan, fucking nice.

Dano : what’s that? A Colt?

Jim : It’s a Volkswagen, man. Jerry’s dead, man.

Martin : Who?

Jim : Jerry Garcia

Martin : Jerry’s got a gun.

Dano : Do you know Jerry Garcia?

Martin : No

Dano : You don’t know Jerry Garcia?

Jim : Wow, I guess they are culturally inept... so what’s the deal here— gonna go hang out with a bunch of bikers

Martin : whatta fuck, man.

 

(later)

 

Jim : I never been inside a Québec jail, let’s try it out.

Martin : The service is very good, you know.

Jim : three hots and a cot.

Martin : Eggs, bacon for the morning.

Jim : Poutine at noon time.

Martin : Pussy in your face. (laughter)

Jim : Strippers at our own convenience. 1 900 numbers.

Martin : 196797676

Jim : Wow did you do that off the top of your head?

Dano : He’s used it enough times.

( a car horn beeps)

Dano : Dial-a-chicken (laughter)

Martin : Let’s go, man… There’s going to be a rock and roll party tonight. Man. I can feel it in the air. The cops we saw they are provincial cops like state cops. They are looking for problems, you know.

Jim : They’re looking for fights, they’re looking for brawls, they’re looking for guns. They ain’t lookin’ for little— a couple of Bostonians hopping the fence with a bag of beer.

Dano : I don’t think the cops care if we hop the fence either. What’s it to them.

Jim: Unless they’re really bored, they could go out of their way to bust our balls.

Dano: I don’t think they’ll be bored here tonight.

Jim: I know. Somehow I do have a feeling if we do hop the fence we’re going to get beat up, anyway. (laughter)

Martin: I like this place, man. It’s cool.

Jim: What’s this? School.

Martin: Yeah. Secondary. Kind of junior high.

 

(later)

 

Jim: Martin, have you ever had sex with a man?

Martin: Nope (laughter)

Jim: He’s lying.

Martin: With a guy that was okay. We had a talk for a half hour. Nothing happened. And we began to talk to each other. Talking about his life. Talking about my life. In that time I was with Marie.

Jim: What wasn’t good about it? (Dano laughs from the distance)

Martin: Nothing. I just want to try. That’s all. Hey! Tabernac! I’m talking about something very serious to me.

Jim: I’m having a hard time believing it.

Martin: It changed my life in a way.

 

(later inside concert area)

 

Jim: Hey Martin how ya doin’?

Martin: I am fucking drunk.

Jim: How drunk are you my friend?

Martin: Very druuuunk— hahahaha

Jim: Are you stupid?

Martin: (he speaks a couple of sentences in French)

Jim: You’re lookin’ rather naked and your pectoral muscle is dripping down your penis. Have you any comment on that?

Martin: Fuck you I won’t do what you told me! Fuck you I won’t do what you told me!

Jim: And that concludes our interview with a vampire. Stay tuned next week for Devo.

 (later)

 

Jim: This is WBCN live from Montreal, Canada. We’re here with the opening act of— who?

Dano: Alannah Myles?

Jim: Alannah Myles is opening up here live at Montreal, Canada and— ahh, we’re waitin’ for the band to come on stage. Rumor has it they are exciting. They’re full. They sound good. So stay tuned and when we come back from this commercial break we’ll have some Alana Nyles for ya.

Dano: Welcome to Auditory. There’s babes everywhere.

Jim: We’re still awaitin’ the arrival of Nine Inch Nails.

Dano: We’re still awaitin’ the arrival of Martin, the drunk.

Jim: Martin’s pulling a Jim. He’s pulling a me, folks but it’s okay because life is tooooo short to care but, anyway, David Bowie will be right back after these messages.

 

(later)

 

Jim: I’m gettin’ close to the stage. They’re doin’ soundchecks now, folks. You’re listenin’ to 104.1 WBCN, the roooock of Boston. We’ll be right back with more Offspring after this commercial message.

 

(later)

 

Jim: Dan wants images. Tell me some images my friend.

Dano: By the way you’re talkin’ into the speaker. The microphone’s up here.

Jim: Ohh ohh! … So there I was (laughter)

Here we are at the Greenday concert 95.

 

(later)

 

Jim: Okay you want images? I’m in a room full of French speakin’ Harley Davidson I’ll-kick-your-ass motherfuckers.

 

(later)

 

Dano: That’s fine but if you do end up back here in ten minutes you’re gonna be the exception to the rule… because ordinarily I would not fuckin’ see you again. So keep your shit with you, go on your way and I’ll see you later. That’s fine. I don’t care.

 

(later)

 

Martin: Hello… My name is… Martin Gagnon. Fuck you motherfucker. I’m drunk.

Jim: Yeah? Images. Okay Dano right now.

Dano: Okay so… bandanas, hats, studded belts, leather vests, Harley t-shirts, women in short shorts and halter tops— big breasts, shorts— ahh, I already said that but, but, but, butts big or small, beautiful, not so beautiful all the same… they’re flaunting themselves. There’s, roles are being played. The women fit the role— the women being sexual and lookin’ pretty. The men are macho and comin’ off as very strong and they’re playin’ their part. They got hair on their face. They’re very cool. It’s all good people.

 

(later)

(The announcer, in french, introduces band to wild applause and in background Martin talks to strangers, whistles, screams and shouts— then guitar, drums, rhythms, keyboards and a female singer.

Martin: That’s a real fucking biker party (he burps).

 

(later)

 

Jim: What’s your name?

Man: Norm.

Jim: Norm? Nooorm.

Man: Yeah

Jim: What does this music do for you?

Man: What’s do for me?

Jim: Yeah. Why are you here?

Man: For the biker.

Jim: You’re a biker.

Man: Yeah

Jim: That’s the only reason you’re here?

Man: Yeah— no, for the music and the people and the sun, the beer and all together— the party.

Jim: Yeah, the party. Well, back to the music. I been told this music here is very special to Canadians. Is it special to you?

Man: Yeah

Jim: Why?

Man: Because she’s a Canadian singer.

Jim: Neil Young’s a Canadian singer.

Man: Yeah. He good too, very good.

Jim: He just recorded an album with Pearl Jam.

Man: iiir… okay.

Jim: But anyway, I digress. What does she do for you? What’s the special connection?

Man: I don’t know how to… Er… (he speaks French to his girlfriend who is listening and laughing). I don’t know how to say in english.

Girlfriend: He likes her music, her voice.

Jim: Her style?

Man: Yeah yeah style because she’s a rocker. She’s blues. Blues? She’s blues. I like blues. That’s it.

 

 

  

College journal 1989

Feb 9

 

 

This is something I’m working on. I wrote it on emotion. I wanted it to convey the feeling— the sad feeling of being alone and near helpless in a life plagued with circumstance often not under our control. Often there is no one (even our collection of myths) to help us out of our sad situations or fates. It isn’t really a poem, maybe a song or just thoughts. Not sure what I’m going to do with it or not. Some time in her life she grew up and experienced something painful and realized it was her out there all alone that was accountable for overcoming what may come. The heroes have fallen from grace and become more realistic. I wanted to take these figures and give them a different meaning, twisting the traditional sense of the characters that we have come to know and expect.

 

I’m not sure what we are expected to write about in this journal. Must it be thoughts in prose or can they sometimes be little creative things? Or both?

In the morning parlor

The children all confidently gaze

At television figures

And mother begins to holler

 

Shut that damn thing off do you hear?

There is work to be done in here today

She never liked such foolish cartoons

Even as a child, absurd, she’d say.

 

Superman could fly through the sky

Turning those villainous grins

And though sometimes in flight, now

Prefers smoke and gin in the basement.

 

Achilles she’d read about in books

The strongest in the world of Greece

And Jason and his Argonauts

Ruined by the golden fleece

 

Aquaman cut through water like a missile

now cutting down a rainy street

Talking to the bums

Begging for change

 

Batman and Robin once fought crime

In darkened Gotham

Holy Jesus say Robin, oh Commissioner

Could you spare a dime?

 

Wonder Woman was so elegant

In her fabulous hidden plane

Now she’s living in a brothel

Pawned her Immortal Bracelet

 

Captain America was so fair

In his bold red, white and blue

Now he’s trading needles with the monkeys

Behind the cage at the zoo

 

Shut that damn thing off do you hear?

There is work to be done in here today

She never liked those silly cartoons

Even as a child, absurd she’d say

 

Now at midnight in the quiet hour

She reflects on her anguished life

Not knowing when her spirit died

Or when her heroes lost power

 

Did she read the papers too much?

The senseless obituaries

Khadafy’s murderous touch

Or was it her younger brother

Who lies beneath the ground

Having left this world too soon.

 

 

 

 

Feb 12

I’m smoking a Marlboro and drinking Old Thompson’s Whiskey with Pepsi. I am just sitting down and my mind is empty of organized thought. It is in a free flow motion and I am bored, tired and a little sad.

 

I’m also upset because my Math class moves too fast for my mind. Math is my least favorite study and the one discipline I’m not too good at understanding. Class moves too quick and I feel helpless, angry…. I want to slap the instructor in the face and say, “stop! Slooooooww down." I’m not sure if I have time for tutoring because I am a working boy.

 

I’ve written letters to my friend Rich all weekend. He has been my best friend since 1985 and he is in basic training at Fort Knox, Kentucky. All through my letters I’ve tried to convey to him the feeling of “home”— Randolph life that he used to know and despise and love. I think I’ve succeeded but I won’t know until I get his reply.

 

I’m also not prepared (at this moment) to face the impending week. I feel disorganized, unmotivated, and drained. I haven’t accomplished much this weekend. I played ice hockey, wrote letters, drank, spent time with my girlfriend, bowled, ate and slept— pretty spontaneously too and now I have to face a week of discipline— school, work and homework. Oh well… poor me. I feel like saying, “now Jim, get off your lazy stupid ass and get back out there!” I am not convinced.

I’m uptight and tense. Even sex hasn’t done the trick.Sex is great but all those who think it’s the ultimate soul reliever are liars and insensitive bastards. Unless of course, I’m doing something wrong.

 

This is a journal. Right? Ten minutes of free writing a night, huh? I suppose most people keep journals and write for themselves. No. They lie. Journals are only half truths. People have a tendency to pretty up their lives or melodramatify them and their situations. I don’t keep journals. I gave them up. Let’s face it, reality is boring so we like to make it better. So right now I’m not writing in a journal for the sake of that idea. I’m writing to you, I guess. Maybe I’m not. I’m not sure. At least that’s how I perceive it right now so, no offense. I don’t really think of this as homework. I think of it as a ritual of the soul.

 

Now I’ll reread that and listen to my thoughts and words pour over the page like sour juice. My words will probably hypnotize me ———— Yes! Hypnotize!

 

One of the reasons I’m upset is that I had a goal for the weekend that I didn’t accomplish. I had planned on spending time on algebra formulas, reading history book and finalizing a static scene paper for you. I didn’t do any of it. I spent an hour on math tonight but am just as confused as I was before. I am facing a busy week.

 

My deepest desire right now is… to pack my bags, get out, leave with Dano and Slabs and get out of Randolph. I want to just leave— anywhere. I just want to leave Randolph for a while and live somewhere for a week, anywhere— paradise— heaven— hell— and sometimes heaven is hell— it’s all the way you perceive things and what interests you, some people love war and killing strangers.

 

Anyway, don’t be surprised if I’m not in class for a week down the road.

I’m signing off. Good night.

Commercial (skit)

 

Are you lonely, depressed and tired of the same old girls night after night? We here at Slap-o-matic are putting on the brakes. It is our obligation to present to you the gift of all gifts— The Slap-o-matic 450. It rubs, it burns, it slaps, it jerks, it makes you feel like the man you deserve to be. This is the greatest invention since snap-on vaginal straps. If you are not fully satisfied you can keep Slap-o-matic— on us. But wait, there’s more. If you order now you get this free pleather carrying case (Spanish Fly not included). We care! Don’t just slap it. Slap-o-mat it!

 

Video ideas

 

Brandy as Slugs McUtley

The girls as Slugs lover

 

Will the real Rich B please stand up

Fill in pieces of his life, all embarrassing parts

 

Maine mountain shots (this in Blue Hills or Hollywood)

 

Tonya with dirty diapers and the chocolate covered hands and face

 

Utley news center segment

 

It’s fun to find out what Dano’s shit really smells like….

 

Before and after (slabs and Kevin)

 

This and that and nothing and something card game

 

 

 

____ Tonya playing in the yard. Dano walks over, picks her up and says, “Oops, Tonya did a nasty.” Dano lays her down, undresses and undoes the diaper. It is a tough sell and it gets messy as he mistakenly gets some on his hand and wipes his cheek and he shakes his head and grimaces and says, “there’s got to be an easier way.”

 

Narrator voice over: don’t let a tough task get you down. With our new easy disposable Chunkies diapers, even the tough task of diaper changing can be fun.

 

 

Jim: Hey look at this

Dano: Hey look at that

Jim: here, take this

Dano: ok take that

Jim: take this and that

Dano: hey here’s something

Jim: I got nothing

Dano: Well, take something

Jim: here’s something for nothing

Dano: just like your life

Jim: take this something

Dano: take that nothing

Jim: say what?

 

 

Utley News Segment

 

Good evening and I’m Chuck Wagon and this is CNO news report. In Washington yesterday, hundreds of gay activists, alarmed at the growing rate of gay bashing took to the streets in protest. One big concern is that there are not enough programs to educate bashing offenders. Bill Cod from Georgia said, “These injustices… they are hard to swallow.” They staged the protest outside the White House in a united front. Dick Hertz from Holden put it bluntly, saying, “There are just too many holes and cracks. The system is flawed.” No further update as of yet.

 

 

me and chris

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OfUV-F9jFro

I watched this movie with my 9 year old son on Christmas Day and he watched the whole damn thing with me, even through the parts that would bore a young child. He gets it.

On looking back, I was never a poet, I just liked to write poems. Maybe I'll never be an author but I will always be a writer.

George Bailey

Of course, in the alternate ending, George Bailey comes to the grim realization that no man is a failure who has lots and lots of money.

Two poems 1993

 

He steps outside, wind

across face, morning

frost gathers at his boots,

dreams of worlds far away.

His shadow trails, moves

toward the western sun,

travels a hero’s run

in Times Square, escape the cold

in a room with an Indian

traveler who speaks of an empty life.

The bus rolls over

the Mississippi.

The Arch, frozen in time,

Divides memory into pieces.

He faces the sky.

A deep breath.

Looks back—

footprints,

strange fearful journey,

fossilized.

Abandon the shadow

For the other coast.

 

          *

 

Eyes closed.

Stuck in midstream

canal walls loom.

Worms splash

inside and over

dark caves echo

more darkness, slip

on wet rocks, spill

out from the black,

a crimson light

like blood.

He crawls toward it.

 

 

Found these not dated but based on the subject matter I would have to date them 1993.

All Dressed up in Blue (A parody)

All Dressed up in Blue (sung or read to the song Tangled up in Blue by Bob Dylan)

 

 

She was hurtin’ when we first met

Soon to quit her job.

Well I helped her out with her boss, I guess

Even though he was a lying slob.

I went to work as fast as I could

With a badge upon my chest.

Saw Babs who had worked all night

And was sleepin’ like the rest.

She wore the clothes of security

And smiled as I came her way

She yelled over her shoulder

Just meet me at the cage

And we’ll just snooze

All dressed up in blue.

 

I had a job at the Burger King

Slaving as a cook was like hell

Well I never did fry those frozen fries

And one day the grease trap just fell

So I wandered down to the Filenes

Where they made me their new stock boy

Workin’ in the aisle of the underwear

Right beside a girl named Joy

Can’t see why they sent me home

that job is far behind

Still work with lots of women

But she never escaped my mind

So I just knew.

All dressed up in blue.

 

She was workin’ with Jim at the gate

When I got reamed for a lazy affair

I was counting all the dirty truck’s freight

In the trailers so near

And later on as the trucks slipped out

Went to the Ogden office again

She was leaning there

In back of Jim’s chair

She said, honey you must be insane

I muttered lunch underneath my breath

She studied the lint on my face

I must admit I felt a little uneasy

When she bent down to tie the laces

Of my guard shoes.

All dressed up in blue

 

She fixed the noise on the radio

Offered me 905

She thought I’d never smooth Captain Zollo

He acts like the stubborn type

She opened up a book of rules

And read them all to me

givin’ by Agent Rick Pulumbo—

the shift of 7 to 3

and every one of them rules were true

and enforced from Control

to South Building and the Cage

to Gate, Dock post and 925

yes! Irene too

all dressed up in blue.

 

Jack worked with her in the mezzanine

Eyeing the warehouse upstairs

Heard Henry groaning of the cold, all right

And Roland sipping a warm beer

They both felt that they were enslaved

There wasn’t anyplace to hide

She said, Henry’s jumpsuit’s got to go

Or he’ll end up fired.

And again that guy his mind flipped out

I signed the last St John’s.

The only thing that I had to do

Was to wait for break at 2

And I hoped time flew

All dressed up in blue.

 

And now I’m at the docks again

I got to get to her somehow

Most patrolmen we used to know

They’re cashiers at Pizza Hut now

Henry is a mean Vulcan

Babs writes The Three Stooges Lives

Don’t know how it all got started

Don’t know when they hired that spy

But me I’m still at Bay 16

Just signin’ out another truck

We always did our jobs the same

We just sat there on a different post

And snoozed

All dressed up in blue

                                                                                 *

A parody I wrote in perhaps 1988 ish, not sure off the top of my head. My first security gig, when I was a kid and in my own mind, it was okay to be a security guard, not so much as an adult. It was Ogden Security in Braintree. I remember getting a few of my friends jobs there among them Dave Babineau and Paul Wabrek. There were a few more too which I’m not sure about. Maybe Bart Jokinen and Rob Ellesmiller. Maybe Rich too. Anyway the parody is about the job and the people sung to Dylan. It’s just something I threw together at the time for a quick laugh and just recently dug it up.

 

 

Arlo Guthrie

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

having a few beers... one of my favorite all time tunes....

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BvLtNBm1yyA

And there goes Christmas, slipping quietly away into the abyss of time... and I am reminded of my youth, on many high school Friday/Saturday nights, when I stayed in my room, drinking beer, a shot or two of Beam and I just listened to music and wrote letters or in my journal... and I was at peace with myself. Real unhindered mental forget-me-not moments.... and while I'm at it, I think it's about time we got rid of merry-- it's so overused it ought to be banned! Haha! Learn to heal... learn to heal....

My favorite twenty songs over the past 5 years

Why five years and not six or seven? I guess it's just a nice easy number. Although I'm a little bummed some very good music was released in years prior to 2009. Anyway this is just a little fun sentimental look back at some of the tunes that blew me away. These songs had some sort of significant impact on me whether it was emotional, spiritual, musical or inspirational. It may even spill over to a couple of honorable mentions. There was a ton of great music over the past few years but just for kicks, here's my list. Songs are randomly chosen not by favorites.


Radiohead- Lotus Flower (from King of Limbs 2011)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cfOa1a8hYP8&index=2&list=PL5B27D2C118B3BF90

Metric- Eclipse All Yours (Eclipse soundtrack 2010)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YHLaxcqAcwQ

Vance Joy- Dream your Life Away 2014)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uJ_1HMAGb4k

Weezer- (If you're wondering if I want to) I want you to (Raditude 2009)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cDIzMGh94vo

Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros - Home ( Up from Below 2009)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DHEOF_rcND8

Mumford and Sons- Little Lion Man ( Mumford and Sons 2009)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lLJf9qJHR3E

Morning Parade- Running down the Aisle ( Morning Parade 2012)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4bCXMfrLKIA

Imagine Dragons- Bleeding Out (Night Visions 2012)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gJEoxeW7JvQ

Of Monsters and Men- Little Talks ( My Head is an Animal 2012)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ghb6eDopW8I

Silversun Pickups- Skin Graph (Neck of the Woods 2012)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JZHrd6kZaic

Death Cab for Cuties- You are a Tourist (Codes and Keys 2011)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qkk5wViJo-I

Weezer- I Don't Want To Let You Go (Raditude 2009)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=huParVeEarc

Animal Kingdom- Strange Attractor ( The Looking Away 2011)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3s_BqdZrUbE

Muse- Resistance (The Resistance 2009)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TPE9uSFFxrI

Alice N Chains- Check my Brain ( Black Gives Way to Blue 2009)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SBcADQziQWY&list=RDSBcADQziQWY#t=0

Jane's Addiction- Irresistible Force ( The Great Escape Artist 2011)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rVOi5Hdbd7Q

Soundgargen- A thousand days before ( King Animal 2012)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BsbemMGoCC0

Blink 182- Ghost on the Dance Floor (Neighborhoods 2011)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HTHfTX8DQZc

Come on Santa baby... I'm a waitin! Bring on the magic... and please wipe your feet.

On all fours, journal 12/23 2014

 
Ok so I went to a strip club, The Glass Slipper I think was the name of it. First off, strip clubs are not my thing and I have been to maybe 5 in my life. Let’s see, the first was in Montréal as a teenager; second, on my way across the country in 1992 in Vegas, looking for an old girlfriend; third, in Taunton (well it was really just a topless bar and the only reason I was there was that downstairs, Kevin’s sister Gail was running a Karaoke contest) in 1994; once in 1995 in some remote region of Québec where they didn't speak English; and lastly, here and now in 2014. I went because my friends were cold and wanted to go see naked girls. I was dressed for a cold night of walking around Boston— ski pants, two sweatshirts and a Carhart jacket and snow boots. Apparently they weren’t as prepared as me anyway. Okay fuck it I said, I’ll go.

Actually we first tried to get into Centerfolds but they refused us saying they thought one of us looked drunk. However I think it was because we were kind of dressed like hobos with our hats, gloves, big jackets and backpacks so we went next door and had no problem with them at the door. Well, the girls were beautiful and tight and buxom and all that and shit— I’m only a man and I did have my looks although I was more interested in watching the Chargers-Niners game on the TV over the bar as San Diego was making an epic comeback.

Anyway, I understand the girls were making a living and were selling themselves to us, or trying to, for money, I get that part. I just don’t get the nudity and sex for cash. For instance, there was a girl dancing all around the pole, doing her thing and five men up front along the stage were feeding her bills, rolling them up into little green balls and tossing them at her or on the floor; she gets down on a fours, her ass and pussy pointing right into the whites of their eyes and the song ends. She remains on all fours, picking up the bills around her, still shaking her ass, like knocking a tap for the last sip. I mean, is that the kind of living you can live with yourself? It’s kind of sad. And there were other things— back rooms where 30 dollars bought private dances or whatever else they do. Eighteen dollar beers, no thank you. And for what? To get all hard up for girls you are not meant to have? I say, stay home, save your money and just beat off. On top of that, I lost my Bruins hat again (I lost it once in 2010 at a Blue Man Group show. A good friend, at the time, took me there, at the Charles Playhouse I think. I actually recovered it a few days later, although recovery from a strip club may be a tall order indeed). All in all it was great to be with my friends again. I’ve come to realize once again, for some, it is haven, but for me it’s just something to avoid if possible.

 

Journal 12/20/2014

So sometimes I’ll have a few beers on the weekend, alone and bored and I’ll go on my blog and post videos, movie clips or random thoughts. And sometimes, I’ll think I’m on Facebook or to a lesser extent from preFbook days, Myspace and that I’m posting for an audience. This cracks me up. I guess I’m still conditioned to feel like that. Truth is my blog is a big black hole and I am here alone. And if I say something slightly off mark or controversial, there’s no backlash here, no politics or drama, no pretense or phony catering to false friends.

 

So at the gym today, and I remembered (resigned up maybe 2 months ago) a few things about the gym that I hated. And in no particular order: the dirty sweat sock stink of the men’s changing room; fat grey-haired, red-assed naked men combing their hair at the sink, weight lifters who grunt so loud I can hear them beneath my headphones and they sound like they are orgasming all over themselves; men who stare at their bodies while they lift; women who stare at their bodies while they lift; ignorant people who occupy a machine and not only are they not using it, they will sit there playing with their Iphone; manly women with muscles bigger than mine, well mostly just manly women in general; well that’s all I got for now on that.

 

And I’m suddenly drawn to the Charles River for some reason. At work, The Charles runs parallel to the new apartment complex we are building and so I see it every day from the 4^th floor as it flows and muscles its way toward the ocean, dark and brooding and cutting and shifting the tall banks as it goes, chunks of ice drifting like small dinghy’s, and the trees, (in July thick with green leaves of birch, pine and maples) now barren and branches spindly like skeletons. I watch from the unfinished deck as the cold wind whips my face and a chill so deep it stays inside me like a virus. It’s moments like that which make me appreciate work and life.

 

Today I noticed that they are making changes to Belcher Park. It looks like they are building a network of playground areas for kids, which is great. However, I was shocked, in a bittersweet kind of way when I saw that there was a new wood structure right where the old fort used to be— I mean it couldn’t have been placed any better. I walked up the short hill, old memories of stumbling up our leafy rocky path (now wide open), teetering with beers in hand toward the fort to start a camp fire— and once there, took a few pictures from different angles and determined that this new play fort whatever thingy was exactly where our old fort used to be.

 

Then:

 

Me and Mark (Fitzy) Fitzgerald in the fort 1985.

Kevin Trull sporting the doo in 1985.

Classic view: what a handsome profile. 1985

My brother Dave, Rich Bartelamia and me. 1985.

 and now:

Today, the view coming up what used to be a tree/shrub/rock infested path. 2014

Notice the trees behind it and look at the picture with Kevin. 2014.

 

 

Ok almost time for the annual trek into the Commons with my friends, a backpack full of beer and a lifetime of memories to come. Merry Christmas.

Change

I try to impress upon him that life is a series of changes and adapting to each change. Our lives are constantly evolving, even as adults. I am 45 years old and still question myself. Why am I here? Where am I heading? Even though foundations seem secure, time has a way of eating through the seam, breaking through the rock. I am still searching. I don't want to miss the next change, the next adventure. I told him, be brave and be yourself. It will guide you. I am not the person I was five years ago. In five years I will not be the person I am today. Keep all possibilities at your hip. You never know where it will take you. If things don't work out, at least you can say, you tried, did the best that you could to do what you thought was right, even though it seems everything you do is always dreadfully wrong. The truth will wash up on the shore at the end of the day.

Vance Joy Riptide

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uJ_1HMAGb4k  song #4

 I can't stop listening to this song. Downloaded the album yesterday and man, great stuff. first four songs are awesome (4 is riptide) but haven't had a chance to really listen to 5-13 yet. This guy is a talented songwriter/musician. look for him to win best new artist/song or some type of award.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1C816p-KTNk    song # 2


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bNl-dgYR3n8   song #3


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ztotPvPA-mw   song#1

The Intoxicated Monkey

this was a group of poems I wrote during 11th and 12th grade high school years, under the influence of acid mostly from the confines of the Fort in Belcher Park or in my room at 70 Allen Street. However, apparently the collection has been lost. I found the empty folder. Damn. Again, the reason why I am posting this stuff on a private blog is in case my hard copies get lost or the same Word files get erased because hard drive craps out.

1991 journal

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.