Pictures

This last one is from Dino Lee, courtesy of http://tblweb.com

I was up in the Loge/Mezzanine section, and my pictures pretty much turned out like crap. I'll post some nice grainy video clips in a few days and you'll see that my camera's optical zoom couldn't quite handle things from that distance.

 

Robert Plant at the Beacon Theatre, New York City - Benefit for Love's Arthur Lee

The incredible setlist was:

In The Evening
Bummer in the Summer (with Johnny Echols)
What Is and What Should Never Be
The Old Man (with Johnny Echols)
For What It's Worth
When Will I Be Loved (with Ian Hunter)
A House Is Not A Motel (with Johnny Echols)
Can't Help Falling In Love
Hey Joe
7 & 7 Is... (with Johnny Echols)
Ramble On

Encore:
Thank You


The concert was a long and enjoyable one, so I’ll just hit on a few highlights.

Flashy Python and the Bodysnatchers were the first group to play, although I believe they were only a group for that night. Alec Ounsworth of Clap Your Hands Say Yeah led the band into a convincing rendition of Love’s Andmoreagain to open the show. Following the Love tune, two more songs were performed. Ounsworth’s vocals reminded me very much of a young Dylan.

Garland Jeffreys gave a very energetic performance, although he did not sing any Love songs. He did, however, give an a cappella reading of Little Red Book before leaving the stage.

The set changes between acts were fairly brief. There were two wheeled risers for drum kits that were simply pushed out onto the stage as a unit when necessary, which limited the turnaround time. A lot of Love was played over the loudspeakers, but also other songs roughly of the era.

Jeffreys was not the only performer not to do any Love songs. Gavin DeGraw and Ryan Adams & The Cardinals didn’t play any either. DeGraw apparently had originally been asked to play, but believed he couldn’t, and then decided to at the last minute. He did two songs, including one of his own that got a lot of radio play in the US, according to my companion at the show (someone who listens to MTV TRL type stuff). The first song he did may have been something from Ray Charles – I’m really not sure. It did showcase a genuine vocal talent.

Ryan Adams and his band presented a kind of alternative country/rock blend that was quite good. He was heckled a little, apparently for saying he couldn’t really play any Love due to his vocal range. He blew them off, retorting, “yeah, I know you went to college.”

Nils Lofgren, unbeknownst to me, was/is a guitarist with Springsteen’s E Street Band and has also worked with Neil Young in the past. He put on an enjoyable performance with some long jams. He played one of his own songs, Shine Silently, and a great version of Love’s Alone Again Or, minus the horns. He closed with a dynamic “Because the Night,” which was a big surprise and got the crowd into a frenzy.

Ian Hunter of Mott the Hoople fame preceded Robert. I was unfamiliar with much of what he played, except for a 60s standard, the name of which eludes me at present – and of course All the Young Dudes, for which he led the crowd in a sing along.

I believe the last three acts played with the same backing band. The drummer was mentioned as being from Paul McCartney’s Wings. There were also two guitarists, a bass player, and an organ/keyboard player named Andy. He was there for almost all the performers. When the DJ from Q 104.3 (acting as the Master of Ceremonies for the evening) inquired, Andy told him that he had rehearsed over 400 songs with the various acts for that night (seems unlikely). He was also asked early in the evening if he had rehearsed any Zeppelin tracks, and his response of “maybe” got an ovation.

So when the band finally came out after Hunter’s set, it was not the Strange Sensation. It was instead a group of unfamiliar guys. It might be worth noting that the drummer sat behind a bass drum that was the smallest I had ever seen used for any Led Zeppelin song ever.

In any event, the band was on stage for a full thirty seconds or more, playing something unrecognizable, before Robert Plant emerged from the darkness on the left side of the stage. He raised an arm to the cheering crowd, strode to the microphone and sang, “In the eeevening…..,” at which point the band exploded and I couldn’t hear anything besides a throaty growl of “YEAH!” which turned out to be coming from me.

Ironically, when I saw Robert five years ago for the first time, I said to my girlfriend that the Strange Sensation seemed eminently capable of doing a fantastic version of In the Evening. Now he’s chosen to sing the song for the first time in about ten years with a different collection of musicians altogether. Indeed, Robert remarked later in the night that the past two days were the first time he’s really worked with American players, and he found the experience quite… “liberating” and then wondered aloud if he should use that particular word. The song was great, and well received. The crowd got a few chances to sing the “oooh – I need your love” portion and Robert smiled through the whole song.

Bummer in the Summer was drastically different from the 2001 Strange Sensation performances. It began slowly on acoustic guitar before kicking in with the electric. The fast arrangement gives Robert the opportunity to do something that approaches rapping (essentially he was just singing very, very quickly) which is quite interesting to hear.

What Is and What Should Never Be was next, and Robert and the band delivered. He smiled and motioned back and forth during the ‘stereophonic’ section in which the guitars stand alone, first from the left, then right, and so on. “Everybody I know seems to know me well, but does anybody know that I move like hell?!”

Robert had spoken about the challenge of singing Old Man the previous day on the Soundcheck interview show. He approached it very carefully, and sang it very softly. In fact, throughout the night, it seemed very much like he was limiting himself somewhat and tending to ‘under-sing’ some things that I know he’s still capable of wailing. It seems as if in big spots with lots of exposure, he’s a little afraid of belting it out for fear of the voice breaking. Performances on Letterman, Leno, VH1 Storytellers (where he didn’t even do the loooove section at the end of Whole Lotta Love), and Austin City Limits are good examples. This was my eleventh time seeing Robert Plant in concert, and though his voice has certainly aged (the man is going to be 58 this year, after all), he can still reach the upper register. Tin Pan Valley provided positive illustrations of this on his last tour.

After Old Man, Robert was looking around for Ian Hunter for a duet, but Hunter failed to materialize and instead the band went into the Buffalo Springfield classic For What It’s Worth after a brief introduction about playing the song with John Bonham in the Band of Joy (which appears on the Sixty-Six to Timbuktu retrospective). Midway through the song, Hunter emerged with an acoustic guitar and played along to the conclusion after a few words in Robert’s ear.

The next song, written by one of the Everly Brothers and popularized by Linda Ronstadt, was When Will I Be Loved. Hunter and Plant traded vocals and Robert looked like he was laughing most of the time when he wasn’t on the microphone. There were a few times when either he or Ian was off slightly and they would look back at each other. Not flawless, but fun.

A House is Not a Motel, once again with original Love guitarist Johnny Echols, was changed slightly from previous Strange Sensation and Priory of Brion versions. I would agree with the previous reviewer, Li, in that it was perhaps more melodic. Robert grabbed an acoustic guitar from the rack onstage and played along during the ending section. Echols sounded amazing on the solo, and Robert kept looking over approvingly.

The Elvis song that came next was a tremendous surprise. When Robert stepped to the mic and began with “Wise men say...only fools rush in…” there were smiles all around. This was another song he sang very carefully, standing very still, with his legs crossed at the ankles. He successfully kept his voice in the lower register for the duration of the song and sang it very well. Throughout the evening, he was more ‘tight than loose, more light than shade’ I would say, and most Zeppelin fans might know what I mean when I say that. It was a distinct pleasure to hear Robert give proper treatment to a Presley tune after listening to him sing bits and pieces in all those Zeppelin performances.

Hey Joe was done in similar fashion to the regular Strange Sensation renditions, only slightly...spookier is really the only word for it, I think. Just a little bit slower. Eerie. After the “Just like I saaaaid” portion, the band went into something different and Robert was singing something else – presumably a Love song I didn't recognize [note: this turned out to be "Nature Boy" - written by George Alexander Aberle - AKA eden ahbez - and popularized by Nat King Cole].

7&7 Is was done a little closer to the original from Love's Da Capo rather than the Strange Sensation versions – leaning toward punk.

When the drummer put a cover over the tom, I said “wow, Ramble On...” The song was given a fairly standard run-through, but it was still nice to hear. The house lights came on after the song, and the crowd started to leave, but Robert ventured back onto the stage for one more.

Before Thank You, Plant said that “Well, people get married to this song, and people get married because of this song. I don't know...”

The DJ acting as master of ceremonies mentioned a few times that there would be an after-show party at BB King's on 42nd street, but no one from the show came to the club. There was a guitarist named Jon Paris who was a pretty good blues player, but nobody there to live up to the marquis that said “Arthur Lee Benefit Jam.” He played a little Kashmir unaccompanied, then stopped and said, “we'll see who shows up later.” Other hints were dropped, so maybe something was planned and didn't materialize, or maybe there was just a deal to funnel people to BB King's. Robert probably either went to bed or went somewhere where no one was wearing a Zeppelin shirt. Adam Bomb (the guitarist that played the insane solo on JPJ's Angry Angry on Thunderthief) did stop by and play Rock and Roll, Hendrix's Fire, and briefly light his pink guitar on fire.

Other than the minor disappointment at the end of the night, it was an incredible evening.

Southern Congressman Doesn't Quite Get It

The Colbert Report - priceless stuff.

More Old Stuff

Again, in the spirit of dredging up slightly ancient history (over six years old), this comes from a folder named "Attempts at Poetry" and was entitled "Talk." A quick glance tells us that it was created on February 2, 2000.

why is it this way?
his eloquence is unmatched
when the spotlight is far away
when it doesn’t really matter


but when he takes the stage,
when he speaks to her
he is but a speechwriter -
without a politician

without charisma
without poise
he stumbles over his own words
awkward and clumsy before her


his tongue tripping inside his mouth

they are written in a foreign language

he can’t tell her
can’t show her what he wants her to see


his mind is an ocean
the depth of which he does not know -


the parts she may need to see are dark
there is no warm glow of light

how can he show her?
he cannot find the way himself


_____

Yeah, that's poetry gold, I know.

Anyway, here's something from July 2004 (just a tad more recent) before I returned to college. I was a regular at the Studio and was fooling myself into believing I could sing, and apparently even write lyrics. I was quickly discouraged after this attempt, of course. In a folder called "master lyricist ha ha" is

Same Old Roads

I’ve got friends who’ll never leave this town
They just can’t understand
Everything I see here
Seems to drag me down

Well, I’m dri____vin down these same old roads again
Guess I don’t have to wonder why
I can’t seem to get
To the places I’ve never been [Alt. Lyrics: “where I’ve never been”]

These roads aren’t dead ends
Lots of bends, lots of curves, lots of turns
Somehow they all lead slowly back
To my desperate origins

Well, I’m dri____vin down these same old roads again
Guess I don’t have to wonder why
I can’t seem to get
To the places I’ve never been [Alt. Lyrics: “where I’ve never been”]

____

As I recall, I became frustrated with my own inablility to come up with anything more complex than this that wasn't prose, and also at Brett for not being able to come up with the right kind of melody. But really it was probably just anger at not being able to sing.

That's about it for now. Good evening.

Old Stuff

Well, today is Father's Day. My dad's been pretty melancholy lately for a variety of reasons, but I was sitting with him at dinner and he was watching Grand Ole Opry Live on some country station. He started talking about how it was too bad that he didn't know anything about music because he thinks he could have been a fair songwriter. I told him that you don't necessarily need to know anything about music to be a decent lyricist, and he seemed amazed. He thought that you needed to be proficient musically in order to write a song, or lyrics for a song.

A few minutes later, he brought up a yellow legal pad with some lyrics to a piece he called Wind & Sand that had some specific meaning to him beyond what the words actually said, and with a little revision/honing of language it could be pretty good. He intimated that he had seen himself as a novelist once when he was laid off and he wrote quite a few things "about life" as he put it. I know this happens with quite a few parents and kids, but the older I get, the clearer it is that my father and I are more alike than I had ever thought while growing up.

Anyway, this little exchange led me to go through some files of my own and I stumbled upon a folder entitled "book...maybe" from what had to be 2000. The document was in Microsoft Works 4.0, which confirms a little more just how old it was. Reading it, I see how 'ancestral' it is to my early blog posts. It's not terribly long, so I'll post it just for curiosity's sake.

More odd mixes of self-deprecation and arrogance, as you'll see. I was 19, and if you're wondering where on the Wyatt calendar that falls, it immediately precedes the Destini relationship.

Here 'tis:

So. I’m gonna start my book now. Or a journal. Or a journal that I want to get published. This is sort of like a “free-write” thing right now, where I’m just typing and typing and typing and not stopping and seeing what comes out. Basically writing down everything that I’m thinking of, thought for thought, as fast as I can. It might be kind of pointless, because who’s going to want to read this, really? No one. But maybe they will, because you never know what kinds of things people are going to want to read, ya know?

So this is going to be a kind of narrative thing in the style of Catcher in the Rye. Of course, I said that before when I started a book like this with Ben in junior year, and it really turned out nothing like ‘Rye - but hey - I have to start somewhere, right? It might just be a little life history with some happenings expanded upon a little bit, to make it more interesting. Right now I’m thinking I might try to email it to a publishing company or something. I don’t know if they have email addresses for submissions or anything, but I guess I’ll find that out when I try, huh?

Yeah. So I sort of lacked the ambition to really start on this project before, because, if you think about it - it really does take some balls to just “up and start” writing a book. Writing something is one thing - but starting it and knowing that you want it to be a book is something quite different. The pressure of staring at a blank page and needing to fill it- that’s all been well-documented. And maybe nobody is going to want something like this - all laid-out and straightforward. But - and I hate to use this as an example - if you look at the success of “reality-based” television programs like Survivor and Real World and Big Brother and all that, then you might think differently. I really wasn’t starting this out with that thought as my motivation, of course. Like I said - I started something like this when I was in 11th grade, and my life probably isn’t as exciting as The Real World is, but oh well. And I’m certainly not a proponent of shows like that.

I think they’re kind of stupid, and I don’t know why that many people watch them. Hmmm. And an argument against a book like this could be that the millions of people that watch those shows aren’t going to want to actually sit down and read something when they can watch it - Americans are well noted for their short attention spans, even on fast-changing visual stimulation like TV. So a book - any book really - but especially a book like this - maybe that wouldn’t play to them at all. Who knows? I certainly don’t. And maybe the people that determine the viability of publishing books like this are going to recognize the truth in what I just said and send whatever I send them right back to me with an attached message saying that it’s a stupid idea. Or - in all likelihood - they won’t send anything back to me at all. Oh, the hell with it. I think I should probably just get on with it and stop with all this speculative bullshit.


So. Here I am. Midway through the second page.

Alright then. So I’m 19. I may not be as worldly as Holden Caulfield, or I might be more so. I’m not sure. But I’ll do my best to give you some stuff you might want to read. It might be full of traditional teenage angst crap that no one really wants to hear about any more, especially given the fall in popularity of grunge rock in the late nineties and more focus on the shiny, happy people in boy and girl bands. But maybe not. Let’s see now. Where to start? In the other book I had going a few years ago, I started off rambling much in the same manner that I have done in the preceding paragraphs, and then I started from the very beginning - meaning that I gave the location and circumstances of my birth. So I think I might as well go from there again.

Hell - maybeI’ll just rewrite that thing up until the point where I stopped and then move on from there. That might be the easiest thing. It also might be a little cliche for something like this, but I don’t really care. I had like 27 pages or something. A lot of people that read it were pretty interested. So maybe I’ll just do that.

Okay then. I was born in the dingy little town of Jamestown, New York, in WCA Hospital. It was a cold, dismal day from what I hear, which fits in with the rest of my life I guess.

You’l lunderstand later why I said that. Oh yeah. It was August 15, 1981, in case you’re interested in details. Of course I don’t really remember any of that, so I think I’ll skip to the point where I start remembering stuff that was halfway important. Well...none of it’s really important, per se - but you know what I mean.

Alright. So I didn’t go to preschool, like a lot of other kids did, and I don’t know how that impacted my later development or anything, or even if it made any difference at all. When I was about 4, I went to this little thing called Story Hour at Falconer Public Library, where I met a few other kids.

I don’t really remember anyone specifically from back then, but I know from looking at stuff my mother saved from that Kristen Y was in that little group. Kristen comes into the story a little later, so you might as well remember her.

Oh yeah - Story Hour. So my grandmother pretty much baby-sat me during all this time when my parents were at work. My mom would drop me off at my grandparents’ on the way to work and I’d stay there until she got out of work and picked me up. So my grandmother would cart me down to “downtown” Falconer (it’s in quotes because...well, if you ever see it, you’ll know that it only has about 4 traffic lights and it’s pretty damn small) to Story Hour so I could be read to and entertained for a little bit.

The next “big event” was kindergarten. When my mother took me to “kindergarten round-up” at Temple Elementary School in Kennedy, NY (sort of like orientation I suppose) we met the teachers and some of the kids and stuff.

I don’t remember exactly how it happened, but I think we saw one of the teachers being a little harsh with one ofthe kids - Mrs. Scholeno her name was - and my mother like stormed down to the main office and demanded that I not be assigned to her. Kind of funny when you think about it. Or maybe not.

Nevertheless, I ended up in Mrs. Fitzpatrick’s class. She was a very sweet old woman, probably about 4 feet tall or something. Anyway, she was pretty short, and I enjoyed kindergarten. It would be the last year that I even somewhat enjoyed compulsory education until around 10th or 11th grade. I went to kindergarten when it was still only half a day - like 8:30 to 11 or something - I don’t remember. But the important thing is that I was home to my grandparents’ house in time to watch Spiderman on television. I’m not going to mention some of the more embarrassing stuff I did while under the guise of Spiderman or He-Man. Sorry. Suffice it to say that I signed my name on papers like “Wyatt A.K.A. Spiderman” or “He-Man” and did stuff like that. That’s allyou need to know.

The next year I had Mrs. Vanstrom for first grade, and I liked her a lot too. We started to read stuff in first grade - simple sentences like “my dog likes to run” and so forth. I read in class a lot because I was fairly good at that and spelling and everything, but unfortunately I had a tendency to say “um” and “ah...” once in a while and when answering questions I would always start out that way - which I still do fairly often, so I guess I never really got over it. Oh well.

First grade was also the year I met Aaron C (he might have been in Story Hour, but if he was, I don’t remember) and I might as well mention this story about him not letting me play with his dinosaurs. Even though he doesn’t remember it, I do. Aaron is quite important to the story later on, so that’s why I brought him up now.

And by the way - no names have been changed to protect the innocent or the guilty. If they were, I’d change mine too, but since I’m not going to change my name, I’m not going to change anyone else’s either. Oh. So back then, I was pretty smart in just about everything - I was in the highest reading group and everything. That kind of success would continue pretty much up until the end of sixth grade.

After that, my math skills tailed off, or at least didn’t really progress, even though they put me in the advanced math group (basically, I skipped 7th grade math, along with a large handful of other kids and went straight to what New York State calls Course I, which is algebra stuff).

But getting back in the spirit of chronological order, second grade was a bit worse for me. I liked the teacher - Ms. Swanson, who is regrettably now deceased - alright, but I had Mrs. Bower for reading, and I was convinced that she was a witch. I don’t remember why, but I thought she was. I would fake stomach aches to stay home, and that year, my attendance was pretty bad. I got pretty good at faking sickness though, and could get myself to throw up without too much trouble.

Third grade. Mrs. Joy. Had her for a regular teacher and also for reading. I liked her too. But basically I liked all my elementary teachers and they liked me because I was pretty smart and I wasn’t too noisy or bad or anything. I “behaved”. This element of my character endured for quite a few more years, until I developed the biting sarcasm and dry wit that I exhibit so often today. But back then I was pretty good. Needless to say,the fact that I was a good kid and that I was pretty smart - those qualities did not endear me to a few peers, and I suffered some backlash taunting from the future jocks and potheads of the world. Maybe that’s an unfair statement. Oh well.

* * *

Coming back now after a little time away...I ran out of steam a little bit...pathetic, isn’t it? After only 4 pages? Yeah. Having my doubts now. You see, I have class again tomorrow for the first time in about 3 months. It’s August 27th today, and I have class at 9am. And I’m getting a little .... I don’t know...? Hesitant maybe? I don’t know how often I’m going to be able to work on this in the near future, or even if I’m going to want to. I just started this thing today, on a whim, and wrote a few pages. And now I’m already running out of gas, so to speak. But at least now it’s on my computer - saved - and not on notebook paper. So it’ll take a few more steps to get rid of it this time. Well now I’m just rambling. This is bad. Oh I don’t know - I think I’m just going to talk about what I want to talk about now. I’ll re-order the whole thing later if I want to keep the chronological continuity thing going. But right now I think I’m just going to .....go....

I write a lot of emails...a lot of them are depressing and rather pointless - kind of like this book....you might notice my reliance on ellipses. You might even get tired of them. But I’m trying to let you inside my head, in a way - and to let you know where I actually trail off. And I think they’re better than just fading away with stupid words. Better stupid dots than stupid words, you ask? Well, yes.

But anyway...emails. Yes. I write a lot of emails to people, and it’s like my therapy - getting it down and reading it in text form. I know that once it’s down there that it doesn’t carry the same weight as it does in my mind - I mean like when other people read it, I don’t think that they can truly understand the way that I’m thinking when I’m putting it down, but I have the need to present it to them anyway - for some unknown reason. And I guess that’s the reason that I don’t have a journal. Because if I had a journal, I’d probably just show it to people - stuff that I wanted them to read. And then it’s not really like a journal, if you’re going to show it to everyone.

Right? I don’t know. I guess that’s what I think. Better for me to put it down in this form (and I don’t know if I’m really even going to submit it to anyone - but I’m almost sure I’m going to let people read it) and let everything go and let everyone read everything - not just the stuff that I want them to read. So if you are reading this - I mean YOU - please remember that last part when you read the other stuff that might be in here.

It might not be all good - in fact it’s probably not. Just like all the stuff that I’m going to put in here certainly isn’t putting me in that great of a light. Nobody’s perfect, even though I used to think - a long time ago - that I was pretty damn close...ha. Yeah.

So maybe this is going to be like an open letter to everyone I’ve ever known and has made a considerable impression on me. Look at it that way. Or maybe it’s a suicide note for when I decide to get a gun and pull the trigger. Ha. Who knows? It’s certainly not out of the realm of possibility. What do you think everyone’ll say if they read this and I’m gone?

“What a bastard!”
Maybe “Hmm.”
Or even “Oh well. He wasn’t that well-adjusted anyway. Maybe it’s better that way.”

Well, probably not. But you never know.

I’ve been told by a few people that when they read the stuff that I write, they can hear my voice saying it - they can hear me in their minds’ ears. (Odd expression isn’t it? The usual expression is, of course, “the mind’s eye”. Okay, maybe it’s not so odd. Nevermind.)

That’s another thing - might as well get into that now too. I hate it whenI’m having a serious discussion with someone and they start to say something and then they catch themselves and say “nevermind” or “forget it”. It bugs the hell out of me and I can never seem to let it go. Some people can, but not me. It eats away at me, and I just know that the something they’re holding back is something vitally important to my understanding of how they really feel and what they’re really thinking. It just had to be. Or so it seems.

Hmm. I just visited a few websites, and as time moves on, I’m getting a little less hopeful about this thing actually making it to the marketplace at all. It seems that you can’t actually just submit something to a publisher. It seems that you have to have some sort of literary agent first before you get anywhere. And then your literary agent makes the actual submission to the publisher. So this is going to be kind of complicated if I actually finish it and send it off.

_____

And that's all there was. I guess I was discouraged to the point of not continuing, or probably I was just as lazy as I am now.

I'll Be There, Man

From The New York Times:

A few weeks ago, Steve Weitzman, a New York concert promoter, heard that Arthur Lee, the singer and songwriter of the 1960's psychedelic-rock band Love - never big stars, but much admired by critics and other musicians - had leukemia, and he began to put together a benefit concert to help cover Mr. Lee's medical expenses. A date of June 23 at the Beacon Theater in Manhattan was set, and the roster quickly began to fill up: Ryan Adams, Ian Hunter, Yo La Tengo, Nils Lofgren and Garland Jeffreys have already been confirmed.

But one of the most enthusiastic volunteers was Robert Plant of Led Zeppelin. He said he would happily sing with anyone, and then, Mr. Weitzman said, "he said something I never imagined Robert Plant would say: 'Is it O.K. if I do any Led Zeppelin songs?' " The answer was a vigorous yes.

Family Resemblance

I thought I'd post some pictures of my grandfather and dad (Ron Sr. and Ron Jr.) My grandpa always calls my dad 'junior' and it drives him nuts. His dislike for that was what landed me with a somewhat more unusual name.

Above, gramps is talking to the local TV station at the dedication of a historical marker he had put a lot of time and money into obtaining. I won't get into it too much, but I'm sure he would if you asked him.


Binoculars and Hawaiian shirt. All the essentials. I really need to get one of him playing the banjo in his band.


And here's my dad (on the left) - I believe this was taken in Nevada. He goes all over the place for moose, elk, and bighorn sheep hunts. 

More Memorial Day Barbeque Pictures

No, I realize I'm not really qualified to wear sleeveless shirts, but it was pretty freaking hot that day.


Something must be hilarious.


Awww....
We did a few different takes before Nate was able to display minimal Turckface, but this one turned out pretty well, I think. 

View of the City from the Castle Wall

 

Classy Place

You can see my wonderful hotel room at the Krystal in Prague. Straight out of the Soviet era, complete with fake wood paneling in the shower.


..and a lovely pink blanket on my bed. 

Charles Bridge, Prague

I talked to Laura (of Journey sing-a-long fame) from Chicago last night, and it seems that she's going to Prague in August. I said I would send her some information on places to go, and in looking over the blog posts from when I returned, I was surprised that I hadn't put more pictures up. So here are a few more.


According to my Lonely Planet guide, the Charles Bridge was completed around 1400. It was designed by Peter Parker (probably not Spider-Man's alter-ego). You can see Prasky Hrad/Prague Castle in the background.


The book reminds us that most of the statues are copies of originals that are preserved in Vysehrad and at Fairgrounds Lapidarium. It also repeats a popular myth that rubbing the plaque of Jan of Nepomuk's statue will guarantee a return to the city. The authors dryly note that purchasing a plane ticket might be more reliable. 

Long Time Coming

...and don't I look pleased. This was the only picture taken of my graduation. I didn't have the patience necessary at the time to teach my father how to mess with my camera. I waited just about a full minute for him to take this picture and then I said, 'no more...' 

Memorial Day Barbeque

James H, Laura Bl, Joe H, Turck, Lindsay on Joe's porch.




Nate, Joe, and I went through roughly 40 beers that night in a few hours. It was so hot that they just kept going down like water. I grilled steaks, and Joe took care of the chicken and eggplant. Everything was very good. 

Dead End Roads

I haven't been doing much blogging since I've been back home. The first few weeks back from DC, I wasn't doing too much at all. Mostly sleeping a lot and thinking about finishing my paper for the Washington Semester class, but not actually doing it. Well, I finally finished that a few days after graduation... I'll let you work that one out for yourself.

Anyway...since then - I've assiduously avoided any and all attempts to force me into getting a real job. I know I'm an idiot for wanting 'one more summer' because I've had three extra summers already by just about anyone's reckoning. However, I'm a lazy bastard and it's unlikely I'm going to change.

About three weeks ago, the money started to run out and I talked to Aaron about working with him up at the lake, and he said he could definitely use the help. So I've been up there fairly regularly since then working outside and avoiding too many thoughts about my future or what I should be doing with my degree besides pitching lakeweed or landscaping.

When I get home, I have very little desire to do anything aside from showering and then sitting down with a book or watching the Yankees game.

So to answer the questions that everyone seems to ask me...

No, I'm not doing much at all. No, I haven't really been looking for a job. Yes, I'll get one eventually, or at least try. No, I don't want to do it right now. I'm content doing a little manual labor during the day and going out with friends for a few beers at night. And no, I don't want to grow up.

These pictures were taken before I was working regularly with Aaron at the lake. Sometimes when I have the time, I like to go up to the end of Ericsson Road in Kennedy and read. It's peaceful and usually very quiet. It's a dead-end road. It loops at the end, and there's an abandoned barn, which you can see below.

Wendy's parents, as well as Brett's Uncle Kent, Aunt Diana, and Grandparents. It is also the same road that the famous Studio is on; if you don't know about the Studio, you're missing out.

Maybe I'll get some pictures of that up in the near future.

I said that the road is usually quiet, but in the short time that I was up there reading my book, two different vehicles came up around the loop to scope me out. One slowed and stopped. A man and woman were inside.

Woman (smiling): It's a nice afternoon.

Me: Yes, indeed it is.

Man (staring at my book, then at me): You're just readin'?

Me: Yes, sir - just reading.

The truck slowly started forward as the window went up.

As far as I know, the road is not private. I was pulled off to the side on a public road, but apparently someone in their car on a dead-end country road is suspicious. Could be a terrorist, you know.



And a self-portrait...

 

WTF?

Also featuring 'Praise the Lord Pizza' and 'Satan's Chili'...?

Notice the For Sale sign....who would want to get rid of a gold mine like that place?

I took this picture from my car, and you can see the reflection from the inside of the windshield, but I didn't really want to get out of my car to snap the photo.