Friday, August 29, 2008

Observable Science


So, IKEA sponsors a water taxi from Red Hook (where it's located) to Manhattan.

It's a pretty neat ride and that it's free makes it all that much easier to use.

IKEA also has Swedish meatballs.

Masquerade


Door to a really awesome looking bar in Red Hook.

It was down the street from IKEA.

Walk This Way


Look at this painting I drew with my head!

Simple Pleasures



Some kind of floating museum on the seas of Red Hook.

Despite its posted hours claiming one thing, it was closed.

Choose Your Own Adventure

A Tough Racket


Squirge!

Fiesta Forever


Totally living it up on Beard Street.

Catch & Release



So, in Red Hook, I got directed to a closed off area where carnival rides were housed.

Not content with seeing these instruments of mirth caged away, I broke in (read: slipped through the very loosely padlocked closed fence) and liberated them pictorially!



Cookin' Up Trouble


He sentences his brothers and sisters to death fresh daily.

Uninvited Guests


Word to Burl Ives!

Operators Standing By


THE CUBE stops in Red Hook.

Lack of Shame


Poop be not proud!

Everywhere, I Tells Ya


GasBot is lonely in these tough economic times.

Message in a Bottle


A resident of Red Hook, Letty, has some c-mail.

Alice Cooper


Bloop bloop bloop!

A Simple Volcano

Be more generous!

Be more!

Be!

Thursday, August 21, 2008

Part Three:

The trip back to Austin from New Orleans via Craigslist, last August, was fun.

After a few failed starts, doubts about the trip, and a few emails and phone messages, I was able to catch a ride with Katya.

Katya was from some part of Eastern Europe and had ended up in New Orleans. She came post-Katrina to help out and had been working ever since with a homeopathic doctor, who was providing low-cost health care to residents of the Lower Ninth Ward, which was pretty much the most hard hit of areas.

Our journey to Austin was mostly uneventful and we had some good conversations.

I think the most entertaining thing was when Katya, a tiny but smart and spunky girl, met Trp, who I was staying with in Austin while I was there.

Katya had a friend in Austin that she was supposed to get a hold of. They just never connected and I told her that she could probably crash with us.

We got to Trp's place at some groggily late hour. Trp was still up shooting out emails and the like.

Katya thanked him for letting her crash and she asked where she should sleep.

Somewhat abruptly and with his wonderful madness, he replied, "I don't give a shit!"

She looked at him somewhat confusedly.

"You can sleep anywhere - I don't give a shit!"

And, she did.

Quicky Real-Time Update, Part Two:

I woke up early the next day (Wednesday, August 20th) and found out that there was not going to be another train to Austin on Thursday (save for a train that was $175 more expensive than my ticket and that took the ridiculous route of New Orleans to Chicago to Austin).

Vdn suggested that I check out Greyhound, which hadn't even popped into my head. I did so and it turned out that tickets to Austin were comparable to the Amtrak ticket that I had purchased.

I canceled my Amtrak ticket and held off on getting a Greyhound ticket. I decided to shoot out a quick, last-minute shout on Craigslist.

Last August, I spent the month in Austin. Being so close to New Orleans, though, I figured that it would be sweet to see Wll and Vdn, friends from Phoenix, and to visit a city that I'd never visited before.

I had used Craigslist to coordinate a roundtrip roadtrip (with two different people both ways) between Austin and New Orleans.

My ride to New Orleans was a thirtysomething, slackerish businessman. He had done some post-grad work at a school in Florida, but did his undergrad studies in Atlanta. He (then-)currently lived in Austin doing tech stuff and had been to NOLA a billion times over.

He shared some of his crazy times in the French Quarter with me over our more than six hours in a car together. It wasn't all talking and hanging out; things were well placed with trading off driving duties, napping, and listening to music and other CDs.

The guy (whose name I can't remember) actually gave me a spoken word CD - it was of a lecture by Allen Ginsburg, discussing the nature of art, life, and their intersection. He said that he wanted me to have it after we had talked about improvisation and theatre.

So, that was neat.

We eventually found Wll and Vdn's place in Bywater. Or we found the address they had given, at least. No one was around.

I knocked on the door a few times and there was no answer at all.

I did find the door open, though. I figured that maybe they had stepped out and left the door open for me. That seems like a southern hospitality thing for folks to do.

My new friend, wanting to make sure that I was at the right place, kind of popped into their shotgun-style house (each room leads into the next, all in a row) and made his way toward the farthest room, poking his head around.

He popped his head into the bathroom and I heard a distressed "Excuse me!" emit from it, followed by a slammed door.

A few moments later, Wll emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

The door had mistakenly been left open and he was about to hop into the shower.

When my roadtrip companion boldly popped in, Wll thought he was being robbed.

It all got worked out, and my friend went on his way toward Florida.

Quicky Real-time Update:

I'm at the Houston Greyhound Station - I've hit plane, train, and automobile status!

I had a ticket for a train from New Olreans to Austin, but I would've had to leave yesterday at Noon, which would've given me only 15 hours in the Crescent City - boo.

So, I canceled my Amtrak reservation for a full refund (supposedly - I've yet to see it pop up) and bought a bus ticket.

I spent 3 hours getting to Wll and Vdn's place in the Garden District from The Country Club in Bywater. The first half was just spent hanging out with Ambr and Mtch - walking with them back to their bikes on Decatur and Esplanade just inside the French Quarter.

I'm getting ahead of myself!

I got into New Orleans on Tuesday evening, and after getting settled and oriented (with a quick goodbye to Mtch and Ambr - we exchanged info), I struck out and met Wll and Vdn at the Rue de la Course coffeehouse on Magazine.

I got there a few minutes before them.

Rue was essentially a sea of websurfing laptop folks.

I headed inside toward the community board to see if there were any cool shows going on. My first time in New Orleans, also visiting Wll and Vdn last August, I picked up a flyer for a house show where Paul Baribeau was playing.

I knew nothing about Baribeau (Google him!), but the flyer mentioned Plan-It X Records. Plan-It X Records is a small, indie punk label and one of the guys who runs it is in a band by the name of Ghost Mice. They're pretty sweet, but they also happen to be brohams with AJJ and they had (then) recently put out a split CD.

Wll, Vdn, and I trekked over to the Garden District (they lived in Bywater at the time) to some random address that was on the flyer.

We came to the address and it was a house.

We popped in and we were easily the oldest folks there.

We were only about 5-1o years older than everyone else there, but I think we awkwardly stuck out a little bit.

We made our contribution and found that taco-making time was over. The show was advertised on the flyer as a pot luck. We had stopped by the store to pick up some random snacks. We opened them up and started passing them around.

There were a couple of other performers on that night's bill and they were wonderful, but I just don't remember who they were.

I remember Paul Baribeau.

Best classified as a folk punk (I guess) singer-songwriter, he's also a really compelling performer.

Wll had come along somewhat reluctantly - he's not a fan of live music, is what he said. Baribeau's performance, though, effectively brought his earnest, honest, and personal songs to life, and I definitely saw Wll being moved by that. He even picked up one of Baribeau's CDs after his performance.

We hung out for a bit there, even talking to a guy that Vdn and I had met earlier that afternoon at the Plan B bike co-op. Plan B is housed in the same place as the Iron Rail, a volunteer-run community / indie book & record store in Bywater. The Iron Rail is where I initially picked up the flyer for the show.

Wow - now, I'm getting behind myself!

As I started browsing the community board at Rue de la Course, I heard a voice behind me peep up, "Js!"

It was Wll and Vdn!

It was great to see Wll, but Vdn was most striking. She had on a big floppy green sunhat, an adorable yellow dress, and green shiny rubber galoshes that matched her sunhat.

We hugged and then started to figure out where to settle down or whether to bounce for food and/or drink.

We ultimately decided to head to a bar and sandwich place just down the street. I don't remember its name, but we headed to their balcony patio and enjoyed their happy hour.

Rather than making it a big night, we opted to head home and get settled (I still had my stuff on me, including my gigantic, ever-growing bag).

Before turning in, I mentioned that I was technically supposed to leave at midday the next day, but that I thought I could just "miss" my train (again) and catch the next day's train at the same time.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Grab Some Visine! aka History Eraser Button aka Ulysses Jr.

Started: 11:35am - Wednesday, August 19th
Ended: 5:45pm - Wednesday, August 19th
Oh yeah, I forgot: There is no beginning.
Also: There is no end.

I've been trying to text my editor for the past couple of hours to let him know that my assignments are going to be getting to him in the afternoon once I have wifi access. Because this train is on the move (and my wonky service), I haven't been able to grab a signal long enough to have any texts actually go through.

I hardly ever drink coffee and I just had a cup.

Here are the few times I've had coffee:

One time, after an awesome all-night Dangerville rehearsal / bender, Mchll asked if I wanted coffee. Having had a full night of fun and shenanigans with a full day of future hijinks ahead of us (and being a fan of little rituals like hangover coffee and going outside to smoke), I took her up on it.

It was delicious and the perfect thing after such a night!

When I've visited New Orleans (after never having visited - I've been there twice in the last year, and am on a train headed there), I always stop by the famous place that serves beignets. It's the oldest coffeeshop in the U.S. I can't have their beignets without their signature cafe au lait.

One night when Remainders and Galapagos were in town for the New Orleans Improv Festival, i couldn't get to sleep. So, I went on an all night journey just walking across New Orleans.

I passed countless abandoned warehouses and so many places of emptiness, where weeds had overtaken and grown around whatever was left behind.

I actually ended my dusk to dawn walkabout at that coffeeshop and had beignets and cafe au lait. I probably should've started there.

That whole next day, by happenstance, I ended up walking all over New Orleans again. Instead of the warehouse district just west of the French Quarter, I kept walking from the French Quarter to Uptown, basically the neighborhoods that used to be Juvenile's stomping grounds.

((((CALLIOPE))))

The last time I had coffee was at Cozy's New York (can't remember which exact area, but it wasn't as far south as the lower east side, but it was definitely south of Chelsea). Without a place to stay on my final night in New York, I knew I was going to be up all night and that I had some writing due in the morning, I ordered some chicken rice soup and coffee.

The soup was excellent (apparently, it's what Cozy's is known for) and I managed to neuter the coffee enough with sugar and cream to make it palatable.

Wait!

There was one other time I drank coffee ... a couple of months ago, i went over to Jhn's place to record some songs. Seamus was there, too. We spent all night working with Jhn's mini-studio. We only really worked on one song, and it's a song that is incomplete to this day.

Anyway, we woke up and slogged through the morning.

Ncl, Jhn's then-wife, was nice enough to run to McDonald's to pick up some egg mcmuffins and coffee. I'm not the biggest fan of how McDonald's does business, but their breakfast was hard to turn away. Also, Ncl had worked at McDonald's since age 14 and at one time was a higher up there. So, I think she still had hookups there.

Anyway, everyone was kind of joking about how I took my coffee - with sugar and a ridiculous amount of cream, until it was almost tan.

This morning, Mtch and Ambr bought me coffee and we spent a couple of hours talking.

Mtch and Ambr are from Winona, Minnesota, They're actually originally from South Dakota. They're into bikes, too!

I initially met them at Union Station in Chicago.

I had inadvertently written down the wrong time for what was supposed to be Monday's departure from Chicago. I thought the train left at 8:30pm. It actually left at 8pm.

Coming from dinner with Fzzy, Erca, and Rbcca, I knew I was cutting it short (I arrived at the Amtrak ticket counter at about 8:15pm).

As the ticket agent informed me that the train had left at 8pm toward New Orleans, just as it does every night (because I regularly keep up on Amtrak's regular departures from Chicago), a couple showed up behind me and the male said, "Yeah, we're in the same boat."

As we walked away from the ticket counter, we chatted briefly.

I didn't actually get their names until this morning, but a day and a half earlier:

Guy who I would come to know as Mitch: "Do you have a place to stay?"

Me: "Yeah, I think so." (In reality, things were kind of up on the air - I had no guaranteed place to stay, but I had feeling things would work out ... they did) You?"

"Yeah, we drove from Minnesota, so I think we're going to crash in our van."

They had tattoos and were kind of tan and were in surplus store-like attire, while carrying bags and had gigantic olive green canvas backpacks. They totally seemed punk rock (they are!) and they actually looked like they were from New Orleans - there are a lot of kids and folks that have that kind of hard-scrabble / communal living look.

We were heading out of Union Station in different directions.

"I guess we'll see you tomorrow," Mtch

(I just got a text from my editor! One of my texts got through - hours after my initial try. We're in Jackson, Mississippi about an hour late. I wonder if this station will have wifi - the one in Champaign, IL did. Also, since I'm updating in real time, I'm listening to the three Andrew Jackson Jihad CDs I was able to upload before leaving Phoenix, Candy Cigarettes and Cap Guns, Issue Problems, and Only God Can Judge Me.)

I kind of cut getting to the train station short on Monday night, too.

(Actually, I think I'm gonna head out to hang out with the smokers and stretch my legs. I'm not getting a wifi signal at all here.)

(I got to talk to a gentleman from Chicago. Draped in the requisite Cubs jersey, he mentioned that Jackson, MS was hot. To me, it was pretty nice. It's about early to mid 90s with a good dose of humidity. Chicago weather, though, had been really wonderful over the past week. I don't think it even broke 90 degrees.)

I had to make the decision to grab one last bite to eat in Chicago or head to the train.

Since I had just copped a jug of water and some trail mix (how did M&Ms end up in trail mix?), I figured I'd be okay. Also, the prospect of getting left behind again and further shortening my time in New Orleans wasn't something I wanted to risk.

Getting on board was really easy - almost too easy. In conversation with Mtch and Ambr, we talked about how someone could totally sneak on and ride the rails for free. I'd imagine that one would have to be somewhat familiar with how things work, though, and would have had to have ridden Amtrak before.

I plopped myself down in the nearest seat I could find.

Riding coach on Amtrak is way better than coach on Greyhound or on an airplane (except for maybe jetBlue!). There's plenty of leg room and the seats seemed designed to actually seat people comfortably.

(Oh yeah ... at some point, once I settled in, I dug into the trail mix I bought. I got one last fist full and I noticed that the Mexican dude from across the aisle was eyeing my bag of trail mix as I put it away. I then pledged not to eat any more trail mix until I could share it with whoever might be around.

Actually, a mini-vow I've made to myself on my travels -- though, not always adhering to it -- is to only eat with other people whenever I need to eat. It always seems much more enjoyable and, in some ways, healthier to do so.

(Also, food is for sharing!)

I am a fan of rituals, big and small. From the church services to the little quirky things we share with our friends, all of these little rituals we take part in are important because we make them important - even if we don't really actively think of them as important at all.

Michael Jordan, when he would shoot a free throw, would dribble the ball 2 or 3 times (usually twice), spin the ball into shooting position in his hands (his right hand as his main source of power and the left as a quick and dirty alignment helper), and he'd slightly dip his body into a briefly cocked position by bending at his knees and let the free throw fly, his right hand following through.

(My Feral Kin's The Blackened Flat Tax is so fucking good! If you don't have it, please head to The Trunk Space and pick it up.)

I was such a huge Jordan fan that I would shoot my free throws the same way, though with much less accuracy. (I meant to visit the Jordan statue in front of the United Center, but just never got around to it.)

I remember one time when I was coaching openings and I was trying to convey the importance of investing in them. Openings in improv, especially organic openings, are prone to falter if there's not absolute commitment to them. One person being half-assed about an opening is almost as bad as a whole group of people being half-assed. You can almost see the one half-assed person being a drain and sucking up the energy of the group and the performance with their lack of commitment.

(Merely replicating theatre? Merely replicating what's been laid out before rather than exploring what could be possible beyond what has been? Sorry - this is a note to myself.)

To stress the importance of investing and committing, I brought up the analogy of rituals. The actual actions and things within a ritual, the components, might not have any actual meaning themselves, but taken as a whole and imbued with what we put into them - that's where their meaning is, um, meaningful and touches us deeper than that which is everyday or profane.

One person claimed that they weren't into rituals of any kind - that they didn't believe in any kind of spiritual rituals and that they couldn't find any meaning in them, and thus, my example was unhelpful.

First off, I kind of failed to articulate that I didn't mean just spiritual or religious rituals, but rituals of all scopes - the big ones to the little ones we share with friends. Geez, we even each have our own rituals when it comes to greeting one another or kissing someone we're into.

Secondly, with that in mind, I know that the person had their own rituals of those stripes.

Rituals from across the spectrum, I think, exist to help us navigate the world around us. To have some kind of meeting place (not necessarily a physical one) when two or more people / entities encounter each other and interact - a way to be in communion with people and things beyond ourselves.

If we're in our own little hollow world, what have we gained?

I think that's one of the things I love about improvisation and theatre (not that they're opposed - each, at their best, embody and encompass each other). Within the performance, there's a relationship between those who are creating, what they're creating,and between what's been created and what will be created.

The performance itself is interacting -- affecting and being affected -- by the space its being created in, the energy of that space, the audience, and the energy that they have.

It's all of these galaxies overlapping each other, eating each other, being consumed, being churned up, being settled down, countless undulating waves of creation being broadcast from infinite satellites in a palace of mirrors, nothing and everything at once.

("I can sense a spirit of a soft spell delivered on a silver tongue/
help me forward to your hungry ghost that caters to your human needs/
on my knees I exchange my soul for some gold and your ribs of wicker/

you will forget my taste from when you wake in your bed of fire/

And I will carve it from the ivory in my heart and make a sexual display of recurring dreams I had thrice/

Children, make your way into the wilderness I crave, the coming of the days when your sins won't save you/

Dark world, grazing in your god's land/

purpose far from nooks and holes in the white sands/
Dark world, grazing in your god's land/

purpose far from nooks and holes in the white sands/


Take your cousin Flan and call him Isaac with your blood and myrrh/"


- "Soft Spell" by My Feral Kin)

Um, to sum up, everything has meaning ... even that which is intended to not have a specific meaning or any meaning at all becomes contextualized and birthed into meaning.

So, when I woke up this morning after about six hours of sleep, (I was up until 3am writing ... I even started to do an audio journal until the batteries in my microcassette recorder died.), I decided to head to the lounge / dining car to do a last bit of editing my pieces and just in case one of the upcoming stops was at a station that had wifi.

("You are an integral part of your community!" - "Total Winner" by Treasure Mammal)

There, I ran into Mtch and Ambr.

Ambr, though we hadn't actually introduced each other and gotten each other's name, invited me over to sit with them.

We spent time catching up on the past 36 hours.

I apologized for not being able to get them a place to crash in Chicago.

They said not to sweat it. They had planned to crash in their van, but they spent that night bar hopping around Chicago and, in their drunken state, ended up dropping over $100 on a hotel room.

Mtch is a musician and is part of the small punk / bike / DIY community in Winona and the surrounding areas.

Ambr is in the military and, despite her young age (they're both probably in their mid 20s), seems on track to become a sergeant. A few days ago, she had just finished two weeks of training in Salt Lake City.

They've been together for about 4 years and married for the last 2 and a half. They met in Sioux City and moved to Winona together, just as most people there are prone to do after high school.

They totally bike and have actually brought their bikes with them to bike around New Orleans. I tell them about my first trip to New Orleans, and how me and my friend Vdn (who I'm visiting - her and her husband, Wl, who were a part of the art scene in Phoenix, especially via The Paper Heart (RIP)) biked all around NOLA, and how it was one of the best ways to see the city. The traffic outside of the downtown area is so light, you can bike around with minimal fear of being hit by cars.

I talk about how I've been biking around Phoenix for about a year and how it's the complete opposite of New Orleans.

Mtch remarks that Phoenix is probably filled with a lot of older people in cars that don't really look out for bicyclists. I confirm that, but also make a point to note that Phoenix, over the past 5 - 10 years has gotten younger.

Whereas a lot of people used to grow up in Phoenix and then fly away elsewhere, young folks are now sticking around, seeing that so much stuff is going on that they can be a part of, or at least, that can keep them entertained occasionally. Also, plenty of young people are moving here for neat jobs and the lower cost of living (relative to bigger cities, even if we're like number 5).

We talked about the indie music / punk / DIY / bike scenes in Phoenix, Winona, Chicago, and Salt Lake City.

("I'm trying to be brave 'cause when I'm brave, other people feel brave ..." - "Caving In" by Kimya Dawson

Another reason to make strong choices and commit to what's going on, openings included - on stage, what we do has the potential to inspire others and embolden the group and propel everyone beyond what they thought they were capable of.)

They've never been to New Orleans and I'm trying my best to remember cool things that I've been able to see there, and to pass them on. I tell them about the buskers and the Plan B bike co-op (in the same warehouse as the Iron Rail independent book and music store), which they're totally into.

I tell them about the Trunk Space and how it's become an amazing center for so much creativity and amazing music, whether local or folks touring from out of town.

Mtch takes down their information - in the future, he wants to tour the country.

I mention how the last time I was in New Orleans last November that I ran into some people at a book fair in the French Quarter that looked familiar. I would often go up to them and this was a typical exchange:

"Are you a musician or are you a performer?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever performed in Phoenix?"

"Yes."

"Have you performed at the Trunk Space?"

"Yes!"

I'm about to offer them some trail mix when they excuse themselves to go put in some orders for food.

When they come back to the booth, Mtch offers me a cup of coffee.

Though I don't usually drink their coffee, I can't see myself declining their kindness.

I offer up my trail mix and Mtch asks if I mind if he snags mostly M&Ms.

I tell him that I don't mind at all ...

"How did M&Ms become part of trail mix?"

"I know!" Mtch replies.

(SO!

I just went over to a couple of ladies in one of the other booths, Beth and Caitlyn (I won't find this out for a few minutes).

We've been stopped, blocking a street in, I think, Mississippi, for quite a while. We're only 10 minutes away from the station according to Tony, a frequent rail rider, who'll come over in a few minutes.

I ask them if they heard any kind of announcement explaining what the hold up was.

There hasn't been any announcement, but apparently someone in the final car has passed away.

There's a coroner back there taking pictures and the police are interviewing people and taking down names and contact numbers. I guess, though, the person might have died of natural causes, since they're not sure, they have to treat it like a possible crime.

If I hadn't been up here, writing all this, I would totally be in the final car.

After a few minutes of talking -- the ladies are traveling across the country on Amtrak, and I briefly mention how that was my initial idea for August -- we exchange names just as Tony drops by.

Beth has an olive complexion, brown hair, and has a nice smile. She's dressed in a brown shirt and jeans.

Caitlyn is blonde, has here long hair pulled back into a pony tail. She's dressed in a red, scoop neck dressy, blouse thing and wearing shorts. She's kind of pale but has rosy cheeks.

Tony is in his 40s, his head topped with gray and white hair, and is kind of tall and gangly.

Beth and Caitlyn are from Portland. I ask them if they know Ben Barnett of Kind of Like Spitting. They reply with Andy and Frank (?) Barnett of the band Sexy Pants.

I let them know that I don't know them, but I now want to hear music from a band called Sexy Pants.

I ask them if they're annoyed by all the people who've been moving to Portland, and mention how there must be a Little Phoenix there from all of our contributions.

Though the girls are natives of the northwest, they're not from Portland originally. Caitlyn thinks it's cool that so many people are moving there (she's noticed the influx) as long as they're contributing and being positive. She has noticed that some of the Portland natives seem a little irked.

Tony travels exclusively on train and has been Amtraking it since the 80s when they actually served homemade food in the dining car.

We're 20 minutes away from Hammond, Lousiana.)

Mtch, Ambr, and I talk about the food in New Orleans.

I tell them how amazing it is, but can't think of specific places or addresses to send them to.

I do tell them about Kung Pao Po' Boy in Uptown, near the La Nuit Theater (that's merely a nickname).

They serve amazing po' boys (their shrimp po' boy is ridiculously piled on with shrimp - like more will fall out of the sandwich than you're typically served at Red Lobster), but they also have chinese food, chicken, and pork chops.

It's like Chino Bandito's, except incidentally mixed up rather than intentionally.

Ambr mentions that she used to work for an awesome bakery - until they fired her over some bullshit.

I'm reminded of Ian, and tell them about how he often brings baked goods and fun stuff from the kosher bakery that he works at, to Trunk Space for everyone to have.

We talk about how awesome it is to share food that might otherwise be thrown away.

("People are wasteful - they waste all the food" - "People" by Andrew Jackson Jihad)

Ambr pulls out a chunk of cheese out of a Trader Joe's bag. They ask if they have a knife on me.

I mention that I gave one of mine to my friend, Mchll, and unpacked the other one since I was flying.

The extra attention that my beard gets (and I mention the middle eastern man in Bryant Park who thought I was Egyptian - remember that?).

"Could also be that you're wearing something that says 'bomb squad' on it?" opines Ambr.

(I packed my old faithful gray hoodie for this trip, but to lighten the load, I asked Bll to take it home.

Grg Ind, world traveler, recommended taking a power strip on my train trip (he actually recommends it for traveling in general, noting that, often, hotels and hostels don't have all that many accessible eletrical outlets) and a blanket to hide the mining of energy from those that might care.

I didn't really want to get a blanket, so a couple days before I was to leave Chicago, I started keeping my eye out for hoodies, which could do the same job.

An hour and a half before my train left, I stepped into Land of the Lost, which is a thrift store about 500 yards away from the place that Mchl was subletting, and that I was now locking up before I left - the last out-of-towner to be there.

I looked around and, other than some sweet but overpriced baseball jerseys (including one that had "Let's Ball!" across the chest), I didn't find anything.

I decided to give one last look-see and then I found it!

A black, zip up hoodie with a graphic on the left side of the chest that said "Bomb Squad - City of Gotham Police Department."

The Dark Knight was shot in Chicago and I secretly hoped that the hoodie is one of those items that was made up for cast and crew members. (Also, way to keep a secret hope secret!).

I bought it up and have been rocking it, as temperature dictates, ever since.)

Mtch asks for his satchel, which is right next to me, and going through its contents, finds a knife. He starts divvying up the cheese to share.

"'Yeah," Mtch starts, "we actually brought a bunch of knives. We were told that we would need them."

"Before we got a hotel room, we were planning on just camping out," Ambr explained.

I mentioned Vdn's friend Jssca.

(We're passing through Kenna, LA - I saw some Mardi Gras trailer-floats that were sitting on someone's property!)

Jssca, actually lived in Phoenix for a time. She lived at either The Firehouse or ThoughtCrime (back when it existed, and wasn't squeezed out by fancy developers), which is how Vdn knew her.

Just walking through Vdn's neighborhood, just southeast of the French Quarter, in the Ninth Ward, we stumbled into her unplanned.

We had had plans to walk over to the gay country club that had an awesome swimming pool. It's where Wl and Vdn were hanging out pretty frequently to escape the swampy heat.

We invited Jssca, but she wanted to drop off her bike first.

Since we would all be together, she also wanted to drop off her gun - she had totally been packing heat!

It's pretty understandable - some of the neighborhoods can seem pretty scary. Outside of downtown and the French Quarter, not much is well lit (other than some of the residents - HEY OH!). Also, post-Katrina conditions had led to a rise in robberies and other violent crimes - crimes that were already prevalent in the Crescent City.

Mtch and Ambr asked me how things looked post-Katrina.

I replied that the French Quarter, being elevated, escaped too much damage and what damage there was had been fixed and restored.

In Downtown, businesses were slowly starting to come back and there were quite a few, from restaurants to banks, whose signage mentioned that they were coming back.

Outside of the Quarter and Downtown, though, I mentioned that those places that took the hardest hits, especially in the Lower Ninth, shamefully, didn't look like there was much progress.

FEMA trailers still were around and houses and businesses still were mostly abandoned.

On the other side of town, whole projects had been abandoned.

I believe that I walked through the Calliope Projects, which was like a ghost town ...

They just let me get back into the last car of the train where my stuff was. While I was writing in the dining car, they had cleared it out and once I headed back, they decided not to let anyone in there until we were getting close to New Orleans.

I can see the Superdome slinking by.

Mtch & Ambr, and I have exchanged information, and I hope to get to hang out with them and see the sights with them!

"It's all of these galaxies overlapping each other, eating each other, being consumed, being churned up, being settled down, countless undulating waves of creation being broadcast from infinite satellites in a palace of mirrors, nothing and everything at once."


This I Command!


Where's the disco ball at?

WooOOOoo!


I should hope so!

Splashy



This mosaic has one of my favorite variations of the Statue of Liberty since Ghostbusters 2.



The Greatest Thing to Happen


A Red Hook scooter emblazoned with the title of one of my favorite Andrew Jackson Jihad songs.

My favorite verse:

"People are my religion/
because I believe in them/
people are my enemies/
and people are my friends/
I have faith in my fellow man/
and I only hope that he has faith in me/"

People!

Decoy!


A faux squirrel hanging out in Red Hook on the morning of Monday, August 11, 2008.

Squirrel!

Chipping Away

Jnnfr J. was the first crush I had on a girl who didn't live in my state.*

In my sophomore year of college, a group of us that lived at the now-demolished Mariposa Hall at ASU organized a service spring break trip. Instead of doing it up on a spring break whose sole purpose was drinking, partying, and hooking up, we opted to take a trip to another city and did a service project there.

Our group, which consisted of some really good friends, a girl I wound up dating, a hall director that I had a crush on, and small handful of friendly strangers, chose to fly out to Boston to work with Community Servings, an organization dedicated to delivering healthy meals to homebound folks stricken with HIV and AIDS.

It was actually the first time I flew on a plane. That

Single speck of stardust had gently kissed her left nostril


* Other than Alyssa Milano

Monday, August 18, 2008

Asimov


VacBot droids it up in Red Hook!

Ducks Don't Have Ears


They also can't read or are very rebellious.

Around Corners


THE CUBE decides to visit the tranquil waters near Red Hook.

Thin Sliced Reality



Papercraft!


Rubies


THE CUBE manifests itself and tries to fit in with some baby chicks!

Waving Hello


I totally had to use my digital zoom to get this picture, but you can totally see the Statue of Liberty from the warehouse in Red Hook.

The French give neat birthday gifts!

Follow


Exterior shot of the warehouse surrounded by water!

Security


The warehouse that I was visiting had been broken into a few weeks earlier.

They stole a Playstation 3 that had yet to be used.

Semiotics

This might be apparent to everyone reading this, but it just hit me yesterday while I was taking pictures around Chicago.

I really like to take pictures of signs and signage.

I mean, I really like taking random pictures, but I'm horny for neat and weird signs, I guess.

All of the neat monument and famous sites - I kind of figure that there are tons of awesome pictures that better photographers with better equipment have taken.

I just like to take pictures of things that strike me as fun, weird, unusual, funny, or whatever just amuses me.

Hey, look over there! -------------->

Dance!


A disco ball in a warehouse artist workspace in Brooklyn / Red Hook (Red Hook is a neighborhood / area of Brooklyn).

I saw a bunch of disco balls throughout my travels in New York, each one beckoning dancers.

Multitasking


The Red Hook Bait & Tackle Shop, a fishing store, club, and bar.

A friend of mine who lived in Red Hook for years recommended it to me.

It happened to be in the neighborhood that I woke up in on Monday afternoon.

It was closed when I took this picture - duh.

Inclusion


Bus stop in Red Hook, NY on the morning of Monday, August 11th.

Paul Baribeau

One of my favorite parts of this year's DCM was the singalong that broke out in the green room during the Sunday night post-DCM party.

Songs included were from The Pixies and the Beatles collection, amongst many.

Flutter

I have no idea when the last quasi-real-time update was ...

Yesterday, I went to Work(shop)-in-Progress, an ongoing, weekly improv workshop open to folks on a drop-in basis in Chicago. I had a pretty good time and there was some fun stuff going on.

I actually also ran into an old improv acquaintance, Adm Hggns. Galapagos first met him at the Denver Improv Festival in 2006. Back then, he was performing with Bll Crnnsky. Crnnsky had actually been a part of ComedySportz-Phoenix way back in the day (I wasn't in the improv fold back in them days).

Adm also knows Jcq - they did the iO Summer Intensive together about three years ago.

Anyway, he moved to Chicago about a year ago and has been living the improvisor / actor life out here.

I also ran into some old school puppeteers (one of whom had worked on an old Chicago children's show). One of them (not as old school, but still was rolling with them) knew some of the folks that do double duty in the improv and puppeteering scenes in Phoenix. Connections all around!

Oh yeah!

I got to have lunch (prior to the workshop) with J, Lr, and their daughter, Ang - she's so big and beautiful! It was a treat to catch up with them! That's especially true since my navigational intuition went wacky and I ended up running up and down the same stretch of Lincoln via bus, taxi, and patamobile.

After the workshop, I met up with Fzzy and Erca for dinner. They took me to a bar that doesn't serve its own food, but instead gets it from the steakhouse a few doors down.

I'm not usually one for red meat, but I made an exception for the heavily recommended rib eye steak sandwich. It was a pretty substantial hunk of meat and it was delicious!

A friend of theirs, Rbcca, also joined us in the eating of meat.

Wrapping up there, I promptly dashed to the train station in a cab only to find that I had missed my train by about a half an hour. I had written down the wrong departure time.

I decided to head back uptown and catch some last shows at iO (and caught up with Mchl from Austin who was still in town).

The intern working the box office was nice enough to let me slip in for the end of the Deep Schwa show, which was good and fun.

I was really jazzed to catch Children of a Lesser God, which featured a favorite of mine, Ssn Mssng. It was easily one of the best, most fun, and funniest shows that I've caught in the past few weeks, which has been littered with great shows, filled with good shows, and inundated with shows ranging from medium to bad.

(Also up there was WNEP Production's Metaluna, which was awesome and amazing! I caught that on Saturday - its closing night. In addition to the great play and the great performances, it also featured an actor that had a really small part in The Dark Knight - that was fun.)

After Children, I slipped in for the last bit of 3033. What I saw was good, but there were clearly some callbacks that had been seeded in the part of the show that I didn't see that definitely satisfied and delighted the audience.

I actually ran into Rbcca, who had just met hours earlier.

(My energy is dipping ... coherence slipping ...)

I went off with Mchl and he was nice enough to let me crash at the place he, Cdy, and Stph had sublet. Cdy and Stph had left on Saturday.

I'm actually writing from that very place even though Mchl left to the airport about an hour ago.

He had made copies of the key and so now I have them and can dispose of them when I leave, and I'm trying to get some writing done.

That last part is boring, but lucky me!

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Saturday, August 16, 2008

Busy Work


This is a portrait of Peter "Papa" McManus, I believe (Papa because McManus is still family owned and operated). It's on the back wall of the booth area of McManus.

When I first encountered it, I thought it was a picture of Pope John Paul II with no frills. From the kindly smile to the grandfatherly squinty eyes, it looks like it was just one of those days when the Pope had to head into work to take care of office stuff. Being the Pope can't always be about addressing thousands, cruising in the Pope-Mobile, and being infallible. Sometimes emails have to get sent, faxes have to get read, and conference calls have to get taken.

Neighbors

The UCB Theatre is next to (well actually, under) the Gristedes grocery store on 26th Street & 8th Avenue. Inside Gristedes, there's an animatronic cow that's there to greet you. You simply push a button and it gives you a little spiel welcoming you to the store. If all you've encountered are elderly folks as greeters, you are missing out.

Unspoken

A Prophecy Envisioned

THE CUBE!

All-City

Graffiti in New York is out of control!

Unholy Grails

Squirrel!

This was taken on the lawn in front of the Hudson Guild on 26th Street and 9th Avenue.

He's tauntingly striking the Heisman pose!

Fatherhood


Even though my trip is improv-centric, I don't actually want to post much about shows and the like. This will be one of the few, I hope.

The picture above is from the DCM Press Conference with the UCB, the start of the whole weekend. In Rbrts is holding Jd, Mtt Wlsh's son in his arms. Mtt claimed that he was retiring from performing and Rbrts decided to draft his son into the fold.

Later on in the marathon, Rbrts did a performance of his solo show, Lazy Man. As he tells it, Lazy Man came from so many people putting on their one-person shows and wanting to do the same. The only hitch was not wanting to go through the trouble writing material and workshopping. So, Rbrts decided he would improvise his one-man show - Lazy Man was born!

The first time I saw Lazy Man was at DCM 2002. The show ended up revolving around his pet peeves and, more specifically, The Swarm being the bane of his existance. He spent the better part of his half-hour ranting and raving against them and plotting their demise. It was amazingly hilarious, especially since his wife was a member of The Swarm.

Rbrts is just absolute commitment on stage to whatever is going on and to his emotional point of view. He's a juggernaut.

This year's Lazy Man was a little more laid back, but no less impressive. In fact, it was my favorite show of the whole marathon.

It featured Rbrts being truthful and honest about his anxieties and worries about his responsibilities, successes, and (perceived) failures as a person in middle age, as a husband, and a father. It was refreshing and inspiring to see someone allowing themselves to be completely vulnerable on stage. It was both funny and moving and pretty much everything that we're told to be on stage and that we tell students to be.

Woozy

Our hotel was just a block and a half from the theater and we were on the top floor. Above is the view we had.

On Sunday, our last day in the hotel, we discovered that we could actually open the window.

Mrk, ever the mischief maker (he has a doctorate in bastardry, you know), made a paper airplane out of hotel stationery and sent it spiraling toward the city streets.

It was awesome!

It was airborne for quite a while. It would catch various gusts of winds, some of which kept it levitating like David Copperfield's best efforts. It eventually crashed out of our sights.

***

"Human Kittens" by Andrew Jackson Jihad

Mementos

Before leaving Phoenix, a close friend and one of my favorite people slipped a bracelet on me to take on my travels.

I should totally be taking pictures of it doing all the wild things I've been doing - riding sharks, shooting fire back at dragons, and making roller coasters crash into each other - like a kidnapped lawn gnome. Thus far, though, this is the only picture that I've taken of it.

I like to keep the spirally thing on the inside of my wrist. It keeps it close to my veins, which are connected to my heart. My heart is where my love lives!

Lightning Strike!


THE CUBE manifests itself as Uh Oh!