What are you reading?

I devour books. I dive in through their shimmering surface and stay under as long as I can.

In the past couple of weeks I've completed:

John Christopher's Tripods Books 1-4


I've read and reread this series since I was very young - maybe 20 times. I just picked up a full set to share with our kid on the way.

I've read parts of Einstein's Dreams - this was the book that Becky and I read together in the dawn of our life together and of the day, on my old rooftop.

and Prisoners of Age

We found this book at an Alcatraz Prison photo exhibit.

So what are you reading these days?

Hung with Mom tonight

Becky and I hung out with my Mom this evening. No TV - just talking and that was really nice.

As some of you may know, we gave up our television set about four years ago and have no regrets. We often watch it at Mom's, so this was a nice change.

My Mom had her DNA sampled and is getting it tested for geneology research. It was interesting to speak with her about it.

Beck and I spoke about the possibilities of giving up our car and going all bike and bus. Maybe next April. We'll see. It'd be nice to have one for occaisional use, but I suspect, like a TV, that the only way to sharply curb our dependence is to eliminate it completely from our lives.

I don't want to be a slave to some damn car. I want to be off the oil habit.

Paint on my hands = Instant Gratification

Today we followed through with a neighborhood service project, painting over graffiti and picking up litter.

I worked with Jeremiah Griswold, a Norwood native, and we painted over three graffiti tags here on Norwood. Aaron Klinefelter came along, too, removing a tag from marble with acetone.

On the whole, it was a pretty rewarding experience. Painting over blight is an instant gratification as service work goes. I felt good about it and it was short and sweet.

I enjoyed getting to know Jeremiah, too. He's a youth pastor from Mason (I think) and wants to do an outreach to the kids in Norwood. He's married and has three kids. Former sk8r, btw.

Friday night at the Brown House

What a fun day this has been!

I started off with a bit of desk work at home - honestly I slacked on most of it, but I was off to a meeting with Tim Swallow of Cincy World Cinema. We had lunch at Andy's Mediterannean Grill and a great conversation to boot.

I rode my bike from Norwood down to Eden park and then jetted down to Citybeat after lunch. There really are few things better than racing down a long hill in the Spring, sun beaming, bike moving so fast that the frame shakes.

Citybeat was all about developing the Summer Hot Guide listings - events for the hundred hot days of summer, which I took home to develop this weekend.

Tonight was dinner at the Brown House with the Rains, Bill, Angela and her sister Phyllis. And now Beck and I are watching School of Rock with Bill, Kevin and Izaac.

Steve

It seeks to destroy

The disease seeks to make monsters of us, too

It seeks to make complicit those it cannot make monsters

It seeks to alienate all the rest

And I don't know if the last step may be inevitable

serendipity is the opposite of control

Ok, so I was planning on writing about how I bought professional grade paintbrushes for once in my life and, as a result of having the right tools, I've learned the art of ninja-painting. Working without a net -- I painted - no, I cut in, at the edge of the molding, over a carpet - without a dropcloth or paint guide. And it looks really good...

But, that's not where today's rabbit trail led me. Bread crumbs and all to that actor goofin' on Morpheus as in, "What is the (problem)? Control." And, yeah, that's just what it is.

You see Cameron called me today. Cameron, whose name has never graced this page before, is a friend of sorts of Molly. Quick update in case I didn't blog on this before -- Molly used again about a month ago, was discovered or admitted to it(depending on the version you believe) and was booted from the program. Unofficially.

They called the cops.

So she ran. Or rode, rather, away on her bike and ended up here and there for a couple of weeks before, thanks be to God, she was finally arrested. And she'd been using H twice a day. And she has a heart problem. And her disease led her to try and drag Rich down too...

Anyway, Cameron is this guy. They dated or something, years ago and he has a thing for her and he sent her a cell phone when she was in the program that she later was booted from -- you follow so far? Cell phones aren't allowed, but, "I have to have it," she says - it's a phone from this guy and she needs it to call her fiance, Rich, to feel sane and so on. Of course this thing isn't about her many layers of poison, it's about the onion that belongs to me, so I'll jet through the backdrop and get to the drama part of our show.

Ok, so Cameron gives her the phone. He sends her money when she's on the streets. He asks her to come on down to New Orleans to be with him and Beck and I tell her - or told her, I should say - just how fucking awful a set of choices this really is - and yet she does it anyway and now she's been locked up a week and Cameron calls here. He's asking if we're holding some money for her and I tell him no and he asks if we ever did and I say yes. (I'm not very forthcoming with him)

And I told him in the very shortest way I could spin on the fly, about how she was here, stopped by, I mean, on Election Day - May 2 and how I asked her how much she had on her - we didn't know, mind you, that she'd been tapping her rig again (as they say in the parlance of the streets - or at least my reasonable fascimile) and she tells us, "$70" and I tell her she should leave $60 here and she agrees, admitting that she feels safer without it. And she does this, but comes back two days later saying she wants it all and I told her no and she cursed and got angry and said she couldn't trust me and Becky any more. She later apologized for this. And I was proud that we had stood our ground, and hadn't enabled her.

Back to the call. Cameron asks what we did with the cash and that it was his and I'm like, all of a sudden,just jumping him with how cruddy an idea it is to give a junkie a cell that she used to call her dealer and cash to buy dope and he says to me, "No offense, but I didn't call here to get a lecture," and I'm patting myself on the back for not begining with, "Look, Motherf..." because that's just how white I am and I tell him, "I'm not saying you caused her relapse! I'm telling you what you need to know if you don't want to enable" and he's like, "Look, she was going to get the money one way or another" and I peg him as defensive when it's really me and I can hear the Julius, later, in my head as I replay this conversation asking me, "Does he look like a bitch? Then why are you tryin' to f him like one? Say what one more time!"

Yeah.

I tell him how I'm damn near a pro at rehab and how we may never talk again and...We conclude the call and said little else. And I pat myself on the back for not saying MF! Because, of course, Cameron was right. Yeah, he's limerant obsessive and codependent as all get out and probably sick a few dozen other ways, but I didn't fool him. Of course I was saying that she's in jail now because he fed the addiction's fire. And I'm mad, not for Molly's sake or for his, but for my own selfish motives. I wanted to fix that addiction because then it would prove that I'm smarter than that deamon and I wanted to be that arnarchist/sub pro rehab tech who can fix it all and shit. You down with what I mean? Because to fix it is to thumb my nose at death and remain in control. Control is what it's about and, at least in this case, I was the one who was sick and it's there for me to see. That's why I was rash and didn't handle it better.

And, no, I'm not beating up on myself, it's just that I recognized this and needed to write it down. It was the same control/rashness I had the other day, when things didn't go the way I wanted to on a personal/business call and I say,"We'll have to talk about this later," bitterly, to punt the ball I can't seem to kick. And then, I had hang time and made a choice to get angry - and after this infinite pause I slammed my fist down in anger...because I couldn't control that situation.

Before I finished writing this, Mary Faith calls and after grinning (I can hear this through the phone) about Becky and the baby (an I am, too, at this point) she tells me...about Haloween some years ago...and Stella was born and Stellas father left the hospital to go to his friends house and announce the birth of his daughter and a man opens the door and is wearing a pumpkin on his head (a real one, she says) and Stella's father blurts out the good news to this, the first person he sees and the man removes the pumpkin and it's Stella's uncle who dad hasn't seen in some time, And it's wonderful. And so, you can see that serendipity is the opposite of control. ;)

Sappy Cards

Sappy Cards are just too cool. We found them at the Allied Media Conference?

Anyone want to go to the AMC in June?

Lazy Saturday

Becky and I took today off.

We spent much of the morning with Aaron Klinefelter, hangnig and talking (Aaron and Beck did this) and playing Grand Theft Auto Vice City. (me)

Klinefelter came over and had Saag Paneer with us - Indian spinich/cream sauce and rice with cheese. This time we made it fast with milk and cheddar cheese and the texture was thick and the taste mild. (Those of you who have eaten at our house know it's normally very spicy, though not at at Ken Oster level.)

We slept during the afternoon and I read The City of Gold and Lead.

Carolee's here now and we're hanging out again, drinking Mango Lassi which Beck and I made this evening.

The fruits of my labor

I'm working on my assignmnt for Citybeat today on my frony porch, on my laptop, in bare feet. That's what keeps me freelancing, right there.

I had a dream last night that there were high chain link fences all around the city and I was outside and had to present an ID to get back in. Not much more to that. Just kind of 1984ish.

I just called and complained about the driving of a company truck down my street. The speed limit is 25 and it's not at all uncommon to see trucks plowing down the street at up to 40mph! Today a guy in a company truck, from the company down the street, decides to drive backwards, fast, for like a quarter block. Simply unacceptable. I called. The boss thanked me. We'll see what good it does.