smoky.

hollow. flattened.

trampled cherries.

turkey jerky.

a somewhat bovine scent.

Things have been busy with work lately. Haven’t had much time for letterpress or other extracurriculars. Of course, it’s not a huge deal as I actually love my day job. Still, the big project I’m on is nearing completion, and I’ve been to two LGNE events in as many days. And tonight, we go to see St. Vincent at the Middle East. Her Marry Me, particularly “All of My Stars Aligned”, (over, and over, and over again) was sort of the soundtrack to January. First time I’ve been to a show where I haven’t seen the artist before in ages.

Last show of any kind was The Magnetic Fields @ the Somerville Theater on Valentine’s Day. They were predictably wonderful. The opening act was a “radio theater” company who did a sound play of Poe’s “The Telltale Heart” in ironic honor of V-Day.

Les Ballets des Monte Carlo is currently performing in Pittsburgh, so my little sister April (who’s with the company) is getting some mentions in the Pittsburgh papers.

My favorite April soundbite of all time was maybe 10 years ago when a Boston Globe reporter asked her if it was weird to play opposite my brother as romantic lead, I think the context was a Boston Ballet production of Swan Lake. She said something like “there’s not too much confusion with real life here. I mean, I’m also playing a bird.”

Sadly, nothing here lives up to that fine standard. Still, I’m happy to see her in some domestic papers, even if that means the McKeesport Daily News.

Terri and I have traditionally taken a one- or two-day getaway sometime around Valentine’s Day or President’s Day, for a little romance and to help stave off the winter blahs. This year, just having come back from a pretty heavy-duty vacation in Germany and France in January for April’s wedding, we decided to keep it simple (and cheaper) and just make a day trip to Portsmouth, NH. Which as many know, is sort of a favorite T&E spot, having been the site of an early non-date and also where I popped the question.

Saw a couple of interesting things (but bought none) at RiverRun Books. Not so sure why I’m so into David Byrne lately, but happened upon Arboretum, a nifty short book of tree diagrams of… well, basically abstractions. Says Byrne:

I see recent news photos that (unintentionally?) mimic Caravaggios, others that look exactly like images from Star Wars, the body attitudes of the Loas of Vodou or of classical Greek sculpture. Postures, poses and perspectives keep recurring over and over. As if Jung’s archetypes—characters, relationships and stories imbedded in our thoughts—unconsciously urge us not only to psychologically label situations and relationships, but also to gravitate towards certain images and specific angles in our image choices. The picture editor in our heads. I don’t think every photojournalist, for example, has a childhood memory of classical art that they once saw on a school trip that they use as an unconscious reference, though some might. I think rather the journalists and the classical artists are more likely drawing on the same deep internal sources.

I ended up not buying anything. We walked around a little and ended up at the Portsmouth Brewery for lunch. I had a sampler paddle of beer because there were so many things on tap that I wanted to try. We stayed for a couple of rounds while Terri knit and I doodled for a potential Rainy Planet printing project.

I sort of love the Odd Showroom on Market St, even though it’s mostly vintagey women’s clothes and original paintings that aren’t really my taste. The proprietress is usually sitting behind the counter with her sewing machine working up new originals. It’s not quite my aesthetic (lots of creepy doll heads with big eyes), but I get a charge out of going there; it’s always sort of fun to go somewhere where someone had a vision to do something and just did it.

There was a great little art show going on in a shop called Nahcotta which seems to be a gallery and designery home goods store. There was a show on called The Enormous Tiny Art Show. Some of my favorites were the Amy Ruppel paintings/beeswax etchings(?), Matte Stephens‘ very 60’s cartoony paintings (pictured is his “Elmer Gnome”), Rachel Austin’s paintings, and Scott Campbell’s “prison” paintings. A lot of it was very cartoony and design-y (which is totally up my alley). So much good stuff that we decided to buy some original art. We did not realize, though, that most of what was still up was sold, including the small painting that we settled on after a great deal of time and handwringing. It was deflating enough that our first and second choices were gone that we ended up not quite being able to settle on anything. I feel a little bad that I enjoyed the show so much and didn’t end up bringing anything home, so that is why the excessive linkery here.

Somewhere in there we also ended up at Bull Moose music and I bought the extended edition of X-Ray Spex’ “Germfree Adolescents”. I’ve been making so many exceptions to my “I hate punk rock” pose lately that I probably have to finally suck it up and admit that I’ve been… less than truthful with myself.

Had a lovely dinner at the Blue Mermaid, and then coffee, knitting/doodling, and sitting-out-the-effects-of-the-wine at Popover’s, and then home.

After some Dave’s Fresh ravioli and vino tonight, Terri and I watched the somewhat awful Bette Davis movie The Great Lie, in which Mary Astor played a classical pianist. It inspired me to get out my electric piano (a Yamaha P-80 which I bought maybe 7 years ago and haven’t touched since maybe 2004) and a book of Chopin Noctournes and Polonaises.

Ouch. It was sort of like trying to run sprints after a decade of eating cheetos and never breaking a sweat. I downgraded to a book of standards which was at least fun, and it reminded me of the time my high school/college g.f.’s mom, who ran a SIDS charity in Pittsburgh, asked me to play the piano at one of her fundraisers at some schmoncy restaurant. I think I might have bought this book for that occasion. I remember being super nervous, I remember being relieved that once it was over I hadn’t embarrsed myself, and I remember being excited that I made some cash out of the deal. I wonder how all those peeps are doing these days.

Yesterday evening before I left work, Terri and I decided to meet for dinner at Johnny D’s. On the train I thought of a game to play over dinner, which I decided to call the either/or game. I would ask Terri either/or questions, and she’d have to pick one. I got there before she did, so I got the first “either/or” of the night, from the guy at the door: “are you staying for the show or just for dinner?” (Just dinner). I waited at the bar and eavesdropped on a bunch of good conversations between the bartenders and a couple of patrons (who also seemed to be fellow Johnny D’s coworkers and/or girlfriends who were hanging out on an off day). One of these conversations was another either/or conversation: who was hotter, the Celtics cheerleaders or the Patriots cheerleaders? (no consensus was reached).

Here are the highlights of my Either/Or questions for Terri:
“red or blue”? (declined)
“John Coltrane or Miles Davis?” (declined)
“The Specials or The English Beat?” (The Specials)
“Laurel or Hardy?” (Laurel)
“Booker T. Washington or W.E.B. Dubois?” (Booker T.)
“Greeks or Romans?” (Greeks)
“Beethoven or Mozart?” (Mozart! I can’t believe I married a Mozart-over-Beethoven!)

Terri asked me a bunch, too.
“Imperial or Parkay?” (Parkay)
“Mary Tyler Moore before or after Georgette?” (before)
“Empire Strikes Back or Star Wars?” (Empire, too easy)
“Mr. Ferley or Mr. Roper?” (Mr. Ferley, but if it were both of the Ropers as a unit, the Ropers).

The show started, and we asked for the check. As we were paying up, we exchanged pleasantries with Willie (the former Someday baristo (baristo?) who now waits tables at Johnny D’s). The opening band (violin, guitar, upright bass, female vocals) started off with “Love for Sale” (”Cole Porter or Rogers and Hart?” (ummmm, what did Rogers and Hart do again?…. besides “Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered”, I couldn’t name a song on demand!). I was almost tempted to stay, but then their second song was kind of a crappy country-sounding thing, and we left.

As we were heading home up Holland Street in the cold, I asked Terri, “Woodstock or Altamont?” She answered, “Monterey”. She totally won! She also thereby confirmed that I married the right girl.

Last Monday

Nice, France, around 57°F, Sunny.

Terri and I walked around the little shops in the lovely windy streets of Vieux Nice and perused the weekly antiques market. We met up with my parents and siblings, grabbed slices of pizza, and ate them on this seaside wall, watching the Mediterranean Waves.

We went back to our hotel and got changed, and walked to city hall for April’s civil wedding. Apparently in France, a church wedding does not count as a legal wedding, so you have to have a civil service first, and apparently this is typically performed by the mayor of the town you live in). And then April and Manu were officially married! Yay!

photo by Terri. Doesn’t she have a way of making people look like movie stars?

The whole wedding party (All the Ball siblings, our parents, Manu’s sisters, parents, parents’ significant others, and a couple of April’s ballet friends) had a drink at Le Meridien, and then went to dinner at an Italian place that had insane portions. Everybody was making jokes about them being American-sized, but I have honestly never seen anything like this in the states. The pasta dishes were at least 20″ in diameter. Check out Abby’s desert, the “pot of chocolate”.

This Monday

Somerville, Mass., low 30’s°F, snowy
Woke up to about 6 inches of snow and near white-out conditions. Decided to work from home. As it slowed down at 1pm or so, upstairs neighbor tried out the new snowblower, and it seems to have worked pretty well. I went out and shoveled all the icy slushy stuff at the bottom that the snowblower couldn’t get to. All things considered, it was actually a pretty good day. I got a lot of work done, the snow was actually quite lovely (and was even lovelier once it was clear it was going to slow down and not start back up), and I got to be at home with Terri and the cats all day.

So, we’re now back safely in Boston.

We did not keep a trip blog this time, but I plan to post little snippets as I remember them as a way of prolonging the fun.

Editrix pointed out an excellent Achewood plot thread about currywurst which mentions Bono, which reminded me that Berlin really has a thing for U2, which I guess is reciprocal since I dimly recall them having had some kind of Berlin thing in the 90’s. There’s some kind of diagram that probably should be drawn linking U2, Berlin, Wim Wenders, Zoo Station, and the year 1992.

Anyway, on our first evening in Berlin, when we went to the Christmas market near the Zoo Bahnhof itself, we heard probably no less than 3 U2 songs. The Christmas markets are sort of like the Topsfield Fair here in Massachusetts, with rides, carney games, food stalls, and such, but also with booths with more artsy craftsy Christmas gift kind of stuff, different cookies and foods, and alcoholic drinks, like Glühwein, which is a hot and somewhat stanky mulled wine. Many cheap meals involving sausage (or various vegetarian options) were had. This is the currywurst I had at a fast food type joint in the Zoo Bahnhof on our last day in Berlin:

In an hour or so, I’ll be reading something from St. Paul’s letter to the Ephesians for April’s wedding. Her church wedding, that is; here in France, you have to have a civil ceremony first, so yesterday, she and Manu were officially married by the mayor of Nice (as is everyone in Nice, apparently).

Anyway, the reading she gave me is surprisingly churchy, so here is the reading I am going to give here, for me, from a Kelley Link story which I’m re-reading in The Best of Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet, which Terri got me for Christmas.

Your destination is North. The map you are using is a mirror. You are always pulling the bits out of your bare feet, the pieces of the map that broke off and fell on the ground as the Snow Queen flew overhead in her sleigh. Where you are, where you are coming from, it is impossible to read a map made of paper. If it were that easy then everybody would be a traveler. You have heard of other travelers whose maps are bread crumbs, whose maps are stones, whose maps are the four winds, whose maps are yellow bricks laid one after the other. You read your map with your foot, and behind you somewhere there must be another traveler whose map is the bloody footprints that you are leaving behind you.

While we were in State College for Christmas, I went to the Comic Swap with Glenn and picked up a copy of Berlin #13 by Jason Lutes, a comic (er… graphic novel) series that I’ve followed since I saw the first issue in 1996 (I think in Minneapolis when Tim and I were visiting Mike on our way back from Oregon). This issue takes place on New Year’s 1930:

Coincidentally, Terri and I are actually in Berlin this New Year’s. We are going to Nice in a few days for my sister April’s wedding, and as usual, we were not content to just stick to one European locale. Since neither of us had ever been to Germany, we decided on Berlin. We’re also going to make a day trip to Leipzig, today, as soon as Terri gets up from a nap. She woke up early and couldn’t get back to sleep, so her nap is actually a good excuse for me to upload some pictures and do a little light blogging.

We are generally not big New Year’s Eve types, so while there was some champagne (and tapas) in our evening, there was little of the revelry pictured above. However, the Germans do seem to love their fireworks. Not only were there official New Year’s fireworks over the central park (the Tiergarten), but people set off their own fireworks and firecrackers in the street, starting at about 6pm and on until at least 1:30am (which is about when we fell asleep).

There have been a couple of times this weekend where I’ve wanted to snap a picture but I haven’t had my trusty digital camera with me, so I’ve had to resort to cameraphone photos. And when I looked, there were a whole bunch of photos that I had totally forgotten about.

April 12, in Corey’s car on the way to Koreana

Corey was organizing a monthly “lunches of the world” lunch at the office, and this was taken on the way to the inaugural lunch at Koreana. We were crammed pretty tightly into Corey’s car, because I think he was the only one who drove that day (most people don’t in Cambridge/Boston if they can help it). It was raining, and Corey was a mensch and dropped us off and walked the rest of the way.

Walking around in Harvard Square, April 30

It was one of the first nice-ish days of the year and Terri and I got that post-winter “we need to be outside RIGHT NOW” feeling, and walked around Harvard Square and had dinner on Daedalus’s roofdeck, even though really it ended up being a little too cold and windy to do so.

July 4, fireworks in State College

We went to visit Terri’s folks in State College around July 4, and went to see their impressive (especially for a community of its size) fireworks display from the stadium where their new single-A ball team plays. It was the first time I ever actually saw fireworks right where they set them off, synchronized with the music and all. The traffic was insanely bad on the way home. While we were still stuck in the parking lot, it seemed like they started to fire off a bunch of extra fireworks that hadn’t gone off or something, and since I didn’t have anything better to do, I tried to take some pictures with the cameraphone.

July 27, Help is on the way

This was from the day I announced to my team at my last company that I was leaving for greener pastures. It had been a long, rough Friday, and I was happy to head home at a reasonable hour to unwind. Unfortunately, the elevator got stuck, and for the next hour, I was trapped with three other people. The building maintenance staff had gone home for the weekend, and the remaining security staff was comically incompetent. We hit the help button, and talked to a guy on the intercom, who sounded like he was about 19. He said he would call the after-hours maintenance line. After nothing happened for about 10 minutes, we called him back, and, seemingly at a loss of ideas on what to do next, he asked “what’s your name?”

We all gave each other what-does-that-have-to-do-with-anything looks. “Rob,” answered the guy who had hit the button.

“How do you spell that?” 19-year-old security guy asked back.

At that point, we realized it was going to be a while.

After another 30 minutes or so, and a few more bootless calls to the security desk, another co-worker decided to take matters into her own hands and called the fire department, who showed up in about 10 minutes, reset the elevator, and had us on our way.

August 10, What would Ezra do?

This was at my going-away party in the web development pod. My co-workers had a custom cardboard cutout of me made (my head was photoshopped onto that suit, by the way), which is funnier/sadder if you know that the company I was leaving had just had 17 of those things made as part of a half-baked internal marketing initiative. The thing that I love about this photo in retrospect is that the expression on Ersatz Ezra’s face is closer to what I was feeling at the time than the expression on Real Ezra’s face.

December 22, 300 Santa

Saw this yesterday after Glenn and I had lunch in downtown State College. (Note: The Deli has Celebration Ale on tap!)

December 22, The Wises, at the site of The Candy Cane

Terri’s parents owned a candy store in State College in the late 70’s/early 80’s, which was right next to The State Theater. We went to the theater last night to see It’s A Wonderful Life, transposing the Terri & Ezra tradition of seeing it at the Brattle Theater in Cambridge. After the movie was over, we stopped to look for the brick that we bought as part of the State Theater’s renovation fundraising efforts. The photo is the crappiest of this lot, but was nice to have something there to commemorate the occasion.

December 23, Terri and a kitten

This is one of the babies of a stray that Terri’s aunt took in. Terri really bonded with this guy.

Things I want but can’t really have.

• Illinois senator Paul Simon to have won the 1988 presidential election. I don’t know what exactly happened, but the point at which he dropped out of the race… nothing has really been the same since, and so much would be different now.
• Taco Bell to bring back the Rancho Steak Burrito, a short-lived offering, ca. 1995.
• A new Neutral Milk Hotel album.
• Sacco and Venzetti to not have been executed

More next year.

• A news anchor on the Pittsburgh CBS affiliate signed off with “It’s going to rain tomorrow, get out your babushkas”.
• As I started what ended up being an all-Saturday project to dig a drainage ditch, my dad started playing the O Brother Where Art Thou soundtrack in the garage, which starts off with chain gang music. He thinks this is cute.
• I got totally ganged up on when playing Risk with Terri, Lisa, Abby, and Dan, just because I showed no mercy to my little sister and came off as a bully. My real problem is that said little sister was a PR major and overplayed her helplessness, and I ended up owning just little Madagascar and South Africa by the time we decided to call it a game.

Is it annoying that I post dream write-ups? I’m going to do it anyway, because they entertain me.

Two days ago: I’m dreaming I’m watching the Today Show on a hotel TV (the only time I watch the Today Show or Letterman is when I’m in a hotel), and Bryant Gumbel is doing the weather from Florida, just like Willard Scott used to. It feels like some kind of role reversal, or like it symbolizes some kind of passing of torches from one generation to the next or just the passing of time.

Last week: Bo and Luke Duke, Cooter, and Boss Hog have all gone to some kind of lakeside resort house somewhere outside of Hazard County. But it’s a trap, and Darth Vader and a bunch of stormtroopers are there waiting for them. Luke Duke, who starts to seem more like Han Solo, has been separated from the rest of them and is being held in the main ballroom. Everyone else is being held downstairs, and Chewbacca is there. I’m with the people imprisoned in the basement. We realize that there is a big Chevy pick-up truck there, and we can just get in it and drive through the wooden garage door. There is a CB-radio hooked up to a PA system in the truck. As we’re driving away, we try to address Luke through the PA: “Just fight them! It’s easier to get away than you think! You just have to try!”. Luke doesn’t try. Boss Hog sneaks back and looks through the window. A group of people, the intelligentsia of the Empire, are gathered there with Darth Vader, and they are sort of trying to brainwash Luke, who is now decked out in Timothy Leary-style hippie gear and flower leis. Bob Dylan is one of the intelligentsia and he’s trying to get Luke to chant “I’m the son of God, I’m the son of God”.

Friday as I was headed to the T station after work, I saw this banner, a two-story blowup of a sympathy letter from FDR.

After I got off the T in Davis, I decided I was tired enough that I could take the bus. Terri thinks taking the bus is cheating yourself out of a 15 minute walk. I think not taking the bus is cheating yourself out of a potential source of good stories.

Friday’s trip on the 87 bus was a case in point.

While we were waiting for the light to change to pull out of the Davis Square bus area, a rather inebriated guy with a grey crew cut and a fairly packed physique, kept putting his fist in the air and yelling “we’re the Marines!!!”. A couple of bratty kids outside the bus (let’s assume they were waiting for the 96 to Medford) started saluting him. He yells to the driver “hang on, I’m getting off!”. He proceeds to dangle out the front door and point threateningly and yell incoherently at the kids, who laugh and run into the station.

The guy swings back into the bus and lurches down the aisle to his seat as the bus starts moving. He’s talking to himself or yelling things at people on the bus, like “hey, cupcake, how do you know if you don’t give me a try?” or pointing sort of threateningly at this kid and saying “you, young man, need to show some respect”. The kid’s mom is sort of protectively standing over the kid with her hands on his shoulders. This went on for a minute or so and the guy didn’t seem about to give up, so I decided that I needed to take some kind of action. I didn’t want to do anything pick a fight with a drunk ex-Marine, especially since he looked like he could be a mad drunk, but I just kind of decided that I’d walk up into the aisle between him and the kid to distract the guy.

The guy looks at me. He starts studying my face. “You look very familar. Where do I know you from?” He keeps staring. “I KNOW! You’re the guy who got me out of jail today!” He holds out his hand. We shake. “Thank you, my friend. You got me out of jail today!” He calmed down a little and went back to just yelling “We’re the marines!”

And then it was my stop.