Come with me on a journey into the ancient past: 2005.
With all the people I meet who learn of my project, I inevitably end up rehashing a lot of the same material. The list of cities I've lived in gets rattled off with all the rhythmic precision of a scripted speech. My favorite city? How do I pick my cities? What will I do when … Continue reading Are You Taking Notes?
I'm bad with names. I'm also bad with faces. And places. Chances are, if I haven't seen you in the last 15 minutes, I'm not going to remember you. 5 if I've been drinking. This puts me at a considerable disadvantage when I'm in a bar, because there's always bound to be That Guy, Who … Continue reading BARchetypes: That guy who remembers me
Do you remember the first song or album you loved? I mean, truly adored, with play-it-over-and-over again type obsession. I was pretty young. The album wasn't really an album at all. It was a collection of singles by The Beach Boys on a cassette that had somehow managed to leave my father's collection and end … Continue reading Help Me Rhonda
Memories are the backbone of this 10 Cities project. What do I remember, what can I remember, what should I remember? I don't ever want to get so bogged down in nostalgia that I forget to live in the present, but reliving and retelling the stories of my time on the road are what give … Continue reading The Music of 10 Cities
In exactly one month, I will move to my next city: Nashville How familiar this all is. A year ago, I began this blog to chronicle the 10 Cities project, along with all the other random thoughts, ideas and events that make up my life. As far as major milestones go, the 1 year anniversary … Continue reading Count the days… Again
On the last day of Spring, they’re going to give my dad a medal for killing gooks and raising children in the Reagan eighties Outside, drenched in starlight and the muggy grasp of a Midwest Summer’s eve I’ll cradle a glass of eighty proof and melted ice “A toast to abandonment” to recall, fondly, being … Continue reading Father’s Day
[On rare occasions, I go back and find an old poem that I still think has merit; 4 years old, this one] I come to coming again In need with you I say I smell blood You say, “That’s because your nose is bleeding.” This sickness I sought The color of powder and the texture … Continue reading Love in the Season of Decay