although this journal is randomly public, most of what i write here is friends-only.

if you would like to read more, just add me and leave me an introduction.

( take the poll or leave a comment. )

Tags: polls

Many years ago, I was twenty years old and preparing to cross into Iraq and attack the defensive positions of their ground troops. My blood type was written in big letters over my heart on my flack jacket, as well as on one side of my helmet. On the other side of my helmet was a roster number so that they could quickly order a replacement for my position (Infantryman, one each. Use and replace as needed.). We were told in short order: "Focus on your objectives, remember your training, expect casualties."

At the same moment, on the other side of the world, my friends and former classmates were all in college. Going to class, getting drunk, getting laid, seeing bands, dancing in clubs, having fun, sleeping late, skipping class, protesting whatever was cool to protest that month...

I knew their world well since that's what I had left behind roughly a year before. I also knew that they likely neither thought about, understood, nor cared about mine. Mine had become too alien and different. It was neither fun nor cool. And even if they did think about it, it was all too easy to compartmentalize and distance as "someone else's problem".

And they were completely correct. I understood their world, and I knew that it kept moving without me. They were worried about where to go for spring break, I was concerned about keeping all of my limbs. Priorities. They had their families and each other, I had myself and an infantry platoon I had just joined a couple weeks before flying off to the desert.

But part of life is also finding a degree of grace and dignity, no matter what is thrown at us.

...

Because of this little piece of my history, I've been thinking a lot about my friends down in New Orleans. My life in my city goes on in the happy little way that I've spent many years building. And their lives have almost completely turned upside down in just a little over a month.

It could have been unfortunately easy to shrug off their situation, to focus on my world around me, and to distance theirs as "someone else's problem". But they're my friends, so I chose not to.

It's not that hard to give a little bit of time and compassion, to be attentive and responsive, to give some thought and consideration. But I've seen far too many people who can't be troubled. That's life, but I also believe our actions define us.

...

Yesterday afternoon, my friend finally died. In May he was fine, in June he was ill, and within the last 24 hours he's now gone. Only a year and a half ago I was at the wedding where he married one of my loyal friends from the past fifteen years.

We may all have our flaws, but I'll always remember him as someone who sincerely meant well and truly loved his wife. And I do have one anecdotal story to offer:

Over the previous weekend, as his friends and family gathered for his final weekend at home, I kept getting concerned texts about how he was trying to act as if nothing was wrong, as if he'd somehow recover, as if he didn't grasp the seriousness of his situation. Yet I also knew that he was bummed about missing the final Batman movie.

I pointed out that if he knew that he would miss a movie release that was less than ten days away, he was fully aware. I also explained that he was also a dude. We're raised to fix things, and to pick ourselves up from bad falls and walk stuff off as if we aren't actually in pain. He knew what was happening, but he wanted to hold it together and make the best of it, instead of seeing everyone else hurt and upset. He was being strong for them, as well as himself.

Through to the end, he chose to care, and to keep his dignity. And that's really as much as any of us could hope for.

Today is a Wednesday. Aside from work, the primary topics for discussion involve holiday weekend plans. My options: 1) stay in the city, go to a string of parties, and finish rebuilding my motorcycle. Or 2) ride out with some friends to the Hamptons, and enjoy a weekend long party as a guest in an excessively large house with a pool, bar, and full set of luxury amenities.

Should I choose option number #2: I will have a brief taste of the good life. I will wear white linen to cover my tattoos from the sun. I will dine on ribs and lobster. I will drink Ketel One and Patron and Veuve and classic aged bourbon. I will sleep late, drink coffee, and recover in a jacuzzi. I will attempt to tan, and possibly burn again. I will wear blue tropical print swim trunks because I'm a jackass and I think it's somehow ironic to wear that with all of my tattoos.

Oh, and I will do some completely self indulgent navel gazing about death and dying because that's what seems to be haunting me lately. I'm not sure it matters which option I choose, I suspect my mind will be elsewhere.

Either way, I'll be exchanging messages of sympathy and loss.

...

Over the weekend in New Orleans, a friend left the hospital to spend his final weekend at home, before checking into a hospice, where he will eventually make his final check out as his organs progressively shut down.

Somewhere in my rather convoluted past, I seem to have had some medical training. Because of this, I can recall the sequence of terminal events as things like the liver and kidneys fail. And it's definitely not on anyones list of "romantic ways to die".

As my friend was making the best of what's likely his final weekend, he went to the movies. He saw Iron Man and the new Indiana Jones film. He was bummed he would miss the new Batman movie.

Hanging out in a bar with my friend Julia, it occurred to us that duh, we live in NYC, of course we can pick up a bootleg copy and Fedex it down overnight. The Motion Picture Association can suck it, this man is dying.

Unfortunately, it's a busy work week for each of us while everyone tries to compress deadlines before escaping for a few days off.

Even more unfortunately, the updates from NOLA are that my friend is already going more toxic and losing coherency. Yeah, kinda saw that one coming, but hoping it wouldn't be so soon. I think I fucked up on the DVD plan already. I hope he had a chance to download it from online, but by now it's the least of anyone's worries. Since I couldn't be there, I thought I could offer one little thing, but it's already too little too late.

Time is often the greatest luxury, and sometimes we just don't get it.

...

Many people I know have already died through tragic and sudden events. And each time, once the initial impact passes, you have no choice but to pick up the pieces and move on.



But for me, somehow, it's seeing these slow-motion lingering deaths that tear at the soul. That slow and tragic grind.

( No matter how comfortable or fun, any routine risks turning into a rut. )

...

And then roughly a month ago, a friend called me late at night while I was out with friends in a basement bar. It didn't seem like a normal time for her to call, so I stepped outside to hear what she had to say.

The husband of an old friend of ours had gone into the hospital for pains in his side, thinking he had kidney stones. Instead, they found cancer in his liver and spleen. As more information was gathered, the news kept going down.

I would send texts asking for updates, but the responses were never good, and came with more of a mixed sense of resignation and shock.

And these text exchanges over the past few weeks have also become part of my routine. And it has been something that persists in my mind as I've been passing through everything else.

Just a couple days ago, it was announced that by the end of the week, he would be doing his final dialysis and final transfusions. Only one day ago, it was announced that this weekend he would go home for a final house party, before checking into a hospice.

If I'd had a little more forewarning, I'd be on a flight to New Orleans now. But that's the whole point: sometimes we just don't get the time that we want or need.

Just a month ago, he was mostly healthy and thought maybe he had kidney stones. Now, they are counting down his final remaining days.

Final. Remaining. Last. Game over. And this is how it ends for someone not even out of his thirties. And then there's the loss to his wife and family and friends.

...

Life can be unexpectedly short. And this is where we get reminded to savor even the little things we do have.

Overheard in one of the places in my neighborhood that passes for my living room. Hmm... I wonder who said this. I wonder who overheard this (Happygirl?).

Overheard in New York (overheardnyc) wrote,
@ 2008-04-28 02:00:00

She's Not Even the Toughest Woman on Avenue A

http://www.overheardinnewyork.com/archives/014463.html

30ish girl, looking at twenty-year olds: Are they going on about how old they are? Oh, please.
45ish rocker chick: Yup, they are.
30ish girl: I think I'm older than they are!
45ish: Me too. From the looks of things, they're about the age of my first abortion.
30ish girl: [Chokes on beer.]
45ish: Wonder how old that would be now?
30ish girl: Please stop.

--Double Down, Ave A

Overheard by: Happygirl

Ok, it started out simple enough: I was supposed to have some friends meet me for drinks on my birthday. But, my birthday fell mid-week. So, I'm flexible, and decided to move it to the weekend. Fine. Then it seemed like a good excuse to get some friends together and actually do something. Yeah, ok, this is NYC, and a lot of us who live here actually do things. And we know people. And they know us. Right? Right.

Venue? No problem, and we can even get drink specials. Go-go dancers and performers? Easy, I know a few. DJs? Of course! Ooh, and maybe we can get a bunch of our old scooters and motorcycles together and go on some sort of random ride. Right? Yeah, ok. Sure. Oh wait, if we're doing an "event" now, why not add another venue? And more stuff? Yeah, we know more people and bar owners and stuff. Oh, and since we're mostly creative professionals or people who do stuff or know more people, how would we like sponsorship? Maybe, like who? Would we like Fred Perry? Um... yeah, I wear that. Yeah. Ok. Awesome. Jaegermeister? Huh, what? Dude. No, wait, "Jaeger girls" serving shots. Dude, seriously? Yeah. Dude.

But wait, two of my friends (Niabi and Joanne) are shooting some photos and video for a project of theirs. Should we all do something together while everyone is out and about? Um, hell yeah! Ok, that was easy.

So, now there's a party this weekend. Two actually. With DJs and go-go dancers and performers and sponsors and hot girls and photographers and a film crew. There's also a couple group rides for those of us with the old 2-wheeled motor vehicles.

And even though it's gone to some bigger and different direction, somewhere under all that mix it's my birthday party too.

Feel free to drop on by for any of it.

Yeah, it's not a bad life. And I love this city.

Cheers,
-CI



www.nycmodsandrockers.com
myspace blah blah blah

Must remember. Must resist.

No matter how good of a "deal" that used Ducati S4R Monster is, do not buy it. No more bikes until after I've sold one motorcycle AND one Lambretta AND have finished rebuilding the tiki cruiser into something more oldschool. Remember those words from the 80s: "Just say no." No more bikes (for now).

Repeat.



#######


Umm... anyone looking for some stylish transportation?

I've got for sale one 1972 Honda CB350, in classic black and metallic green. It's a good bike, and I'm looking to find it a good home among friends.

I also may have a rather poshly restored mid-1960s original Italian Lambretta for consideration to the right buyer.

Huh, what? Anna Nicolle Smith found dead?

For halloween, I often considered putting together the costume to be "Max, King of the Monsters", from the Maurice Sendak book Where the Wild Things Are. I had always loved the story, and related very deeply to that character in an odd childish sort of way.

(Although one of the major drawbacks to that outfit (aside from effort), was the risk of being mistaken for a furry.)

Anyway, it now looks like the short illustrated story is being expanded into a full movie. It will be interesting to see how it comes out. Screenplay by Dave Eggers and Spike Jonze.

There are very few things that really skeeve me out, and the ones that do are somewhat odd. But apparently, according to Reuters, I'm not the only one who has a problem with that dreadful plague known as clowns.

From the article: "We found that clowns are universally disliked by children. Some found them quite frightening and unknowable."

So... I'm having a little party with an open bar in the Lower East Side on Saturday night, and you're all invited to join us.

It's the final blow out for the Gotham Scooter Rallies, and it will have it's own little mod/rocker theme. Joanne Loveless, Dr. Jones, and DRG will be rocking the turntables with music ranging from 60s garage to post-punk (as long as it's dirty and nasty). There will be free booze 10pm until midnight, featuring PBR, Yuengling, and well drinks.

If you're in the area of Parkside Lounge (at 317 East Houston between Avenues B and C), feel free to drop by.



...

ps- I just got word that a couple of our go-go dancers flaked out. If anyone is interested in getting paid to dance (and more free drinks), leave me a message.

Finally, there is that drop in air temperature and the beginning of those awkward few weeks where no one is quite sure how to dress: short sleeve or jacket? Sweaters or shorts? And with the changing of the leaves comes that time of year where the women start pulling out the wool skirts and high leather boots.

So many memories all come flooding back and mixing with my subconscious.

I dream of mountains and rivers and trees and big deep clouds rolling across the sky. I dream of the sounds of rustling branches and rushing water; the contrast of drying leaves and the slight dampness in the air. Lazy and leisurely afternoons, total freedom during nights full of big stars and a low moon.

I dream of fast drives down back country roads. The poetry of motion and the feeling of being in the driver's seat again. Down shifting and hard deceleration as the next bend approaches, the faint smell of heated brakes and a chirping of the tires, the rapid coasting through to clip the apex of the curve before pushing back down on the gas and accelerating out again in a widening arc, aiming to repeat the dance in the next corner ahead. Twisting and turning, ebbing and flowing, pushed back into the seats with the roof open and the windows cracked. Stealing a glance to see my passenger's smile as her hair blows around her face. The world rushing by outside while we travel in our own warm cocoon. (The music on the stereo: the song Anything by The Damned.)

I dream of old stone houses from when this country was still just a wild and new colony. History and hidden secrets. Laughs and late night ghost stories and mugs of hot mulled cider. Hills full of sprawling orchards, gnarled branches recently liberated from their burden of fruit. The smell of apples and wood and a distant fire. An intoxicating richness in the air.

I dream of holding smooth hands while walking through thick wild grass, bodies bumping into one another as we stumble along through the fading light. The feeling of body heat trapped beneath warm layers. The feeling of each other's breath upon our cheeks, the taste of a lover's kiss, the clean smell of hair, hands reaching up under clothes. The soft cool skin along the curve of the small of the back, a playfully unhitched bra strap while biting a lip, the textures of cotton and wool and the female form. Memories of how it felt to be in love.

umm... yeah. thanks for the email messages reminding me that i haven't updated this journal in a couple months. (and that it's been even longer since i even bothered to write more than a token bulletin.)

my life is good. busy. my apologies to anyone i've been out of touch with since june. (i'm even way behind on personal email.)

i haven't exactly been a recluse, i suppose i've just been an odd combination of active and introspective this summer. perhaps with the coming of fall i'll start writing again.

how is everyone here?