Sunday, November 29, 2009
This shot is from Matt's Valley Artshare page.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
"John Jones, 26, of Stansbury Park, died nearly 28 hours after he became stuck upside-down in Nutty Putty Cave, a popular spelunking site about 80 miles south of Salt Lake City. John Jones was part of a group of 11 people exploring the cave passages. The 6-foot-tall, 190-pound spelunker got stuck with his head at an angle below his feet about 9 p.m. MST Tuesday. At times more than 50 rescuers were involved in trying to free him." The whole story is here. (The photo is not from this specific incident.)
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Looking for deals in the discount CD rack at Turn It Up! (umm....pull 'em up).
I often see some unfamiliar street musicians on Saturdays and Sundays; weekend warriors compared to the 9 to 5 guys who are out there every day.
Here's Adam (and friend) with his guitar on the front porch of the notorious "house with the red door" on King Street. Adam is also a virtuoso of the saw. Only the red door's hinged edge is visible.
A colorful bunch about to become pedestrians.
And they're off!
If you want this worm, it's going to cost you.
This is local boxing coach Djata Bumpus of Pioneer Valley Boxing School who's been a fixture in town for years. But he's much more than just a boxer as you'll see on his blog Djatajabs. The purpose of his blog is "for people to be able to recognize and understand cultural and social developments in the United States, based upon the lifelong journey of an African American activist, educator, artist, and retired pro boxer."
Who's zoomin' who?
Local girls agree to be immortalized on the Nohodome.
Sweet job for someone.
Hmmm. Is the B.I.D. behind this? They painted all the lamp posts black but you'd think maybe there would be an attempt to match the color of cement when patching the sidewalk. This looks terrible, and right in front of the Hotel Northampton too.
There's a planet on the roof of the hotel...
...and on the front stairs.
Trying on jackets at Roz' Place on Bridge Street. Note the amazing vintage radio collection. Bakelite!
Not sure I can rock the Ramones look anymore despite my admittedly bad ass rock and roll lifestyle that has me up as late as 9PM most nights.
A delivery truck hit the marquee right after the other side was repaired for the same reason. Grrrrr! Knocked the lights out too so it just glows VIN.
A zen moment with Ani DiFranco who plays the Calvin tonight. My friend Katie is taking me and insisting I will enjoy myself.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
This is obviously the Lion's Club represented by this old firetruck in today's Veteran's Day parade in Northampton, shot out my office window.
Bonnie's ghost cart continues to runneth over.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
I was reading a copy of Edible Pioneer Valley this week while I ate dinner, learning all about eating local and healthy. I don't think the pizza I was eating from Pizza Amore on Green Street is what they mean by locally grown. But like going to the gym, eating right is on the list that I hope to get to before being instructed to do so by a doctor. To this end, I want to direct you to a locally grown cooking blog by Nicole Kutcher with lots of easy cooking recipes. A Bushel of What? "Nicole Kutcher lives with her husband and her dog in Easthampton, MA. She has no James Beard Awards, no culinary training, and no cookbooks published under her name. She does, however, like to eat." The latest post is a great (I bet) Curried Vegetable Soup recipe. She's "got one in the oven" herself as of late so forgive her any pickle and ice-cream based recipes that may pop up. Just click on the logo below.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Mommy, what makes men drum in the back of a parked truck in downtown Northampton on a Sunday evening?
And what makes a man videotape them? And what makes a man use the word videotape instead of whatever phrase describes shooting a movie with a digital camera? I slept until 3PM, well, 2PM, today and awoke to my door buzzer. Emily was returning the bag I'd left in her car last night containing a picture frame, an umbrella, and one warm can of Miller beer. The detritus of an evening of altered identities and mental states for morning-after forensic analysis.
I made a scrambled egg burrito and then headed to Northampton Coffee for a cappuccino and a lemonade at 5PM. I felt none of the usual guilt about sleeping away a Sunday, drunk with the heady luxury of that extra hour added to the day. This gift of an hour gives humans an illusory sense of power over time, as if we had any control. Sure, we invented these measures of time; minutes, hours, days, so we could have dentist appointments, and we can use our invention to pull this daylight savings time jazz, but sister this won't buy you time in the end. If your moment of death occurs right when the clocks go back, you don't get a reprive. Never mind the whole leap year racket. As the Beatles said, number nine, number nine, number nine. We're just monkeying with the instruments. Nevertheless, it's a great illusion and today felt long despite my scandalous sleep-in.
Usually I feel like I've robbed myself of life's precious and finite weekend hours. But lately I realize that I needn't see the weekend as separate from the work week because A. they frequently bleed together and B. why not just BE all the time wherever I am instead of framing some time as mine and some as "on the clock?" I've read about taking this approach with "waiting" in line or in traffic and it makes plenty of sense. Don't think of it as waiting. Don't focus on getting to the cashier and twitch and fidget. Try to be in line. BE in line. Look around. Listen to what people are saying. Monitor the culture. Gather some anecdotes. It makes me feel powerful not to allow a situation to get the best of me and look around at all the willing victims who have yet to reach CVS-line enlightenment. I think about elevators and stairs this way too. They are not merely a means to an end. If life is about the journey and not the destination, then what better metaphor is there than a staircase, an escalator, or an elevator? The epitome of a failure to grasp this idea is those ridiculous segueways (ala Paul Blart: Mall Cop) that rob us of our walking.
The video below evokes the concept of transport as its own reward (as well as offering a clever tool against obesity.)
Waiting rooms. The name already sets people up for annoyance. What is this need we have to divorce parts of our lives into chunks, half spent reminiscing, the other anticipating? Or doing too many things at once like George Costanza and his dream trifecta: eating, having sex, and watching television all in bed simultaneously. Jerry calls him "Caligula" after this incident. George says, " I flew too close to the sun on wings made of pastrami," and Jerry replies, "So, she didn't appreciate the erotic qualities of the salted cured meats?"
Personally, any moment on this planet that I'm not in pain, have no broken bones, I'm not in jail, I can breathe and scratch my elbow, etc., I am in a state of potential joy. The real test I guess would be keep my cool in an airplane that is going down. And really, what is life but that?
After Northampton Coffee I came home feeling ideal bio-chemically and inspired to create. This feeling doesn't happen often enough. It's a full moon so maybe I'm feeling a lunar tug on the tides of my creative juices. Sometimes it's the result of caffeine and is oft accompanied by a flurry of resolutions and the use of words like oft. I proclaim that I will get up at 7AM and go to the gym for the second time this year after buying a two-year membership last January. Then I'll go to Northampton Coffee or the Haymarket to read the paper, maybe scribble down some of the more promising fly-by thoughts, and go to work on time rather than sleeping until 9:45 and getting in at 10:30. Eric, if you're reading this, the times are purely hypothetical....
I tried to make some headway at my collage table but lost interest and, as always, I end up talking and writing about being creative rather than doing it. I love ideas and inspiration but wow does my discipline and follow-through suck.
The recycling bin is always interesting when you share a building with the TMNT's company Mirage. The renowned local enterprise was just bought by Nickelodeon.