I went to a house party in JP

It was so much fun. Met new friends whom I will tragically never see again (shout outs to Evalisa, Jeremy, Chimera, dancing girl, dancing guy who looked like Beck, break dancing girl, black haired girl in lime coat who kept holding her Corona bottle up for me to sing into, girl with fur stole about to move to Florida...) did I mention I had fun? J & E were kind to think of me and even kinder to drive me 1000 miles uphill each way to get me to JP. The car was powered by their kindness. That and some Ritz Crackers in a baggie (yes, I am that well to do). We danced the night away to an inspiring mix containing both Bell Biv Devoe AND Echo and the Bunnymen - which was sweet like sugar. Sugar kisses. I don't normally participate in the dance party scene - but it was a veritable blast (from the past and otherwise). Everyone was happy to be there and paid honest homage to my poppin' and breakin' skills. Ok, attempts. You see, there's going to be a third installment to the as of yet unfinished Beat Street Trilogy and there were scouts there... anyway.

Message: When your friends email you late in the day on a Friday to say they *might* be going to a house party in JP you should always prepare for the best. You should also bring your dancing shoes and perhaps your own cup. If Brendan's band is playing because Jason is moving to Japan in a few weeks - then you should most definitely go. Also, not really invited? Not going to know more than 3 people there? The only question you need ask: "What time are you picking me up?"

My mom is 65 today, she looks great. I hope I look great when I am 65. When she was my age she was married with 2 kids, a house and a mortgage. I have a new pair of jeans I really like and some student loans.

Boston News: OK GO! is playing at TT and the Bear's if anyone loves them some super sweet pop from Chicago I suggest you check it out. They go on around 10pm. Have fun Springing ahead this weekend... (that was corny and I enjoyed writing it)

Spring is right around the corner.

I can tell by the mounds of black snow surrounding my morning walk to work from North Station. They refuse to yield to the sun's warmth. They refuse to acknowledge the hope and joy or the silly, lovely lilt of warmer climes and happier times. Or something like that. They are ugly. I ride the T every day to and from work. In Boston, unlike New York where the various subway lines are steeped in interesting history and lore (see Jonathan Lethems' "Speak, Hoyt-Shermerhorn" from his book of essays The Disappointment Artist), our beloved and beleaguered subway (although older and much hyped) is just slow and kind of annoying, much like I imagine I was thought of in High School. The interesting stations with any possibly hidden or forbidden history have been "re-done", any traces of uniqueness or history white-washed away in favor of the wallpapering of my dulled senses via clever and colorful (ouch) ads for the iPod (are those stickers?). Sigh... my commute makes me introspective, but none of the illuminating products of this quiet time ever survive outside the tunnel. I am left trying to relate what it felt like to have deep thoughts on the train, rather than those thoughts themselves. Perhaps you are lucky that these revelations never emerge into the scrutiny of company and instead collapse upon their fragile selves pre-communication. Perhaps it's even possible that my blog could be more boring and self indulgent. Perhaps, Perhaps, Perrrrrhaps.

My mom is turning 65 tomorrow. We are having a family party and eating lots of good food (that my mother is going to cook at her insistence which is weird but normal too). My whole family is getting together to celebrate. I'm leaving work early. I don't know how to make this birthday more special than other birthdays. I wish I could do something or write something that would make it more... just make it more. She's 65, that's important. Things like this always seem to happen at the busiest moments when you can't get anything done aand are hopelessly caught up in yourself. I hope my mother will have fun and not feel disappointed. I usually feel sort of disappointed at birthday parties.

Non-Sequitor...
Here's my 30 second play "Katy on the T"

Katy: (balanced precariously with one hand on the bar above her head and the other holding the free Metro newspaper)
Man in Seat: (Looking at her for inappropriate length of time, unhappy)
Katy: (Looks at man, thinks to self "Should I not try to read the paper because it seems to annoy this man")
Man in Seat: (in his mind) "That rattling of the paper! It's driving me mad! Why do all the crazy people have to stand near me. Grrrr."
Katy: (Looking back at picture of Michael Jackson supporters outside courtroom, thinks to self "No, I mean, he has a seat, right? He's fine. Those girls are too young to have even heard Thriller..."
Man in Seat: (Rising suddenly when the train stops, sing songily chirping "Excuuuse Meeee" knocking Katy off balance and subsequently to the floor)
Katy: (Boom!) Ow. Thanks (as a few people help her up and gather her things)
Conductor: North Station! Next Stop!

Until Next Time...

They call me Dr. Worm. Good morning how are you? I'm Dr. Worm. I'm interested in things. I'm not a real Dr. but I am a real worm. I am an actual worm. I live like a worm. I like to play the drums. I think I'm getting good but I can handle criticism. I'll play you what I know and you can tell me that you think I'm getting better all the time (welcome to the inside of my head all weekend long)

Hello everyone, it's been so long, I don't even know where to start. I've written so many blog entries in my head on the train, lying in bed, staring off the back porch - but now that the opportunity has arisen I feel more the urge to direct you to other people's blogs that are really funny (like www.duncangilman.blogspot.com for one) rather than write anything. Ok, so I gave into the urge, and yet - I'm still writing...

It was my birthday on Saturday and I sang karaoke in Quincy with those friends who chose to brave the elements and risk life and limb to, well, sing karaoke with me. It was fun, but like a lot of things it seemed to end way too quickly and that made me sad. Efforts to prolong the evening with an impromptu after-party, graciously hosted by my old friend K. and his friends D., J., and A. yielded only acute insobriety and a pricey cab ride home (not without a flat tire ont he way home). Sometimes you have to just let go of the moment and not crush it to death by trying to experience it more (like Lenny and the pretty lady). My mom and dad came out to the karaoke bar and my brother and his wife L. hosted dinner before and were so, just, ultimately gracious and awesome and fun - picking up a lot of the bills and talking amiably and sincerely with the rag tag assemble of Katy friends from now and then... I felt very loved and taken care of... and old. Yes, of course, I also felt very old, but I guess that's part of the deal too.

So I have They Might Be Giants on the brain (that would be the Dr. Worm lyrics) also thinking a lot about Matt Damon and Ben Affleck, thinking about dreaming into doing, not being paralyzed by fear, that kind of thing. I am in great admiration of the performers and artists I see who have chased an improbable dream and succeeded - not because they were lucky, but because they wanted it enough to believe they could do it. I want that too.

For now maybe I'll just focus on the karaoke. The karaoke and the getting old. As if it couldn't get any more poignant, I rode the bus this morning with all of the Quincy High and Jr. High kids who live in my neighborhood (I had no idea there were so many, yikes). What a weird eye opener that was. Teendom is eerily exactly the same in every way as I remembered it. There was even this girl with an army bag purse with pins all over it and a black PeaCoat (with eyeliner to match) and she was sort of separate from all of the other girls who were wearing pajama bottoms and chirping and laughing carelessly (menacingly?). Maybe I imagined it, but I think I caught her eye on the bus and we exchanged a knowing look. I really wanted to tell her that none of this is real and once it's over and you graduate you won't even remember how intense and scary and inescapable it all was and it will all seem silly and funny and distant and ironic until your car dies and you take the bus one day with a bunch of 15 year olds and then you will remember and you'll wish you could help. Maybe she was just staring because I had something in my teeth : )

Ok, time for my flouride treatment. Hope everyone is well and won't have any heart problems after seeing that I actually updated my blog.