Wednesday, June 23, 2010

(Antichrist Television Blues)

"I don't wanna work in a building downtown,
no I don't wanna work in a building downtown
I don't know what I'm gonna do,
'cause the planes keep crashing,
always two by two.
I don't wanna work in a building downtown,
No I don't wanna see when the planes hit the ground.

I don't wanna work in a building downtown,
I don't wanna work in a building downtown,
Parking their cars in the underground,
Their voices when they scream, they make no sound.
I wanna see the cities rust
and the trouble makers riding on the back of the bus..."

Lyrics and song title courtesy of the The Arcade Fire.

Ps for the previous entry-
In my haste to recount the tale of the free yuppie party, I forgot to detail the morning of June 15th, 2010, which was in fact the very same day. It was one of the most pleasant sublime mornings I have enjoyed in a long time. Like when Jill pushes me to get to the movie before the previews start, taking the early train home for my dermatologist appointment early that afternoon was a very good idea.

After starting a load of laundry (I have yet to pay for doing laundry this summer, besides in love and affection to my parents) and hanging out to dry on the line a load that was already washed, I spent several minutes inspecting the compost heap that was cooking away in the delicate warmth of the morning. I greeted the worms and the bugs and thanked them for all the work they do. I sifted the dark decomposing dankness of the mix through my fingers, noting each component as it fell back into the pile. Besides being such a useful and productive substance, compost is richly symbolic for what it represents. The idea of harnessing and directing the power of nature to work for us in order to make a rich soil replenishing darkness, basically food for the soil (in one sense food for our food) is an efficient and ethical mindset that can be applied to all pursuits and walks of life. Compost is also spiritually appealing and nourishing for me, probably a result of my upbringing and personal philosophy and values.

Then I planted beans! Two rows of pole beans have now (observed yesterday, a week after planting) sprouted their dual green leaves, pushing a few inches above the soil, the next stage in the life cycle of these guys, the entire contents of one 18 gram paper package. Kentuckey Wonder pole peans, or Habichuelas Fagioli to be exact. It was a very easy process, this planting event, lasting not more than 10 or 15 minutes, but it is a brief period of time that I cherish as my symbolic inauguration into the world of gardening. I have planted seeds before, some literal and some figurative, but never before with such intent, focus, and interest. I know it's a lot of symbolism for one day, but I mean it. Symbols and ideas are important, often times more important than we acknowledge or like to admit.

That morning I also took a small harvest from my Mom's backyard plot consisting of garlic scapes, rosemary, mint, oregano, and a bit of sage. It wasn't much, but this little bounty has been contributing color and bursts of flavor to my cooking for the past week and more; rosemary went in to the red bean chili I made this afternoon and evening.

The morning at 15 Summer Street was nourished with a tasty omlette and potato-and- scape fryup and polished off with a quality beer, what some would say is "the best beer in the world." Then it was off to West Newbury to check on 511 Main Street in my Papa's absence. He is in West Africa for the next month and a half, doing work in several different countries collecting the work of and interviews with different authors, writers, poets, musicians maybe, I think anyone who might be interested.

I was so heavy-eyed when I arrived (the only downside of taking the early train) that I took a 20 minute nap in the front seat of Mommy's Prius. It was exactly what I needed. I went to the dermatologist’s office feeling refreshed and ready for anything, including the discomfort of having a small scoop of my flesh removed. Dr. Goldberg is notorious for taking samples here and there for biopsy. To my delight, no such work needed to be done! I have retained all of my skin, at least for the time being.

After my appointment I headed back to West Newbury, for I had a date with a pile of wood. Stacking wood for about an hour provided me with more than just physical exercise; it was a mentally relaxing time when I could focus intently even as I let my mind wander to everything and nothing. When I returned to Ipswich I felt downright great! Also, driving back into Boston with Allan in Rhonda is a good time, always good conversation and music. Like yesterday after the beach, and after dropping off Jill, Allan and I dissected and discussed the lyrics and meaning of ‘Banned from the Back Porch,’ by Saves the Day, all the way to route 93. What more can I ask for, really? Here's to transcendent mornings and holy dusky evenings.


  1. A lovely post, John David! Nice guardgoyle, too.

  2. good post, young JD. you have a way with words