User:Noisecontrol

Noisecontrol

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.

I am 31 and very interested in this new mode of technologies. If you look to what's linked here you will find some useful information about me. It will take some effort though. In these days Information is money and I don't come cheap.

It will take you 2 years to comprehend most of what is contained in this page so don't fret, it took me ten years to compile it. It's still very rough and I don't anticipate putting a novel on the shelves until I'm 40.

But who knows, maybe I'll get fortunate and all of the good work here will rub off on me. Don't laugh, I'm serious. In the last 3 days I've learned more about coding than I did for the last 5 years. I think that has something to do with the simplicity of the design.

In any case. I'm enjoying this medium and I hope you do to, and I'd love to hear your thoughts, so click on the discussion page, and drop me a line!

Sincerely,

Christopher J. Bradley

Noise Control Publishing --

http://www.ncpink.com

And I actually pay for this?

My Various Projects

     Yahoo Group!

     Pink.com/zebra2005.htm zebra Electronic Music

     Pink.com/poetry2005.htm Poetry

     My Garageband

My Adventures in WikiWorld

A Writing Sample

Medford Village Currents - Revision 1 Noisecontrol Publishing

Medford Village Currents (The New England Slack) By Christopher J. Bradley 4/21/2003 7:19:08 PM (On the Eve Of The Completion Of The Boston Marathon) ©2003

1 scene

[a supermarket parking lot]

In a Black Ford LTD

It is windy and hot

A summer afternoon in July

It breezes in pulses.

We stopped after long travels through the winding roads from New York to Massachusetts and when we finally got to [[]], Scott and I had the hardest time finding a parking space, and when we finally did, we almost passed out in the car in the parking lot because the weather was so hot.

I had left work without plans to ever return to Niagara Falls, so it was ultimately important that we find housing as soon as possible. Our journey would lead us into the true unknown. After glancing around the marketplace for a good few minutes, we made up our minds to get to it.

2 scene

[someday café]

The goat dances on caffeine fumes

We speak to a cellist

She has long delicate arms

An MIT student with short blond hair

And a laptop also talks with us.

I would like to go home with either.

Scott finds the apartment folder.

He reads that a flute player is subletting.

The cellist was a magnificent specimen. I really hated to leave her there alone, when she was so wonderful to share coffee with, but we really needed to make headway, so we called the subletter as soon as possible, and he came right over and met us.

He was a stout man with a beard, he looked kind of like a Jerry Garcia type, so we saw no fear in discussing the rental with him. He looked like a peaceful and wise individual. The truth was, that he was just too lazy and stubborn to shave, but we wouldn't find that out until later.

3 scene

[the steps of the Pink house]

We meet the Jerry Garcia knockoff,

He is heavy, but willing to join us,

For a discussion of rental arrangements,

Over beer.

We went with him to a bar down near MIT and enjoyed his companywhile we watched young men drink stout beer dressed in shorts and polo shirts in the true New England style. It was something I'd never witnessed before, and I think it was distinctive of the region. I've never seen people drink yards in Western New York, or even when I was in Chicago.

4 scene

[the kendall square stop on the T]

It is six thirty,

Well after the rush,

The subway is clean,

It pulls away,

Leaving us to climb the stairs.

This was my first experience riding the MBTA subway in Boston. It was remarkably clean and organized in comparison with Chicago's Elevated train. The routes all come out from Central Station in flower petal organization so the odds of getting on the wrong train are remarkably slim.

You are more likely to get lost in New York City or Chicago because there are so many more paralleling routes splintering off.

5 scene

[the brewery with the overhead pipes]

Vested shorted ivy leaguers,

Are pulling from Yards,

We are in full swing,

With our humble pints,

Jefferson Airplane wails,

And the bar stool spins a little,

Keeping us able to walk,

Back into the night.

Again, this is the bar where I saw the young men drinking Yards. I wish I had that kind of stamina . It is almost a chore to drink what I had let alone a Yard.

We got to know Wayne a little bit and he informed us that we had at least one mattress to share when we got there, which was fine because Scott wasn't picky. He slept on the floor that whole month

6 scene

[davis square]

Ten Thirty P.M.

She is singing folk with an acoustic guitar box,

Open on the cement floor,

She has a little amplifier,

And a folding chair,

We ride the escalators,

And I make a note to tip her,

If I see her again.

Her voice echoes off the tiled wall.

That folk singer in the subway was a first for me. I'd seen some of it in Chicago's downtown Station, but not in quite the Granola way that she was dressed.

It was impossible to make out the lyrics over the human traffic , but it was beautifully articulated . Her voice went up and down like her hands on the guitar.

7 scene

[we move into the Pink house]

It takes several trips from,

The LTD to the doorsteps,

Where we notice ants have invaded,

We have more homemade beer,

Around a dimly lit table,

The scrabble board is our centerpiece ,

Late into the night.

Moving in was similar to moving in in college, but it was some how different. It was like abandoning all things before to embrace something new , a chance to truly plant my feet on ground where I could stand alone and make the best of things as well as they could be.

My vision of the world was getting larger, and it made me feel larger than life in a sense. Being at home I had worked at a small company in the seperate city of Buffalo, and I'd worked my way into the community there, having made myself a regular at a coffee house called the Topic.

That one never wore off and I would be recognized for years in the clubs and local haunts of that neighborhood.

You could almost say, I almost made friends with the prostitutes, tax collectors , and other vermin of the streets. But somehow I stayed with my head [[held] just high enough to stay above water, at least until I moved. Things were about to change for both the better and the worse . There's more to be said for both. Much more.

8 scene

[baybank]

We are getting cash advances,

And haggling with the tellers,

The sun is bright,

The wind is still whooshing,

There is a woman with a wind-burned face,

Power strolling up the street.

Baybank was the major bank in the neighborhood we moved into in Medford. It was just across the street from the Someday Cafe' and it seemed the most likely place to have secure transactions taken care of in. The tellers were courteous and understanding of our situation. Very different from those who will put up a next window sign here in New York.

9 scene

[the bakery]

We are taking out pizza,

In paper bags,

This is Scott’s discovery,

And what a discovery! Eureka!

The oil, basil, and garlic,

Ferment among my taste-buds,

Sending wild sensations through my nostrils,

Of times dating back to the early eighties,

With grandmother at the malls.

There's nothing better than a slice of bakery Pizza. Scott came up with the idea before I did. Bakery pizza far outstrips pizza shop pizza when you want to have a nice leisurly morning in the summer sun. It's the kind of thing that can make a broken day something to live for again. I strongly advise Sunday Morning bakery pizza too. I think they put a little something extra into it. My grandmother used to buy us Pizza of every kind when I was a kid, so as far as pizza has been I've been spoiled in life, but not to the extent that I couldn't go for a slice at this very moment. It's almost lunch time. MMMmmm...

10 scene

[dunkin donuts]

We are here to buy the Globe,

It was a short drive from the Pink house,

And I know tomorrow I will walk.

We take the paper this afternoon,

And walk a block not sure how we know its’ North,

To look in on a baseball diamond,

Where an all-star game is playing out,

Senior League kids game,

They are all wearing their own teams’ jerseys,

The coffee is just right,

Iced cappuccino melting against the bricks.

Iced Cappucino on a hot summer day is always a bonus. But even better, is getting to watch an all stars teen baseball game. That's what America is about. And to top it off, it's an outdoor activity, so we could smoke all we wanted, and just kind of converse about the move and our strategies for the first week. Things were going to get interesting. I knew that Scott wasn't necessarily as committed as he seemed about the move, but I thought he could discover a way to make a go of it.

11 scene

[[[purity]] market]

We are looking for groceries,

And now it is night,

The beautiful women are clubbing it in their clubs,

Or serving their coffee’s,

Tea Time has long since passed,

And the Tea is still blowing past us.

We buy Spaghetti Sauce, Pasta, and Vegetables,

Meat and Bread, A Half Gallon of Milk.

There is a half Hispanic girl at the check out,

We think, purity, and wittingly try to impress her.

She is not impressed.

She would be even less impressed,

If we told her, that all we had between us,

Was a single mattress and two small rooms,

And a VCR, that played the only tape jammed into it,

A tape about getting jammed.

It is a long walk out to the parking lot,

Reflecting on her long dark hair,

Remembering a girl that looked like her when I was 15,

Who was a fantastic poetess,

In the glare of a television playing a vampire movie,

“Death by Stereo!” was the most important phrase for us,

And rather than have her show me the world,

I swept up glass,

And lost her in the pieces.

Until the engine started again,

And we were making our way back,

To the Pink house.

Yes, she was hispanic, but she had the dark hair and the dark eyes of my ex-girlfriend from high school. Tammy was a VCR vamp and she did wonderful things for making me the man I am today. That's all I'll say on that subject for this journal, but I will say that I wouldn't have minded getting to know the purity girl better. There was something intensely sexual in her smile, that to this day, I have difficulty describing. She flirted back with us too. I had to bite my toungue to resist saying something more than stupid. Neither Scott or I had the resources at that moment for a date.

12 scene

[music and cigarettes]

The smoke traveled heavily,

In thick wafers of air candy,

Over the scrabble board,

While Dark Side of The Moon,

Played out over Wayne’s stereo,

And we learned that he was a technical writer,

And checked answers against his lexiconal dictionary.

We played a lot of Scrabble when we were in Boston. Wayne had one of the professional big plastic tray boards and it was very entertaining to drown away our sorrows while listening to [[]] sing Money and The Wall. We had some monumental matches in that Pink house, that we still talk about to this day. The memories flood back the minute Scott mentions scrabble when we hang out today. He is currently working as a waiter in a local restaurant. I actually had my heart set on going out for drinks with him for my birthday tonight, but neither one of us has a car, like we both did back then.

13 scene

[massachusetts ave]

We took the long walk,

Through Sommerville and Cambridge,

To visit Harvard Square,

After stopping for coffee at a Starbucks,

The first I’d ever spent time in.

On our way to Harvard Square, our first week there, we stopped in at a cafe called Starbucks. It was the first I'd ever seen, and it looked inviting. The coffee was very strong and it kept us in good spirits even though we walked miles that day, not really knowing much about the stops on the Red Line yet. And it was good excercise anyway. Neither one of us had been extremely active in the city up to that point. And it was good to get to know our surroundings a little bit before venturing out into the larger metro areas. We had our hearts set on Harvard Square for the legendary chess battles that go on there.

14 scene

[the au bon pain]

I walked into the store with the yellow awning,

And bought two Iced Cappuccino’s,

They came with far too much whipped cream,

And cost nearly four dollars each,

Expensive for 1995,

I came out to the Square,

To find Scott playing chess with David.

David was a Harvard student from over seas,

His clothing marked him an almost Boston Native,

But there was something more trim about his silk.

I spoke to him about how often he visited the square,

As Scott took a new partner,

Likely a park resident,

An older character in a wool coat,

And watched in awe as they battled,

Like Titans in the most famed,

Gladitorial arena of the chess sphere.

To this day I cannot recall the victor,

But the struggle, piece by piece,

Move by Move,

On the surface of granite,

Took on Epic consequence,

And I knew I would one day return.

The Au Bon Pain was expensive, being the only real vendor in the immediate vicinity of the square. I think the drinks cost almost $4.50 each, but they were yummy and it was still extremely hot in the late afternoon sun. David seemed like a very gifted individual and I wished I could have gotten to know him better. But he carried himself so well, that I was intimidated by him. He seemed extroardinarily well read and mannered, unlike so many of the people I would meet on the street in Buffalo. He was gentlemanly. And that's saying a lot as far as complements go. I can't say I've met anyone quite as reserved to date. My friend Andy is similar, but not in anyway a bad way. He keeps to himself because it protects him from the offense of others.

14 scene

[the snap café’]

David had told us of a Bohemian café,

Something more local than the Au Bon Pain,

A place with flavor, and style.

When we got there it was garage noir,

Black tables,

Thin, light metal chairs,

It was uncomfortable,

And non-smoking,

And we spent too much for single cups,

Further,

They required the purchase of a coffee every fifteen minutes.

It was like something I would have expected in Manhattan,

Snap,

Something you don’t want to have to agree with,

People were wearing berets,

And they probably didn’t know the first thing about kerouac,

Not that I did at the time either,

But I wasn’t pretentious enough to believe they would have paid a dime

more,

For coffee in Styrofoam.

The coffee shop David recommended was the worst knock off beatnick toilet of noir, I think I've ever experienced. They served coffee in styrofoam cups, as the verse already mentioned, but better than that, they charged far too much for it. That's a no no if you want your customers to return. We did not. It was off the map for us. Not only was it off the map. It was off the map. It was actually hard to get to, you had to walk kind of down a back alley to get there. It is quite possible, that it was not intended to be a real coffee house at all. But they had weak tables and chairs, and some really snooty patrons that I am glad we did not talk to. I can go bohemian, but I can't go bad caffeine.

15 scene

[the harvard book store]

We went in and took a look around,

It was crowded,

People pushed and shoved their way to the register,

Trying desperately to take home a piece of the Boston,

That they couldn’t have.

I remember looking at the Sweat-Shirts in the window,

And burning with envy at the emblazoned logo,

That I couldn’t afford to wear,

It was cool that night,

And we were making our way to the pub we’d seen earlier.

It is always about image isn't it? I would have killed for one of those sweatshirts. But I didn't get one. To this day I am jealous of anyone who wears one in my presence because I know they have received the full tour. Or at least had relatives that did. It's not about money, it's more about status. I would have loved to have gone to Harvard or MIT for college, but I never did look into the requirements. I just assumed a technical college would have a more progressive education as far as computers were concerned. Truth be told, I was probably right, but then in retrospect I should have commited myself more to it. I just never ended up putting in the necessary work to get my bachelors. Perhaps I will get it next year.

16 scene

[the arrow pub]

Coming in made me feel like taking a coat off,

Funny that I wasn’t wearing one,

Scott was wearing a jacket and shoes,

Almost about right,

We were humans in a boiler room of pool and darts,

A place where talking to each other made more sense,

I could tell the women there were older and somehow immune to my thinking.

It was still corrupted from the memories of the purity girl and

remembrances of Tammy,

And my fantasy video women.

So we sat and talked and watched the small television screens,

There was a Red Sox game playing out,

At that point having been blanked about baseball,

My skill in attention to it had died,

But there was always another pint,

Something to drown the missing parts of me,

That are only now merging into one.

The gates are closed,

But the Arrow Pub is open.

The Arrow Pub was great, but it wasn't really much of a place for lively conversation. Scott was very intent on drinking and I was trying to get over how daunting taking on the Big City for work would be. I never really thought I'd be able to step out and Mack a job up. Within 2 days of having a car, I had an interview. Within 3 days, I had a job. But that's more for a little later on. The point was, I was beginning to realize what an acid cripple I'd become through all the drug use in 92 and 93 and I was certainly not in any way going to embark on any of those sorts of pursuits on this trip. My entire focus was settling down and learning to live on my own, and I had not much time for thinking about sports or recreation, when that is something that I think I sorely needed in my life. Leisure activities bring out the better sides of people and if I could only have seen that then, I think I would have been a much happier person at that time. Geez. It almost sounds as though I need that Psychiatrist.

17 scene

[the international house of pancakes]

We waited in line for almost an hour for a seat,

And the meter ran out on the car,

The food was ok,

Coffee, and pancakes,

But it wasn’t worth the twenty dollar fine,

That I had to mail in,

That fateful evening,

The lessons about taking a car downtown,

Can be endless,

And aren’t easily taken with a grain of salt.

Don't you hate it when you get a parking ticket, or a tow or some other useless fine for something that should during most reasonable times be free. In Western New York, the meters are not charged at night, so I never would have suspected in the slightest that they were going to ticket my car. So much for a crazy night at the Pancake house. It ended up in the long run easier to take the subway whenever I went anywhere downtown and use the subway for the outer townships.

18 scene

[haymarket square]

The shops lining the inside of the square,

Serve food of all types,

I have been told by others,

That there is excellent Souvlaki there,

And I know for a fact,

That they have excellent sausage.

We walked through and it was like a mini-mall.

There were Equadorian pipe players in the cool wind,

Of a summer night in front of the Square,

That I watched,

As I finished my dinner,

And tipped change into a felt hat.

The nights in Haymarket Square were something to remember. There was always something new to see. A new sight sound or smell. A feeling of unbridled tension in the air. The people sifted among each other like mammalians and the wind funnelled down the aisle as we strolled carelessly. I remember buying a coffee mug to bring back to my father and mother in the gift shop there. Some memorabilia of a trip well spent in terms of cultural acclimitization. There were things to read about the Declaration of Independence and Jefferson and Franklin and especially the Boston Tea Party which wasn't held far from there. Scott and I enjoyed beverages as we walked and took in the sights sounds and emotions of the moment.

19 scene

[abbott staffing]

The girl from Buffalo,

Helped me set up and take a typing test,

On a small personal computer in the back,

She determined I wasn’t a quick typist,

But found me a mailroom job for 8.35 an hour anyway,

And I started work the next Monday.

It was convenient that abbott staffing was downtown in Haymarket Square, because I already knew the subway route there, having only a few days prior visited. It was a quick stop off in Federal Plaza and a short walk down some steps and then into an office complex paralleling the market. The girl that assisted was from Buffalo and I think she passed me on the typing test simply because she admired me for trying to relocate as she had. It's always a struggle and I could see that she was struggling as well, possibly only being a temp herself. It showed in her eyes. She helped me land the job though where several other places that interviewed me wouldn't give me the time of day, even for computer help desk problems. Hats off for secretaries. It's a good thing they get days of their own.

20 scene

[advent International]

I took the elevator to the 18th floor on Federal St.

And found the front desk secretary.

She had the keys to the mail room ready for me,

And handed me a voucher for a cab that had already been called,

It was my job to pick up the mail at the dock.

I took the elevator back down to the cab,

And glided through the streets,

Like a fish being driven,

And the mail was in a crate,

Ready to deliver.

The driver was patient with me,

And I gave him a five dollar tip.

I took the elevator and the envelopes up,

And entered the mailroom,

Where I was taught the sorting technique,

By the front desk second in command,

They instructed me on how to weigh postage,

And stamp on the mail machine,

And how to file the faxes in the log book,

And after a few days,

I thought I might have figured it out,

To the point where I was washing dishes,

And taking the payments for one of the Vice President’s cars,

To the garage across the park,

And stopping on the way,

For Au Bon Pain’

I ended up taking a cab at one point with a voucher to pick up the mail for Advent down on the docks. The post office was not nearly as professional looking as I would have expected. It seemed almost illegal the way they were shoving the mail back and forth. But then who am I to say. I'm not an expert in that area. My friend Mike is though. He's working for the post office now and I'll bet you he could even tell you what a first class stamp costs. That aside, the work in the office was about as professional as you could get. I had to wear a tie and sort the mail and deliver it to the secretaries and log the faxes and sort them in with the mail. It was rather complex actually, I had to remember my alphabet, something I hadn't put much thought to since kindergarten, but somehow it still seemed daunting at times with the rapidity I was required to move the packages and packets. In the early morning virtually every member of the office got a copy of the Wall St. Journal, but on the odd one that didn't get one, you had to skip over because each one was exactly addressed. And the mail machine for weighing outgoing packages was a real nuisance. I had to keep getting the front desk secretary for help with it. They even had me doing dishes for them after one of their meetings. I enjoyed working for them, but I know in my heart, that I earned every penny of the $8.59 an hour they were paying me.

21 scene

[central station]

In the big central rotunda,

Ticket counters line the edges,

Interspersed with McDonalds,

Burger King,

And other Quick Food establishments,

The people flow like rodents,

Quick and furious,

Through the tunnels,

I made a deal,

And I’m there to buy a ticket,

Buffalo Bound,

One Way Greyhound.

People moved like animals in Central Station. They walked in every which direction in the big open dome and confused you. You had to be careful to step ahead to avoid pin ball like collisions. In actuality, they were more like fish than animals, veering in schools toward their appropriate trains. All I needed was a bus ticket at Greyhound. I don't even think I stopped at McDonalds for lunch because the place was so horrendously full of people. I think though that part of what contributed to the collision factor was that I was in the station at noon, the busiest time of day. Perhaps if I had come later, there would not have been such a controversial scene.

scene 22

[sitting on the bus]

I watch through the windows,

Motion begins,

With the driver’s announcement,

That we should remain seated,

While the vehicle is in motion,

New England’s trees become a blur,

And my thoughts dream,

Back to the purity waitress,

And my Grandmother’s Pizza,

And the sweatshirts in the bookstore window,

I begin to realize all that I will bring back to Medford.

I will bring back the computer,

And the shadow,

And the Juno keyboard,

And most of my compact disc library,

Then there are all the trees again.

And then I think of the people I will have to bring back,

My Mother,

My Father,

My Brothers,

My Sister,

And I try to listen to the radio,

But it is useless,

I have to pay attention to the stops,

Here and there along the way.

And the trees are powerful and strong,

Against the vivid light of day,

And then we are suddenly in the midst of Oak Street.

And the motion Vibrates in my temples,

And the transport comes to a temporary end.

The summer was full of the evening reds and oranges of maple trees and oaks as the trip proceeded. I found myself lost in all of the nature at the edges of the highway, and I remember focusing on my own belief in myself that if I did not at least succeed, I would come back some day. Maybe to make it the place of my retiremennt. But then the more I see here, the less I think there is a need for any particular retirement. When you learn to make yourself literate, you are literate for life. Your words and spirit flow through the people that receive them as if it was God himself speaking through you, just as he speaks through the waving of the trees. That can only happen of course if you've made a conscious effort to come to terms with that philosophic and religious position as I did about a year ago. No one says I am perfect. No one said Paul was infallible as they so kindly pointed out on television last night. But when thinking of enjoying nature, now I will always have to thank the Holy Spirit for making the beauty of nature come to light.

23 scene

[loading the ]

Rarely do I see,

Actual tears in my Mother’s eyes,

She stood on the porch,

As I loaded the computer, keyboard, and discs,

And a wide assortment of clothing,

Into the Shadow.

I made sure to check on the camera,

I had bought at the CVS in Boston,

In my backpack,

I kissed her,

And rolled from the gravel,

Wordlessly.

Mom didn't realize what I had to do. I had to be the stable party in a situation that could have turned out worse for both Scott and I. He might never have found that Someday Cafe' without me, and he may have ended up stranded over night with no way home. So all in all our decision to stay could only be predicated on his responsibility to me to find work so that we both could maintain a successful housing arrangement. Wayne, being the tough nut that he was ended up doubling the rent and deciding he wanted us there less. More to come on that. The point was, I went partly to look out for Scott. The other part was my curiousity of whether or not there was anything there for me.

24 scene

[[[Black]] maple cruise]

The road wrangled up beneath me,

And as I traveled,

I spoke in silent thought,

To my life Icon,

The maple I climbed in my yard,

God in all his splendor,

Assured its rest there,

For my hands as a child,

For my legs as a teen,

For my shade as an adult,

To be my companion during desperate moments of hope.

And the rubber was firm against the Blacktop,

And the Black Cherry Shadow angled forward,

Into the rising sun,

That blistered the eyes like a burning fire,

The day wore on and the birds and the pheasantry,

Scattered into the woodlands,

At the edge of the Interstate.

And the car was like the inside of a cranked up toaster oven,

And in the moments that I stopped for soda,

I reflected on the stiffness in my aching legs.

When the toll cards were finally paid,

I knew I was back,

In the place I belonged,

The Pink House in Medford.

Travel is fun. The open road is a thing to be marveled at. When you get behind the wheel of your first car, you feel a twinge in your backbone that screams all the way up your spine Freedom! At last, you have the same opportunity and possibility that is granted the privilaged middle class in America to live the wild and transient life that is a ramble forward with no looking back. In so many ways I was not looking back. Hindsight is twenty twenty though. I was looking forward with my eyes on the brass ring of success and had things worked out differently, I might not be the writer I am today. I would have missed all of those debates with Scott over why Sartre was only going to make him more depressed. What I didn't realize at the time was that there is some enlightenment to be had by opening ones eyes to philosophy. Even kerouac and his boys knew that. They were all over the road with the wheel spinning and they came up historically smelling like roses. Even if they were occassionally taken advantage of by the dogs. The open road, a metaphor for everything good and soul searching in the four corners of America, a place to hang your hat low over your eyes under a starry night while watching the trucks pull down. A mountainous cavern of bliss when crossed through and above. For the road is not flat. It moves up and down and it twists and it turns until you can relentlessly say you've gained experience that no other single individual can share. The open road is a vestige of American life, ever since Henry Ford developed the Model T in every color you wanted it as long as it was Black. The open road was meant for you and me friends. I strongly urge you to take it up sometime, and feel that throttle in your loins, for there is no other place to go, under these stars, but a rave on the moon.

25 scene

[the beer mart]

I walked into the dark store,

And smelled the odor of old dry Beer,

Like the smell of,

The back room bottling department at Tops at home.

It suddenly came to mind,

That a good German beer,

Might be preferred,

By my housemates.

With the help of the shop keeper,

I settled on a nice twelve pack,

Of Grolsh bottles,

It cost roughly fifteen dollars,

And was a menace to carry,

So I loaded them into the front seat,

The green bottles rattled as I drove.

The grolsh was supposed to be a bribe to get the two of them to help me move my car full of stuff into the tiny house. It didn't work, neither were impressed with the Grolsh as they'd been drinking the moonshine homemade stuff. I was really disappointed with them but I didn't let on and carefully carried my keyboard, stereo, and computer into the house and set up for business. I knew by then that Scott's aparent lethargy was not going to pay off in Spades, but I kept quiet and went about the business of work and self establishment and I showed them how to fax documents later that evening on the computer. Scott liked to play a game of chess I had obtained from our friend Larry the Terminator in Buffalo. It was called Fritz. And it's accuracy and acuity were maddening. It was such a tough game that I wouldn't play it, but Scott spent ages staring at it like a mantis and eventually beat the thing. Once.

26 scene

[scrabble in the evening]

When I arrived they were playing,

Duelists locked in fiery Battle,

The smoke wafting in the rafters,

The clean face facing the beard.

He was the Bunzee man,

Furiously laying letters,

In a desperate attempt,

To forego the inevitable gloom of defeat.

I offered them Grolsh,

But they concentrated on the home brew,

So I cracked one open,

And watched the fates collide.

I played a couple of games of Scrabble that evening. We listened to [[]] and Peter Gabriel and a couple of the many CD's I'd brought from home. Wayne was not fond of my collection so they didn't get played much around the house. He hated anything with electronics or hip hop beats. And that was all I really had. We had a few seven letter words as I recall. Scott remembers that I placed the word Bunions for several points. He also challenged it and lost crippling his score for that round, but it is possible I think that he may have won the game. I never paid too much attention to who won or lost. It was the playing of the game that was most intriguing to me. It was a real chore to tabulate final scores anyway, and even though I've accomplished the task of completing Calculusi III I've never particularly cared for adding and subtracting if it's not absolutely necessary. I guess I was lucky when I was a cashier at the computer store in Buffalo that the machines automated all of that. Wouldn't it be a joke if someone got a couple thousand dollars worth of discounts. Hmmm....

27 scene

[computer city saugus]

The bus dropped off,

On the side of the four lane highway,

Opposite the mall,

And I had to walk,

Across a long gated catwalk,

To finally achieve the retailer,

Where I went in and requested,

A full-time sales application.

I was dressed well,

But I was sweating in the summer afternoon,

The store was virtually empty.

The customer service clerk,

Took the completed application,

And told me to call back in a day or so.

I missed the last bus leaving the mall,

As it closed at four P.M.

So I ended up taking a Taxi,

Sharing it with a Puerto Rican woman,

And her baby,

For ten dollars flat.

Before I had the car, I took this ridiculous bus trip out to the Retail Computer City out in Saugus. The trip never paid off because they never called me back. Even though I'd had years of prior experience in Sales and Customer Service at the one in Buffalo, they flat out thew my application in the garbage because they thought it ill willed to move out to Boston without a plan. I could have told them to shove it down their pants, but I don't think they would have liked that. And to top it off I had to share a cab to get back to the subway. I didn't mind sharing though. The puerto rican lady and her child were beautiful people and they were dropped off before I could even figure out how far we'd traveled and tried to estimate the costs. It ended up costing me 10 bucks I didn't want to spend, but for that and a smile, I got back home where I needed to be. I'll never work for another retail store again. They treat you like hamburger to a degree that can be compared only with Burger King. Where I once was nearly fried alive by a gargantuan freak. More on that in stories of the weird. A blog I intend to create when I'm done rambling about these amazing experiences that people can only hope to have in their lifetimes.

28 scene

[circuit city mystic avenue]

I filled out an application,

One sunny afternoon,

Thinking I had a shoe in,

Because of my tech background.

The manager interviewed me on the spot,

But at the end of the interview,

He asked the tough question,

"Have you ever had problems with drugs or alcohol."

I told him the sorrowful truth,

And I was not hired,

To sell Televisions or Camcorders.

The truth is, I've done everything you can possibly do wrong in your life. I drink, I gamble, I smoke, I have a history of drug addiction and psychhiatric melodrama. I've never been arested but I've been in the back of a police car more than once. I've nearly dropped my grandfather's casket, that was a good one. And to put it out point blank, I'm still here. People still love me for who I am. And if I don't have myself, I have my two dogs. At least I know they are good for ripping open the trash and eating the chicken bones only to puke them up the next day. But really, does it take that much talent to sell a TV or a camcorder when you've already got computer skills and mad verbosity like I do? NO. Give me a break. I'm not a part of the mob and I don't drop in on the backs of brinks trucks. I know better. There is a fine line between what you can do legally and what you can't and while I've been dancing on it for years, I've never made that little step that you have to make to cross it. As far as I'm concerned I'm a disabled veteran. I could have predicted the war that happened this year back in 1996. They called me crazy for it and ran me out of town. But you know what, as I said once, and I will say three times in this message. I am still here. I am still here. And no low life middle management scum is ever going to make me feel like a child again.

29 scene

[the gillete agency]

I drove for miles and miles from Medford,

To a temp agency in Waltham,

Where I met a very upscale agent,

To discuss a potential opportunity for work with Gilette,

As a technical services representative.

It was an in-house operation,

On their internal computer network,

I was shown several diagrams,

And engineering schematics.

But I could not understand them,

Their illiteral detail,

Was not something I had ever seen before,

And so the trip,

Was an expense of fuel,

And yet another dashed hope.

This on the other hand is another story entirely. The lady I discussed this job with on the phone said that she had an opening for a skilled individual and there was a miscommunication. I thought she was looking for computer help desk help and it turned out ultimately that she was looking for an engineer. She showed me floor plans of an intricate network and I was unable to interpret the signs. That doesn't mean I might not, with the appropriate training been able to handle situations on the network, but it turns out, that I've learnet more about networking and coding on my own and through the agencies I've worked for locally than I ever would have had I taken a job with too steep a learning curve in Boston. So much for Gillette. If you see me on the street today you'll say. Yep. He was right. I've given up on shaving. It's highly overrated. Why bother if no one sees what you're good for on the inside track. Look at all this fun and excitement. We're in the new Vegas Land baby and there's bound to be something to entertain. Hell if my words don't come on down and spin the wheel with me sometime. I'll give you the lucky numbers out of my fortune cookie.

30 scene

[the last days of the green tomato]

Scott cooked the vegetables up right,

He made a stir fry without the pasta,

While I surfed the Y’s and Z’s of the dictionary,

And that’s when I discovered Yohimbe.

I did a song and dance,

It was the African mint root I had chewed,

In the midst of the Chemistry mayhem,

Of December 1993,

A courtesy gift from Mark Oliver,

The DJ that I gave a couple of extra Smart Drinks,

For his Twenty Dollars Canadian.

I was riding the back of the zebra,

Through the breathing walls of acid and dry ice fume,

And it was seven letters.

So we made the rule,

That if anyone ever scored with Yohimbe,

Or even got it in their rack,

They became an automatic Scrabble victor.

Those vegetables tasted amazing,

On the earth-ware dishes in the Pink house,

And the tomatoes,

Even the green ones,

Were ripe, and full of garlic salted juice.

The last days of the green tomato are right. Our time in Boston was running out. We ended up having a running gag about the Yohhimbe root in our scrabble games because I think I actually tried some in Toronto once. I don't know exactly. I think that I was so fried on Acid that I may have actually missed the point of the whole thing. I was told by the guy that gave it to me that it was an African Root that had Stimulating abilities if you know what I mean. I was stimulated all around that night if you know what I mean. I was so lost in the magic that I couldn't count the change for the customers and had panic attacks when we ran out of 2 dollar bills. Which don't even exist in any real shape or form in this country. Incedentally this was all related to a dead head type smart drink business I ran across the border called Mental Jackhammer. It was all under the table and I made enough money to bankrupt myself. I found that my girlfriend had a little bit of a medicinal problem herself and was in the till and that had to end. It did and badly. And to this day, I wish I'd stood clear.

31 scat

[the mac world nomad spoilers arrive]

August had come,

Rent was due again,

And the Mac World Nomads knocked,

They startled the hell out of us.

He hadn’t told us they were coming,

Regardless of his reasons,

They were not welcome in my living space,

And they made themselves at home,

Unrolling their sleeping bags on the living room floor.

I had one beer with them,

Then I went to try to sleep,

But I deceived them.

I read all night,

At 5 A.M. I woke Scott in his room,

We packed the LTD and the Shadow,

And at daybreak,

Before their ratcheting eyes opened,

We were on the road,

Home.

This is where the story ends. Scott and I rapidly packed up our things and headed off in seperate cars to get back to Niagara Falls as quickly and evasively as possible. From what I understand he never did pay his share of the rent but that was not important as I had paid a mammoth phone bill for long distance Scott had used and Wayne had said he'd be commited to sharing it. The wonders of brotherhood and loyalty never cease. In any case I lost only about a thousand dollars on the adventure as I earned a weeks pay and Scott only lost about three hundred. By nineties standards that was a lot of money, but when I compare it to what you can sink into a bad slot machine, its really not that much. Don't ask Don't tell. The moral of the story is, if the landlord has fleas, don't let him drink in the kitchen. And there's more, be careful if you stand to close, you might start itching yourself. We had a ball that summer and there was no more fun to be had at that point and I dynamically fell back into school and work pursuits having spent some more time reading a computer publication on the train back and forth to work. Ah the marvels of public transportation. I only wish I could have stolen that Japanese guy's rolex while he was standing next to me. Oh well. You can't win 'em all, but you can cyberpunk out your next door neighbor with a burned CD of their nocturnal habits. Wait a minute. I'm sinking into Psychosis. Somebody get the stretcher. Tie me down. I'm having abnormal thoughts about abnormal women. The end is near. Beware Cinco De Mayo 2005. Because I'm raining down on this earth with a vengeance.

Epilogue

[the tennis match]

Early on Sunday morning, one week after we arrived, I dressed as best I could, and walked to the Methodist church between Davis Square and the Pink House. I patiently signed my name into the guest book and sat down to listen to the sermon. The minister was an African American woman, and the service held was for both Unitarian and Methodist parishioners. I listened carefully as she talked about Agape and the unification of spiritual and philosophical forces bringing peoples lives together. At the time I don’t think I really saw the impact of how this would impact me, but in retrospect, I can see that it was important. It is not just important to me, but to anyone who has a friend or relative, and that covers just about everyone in the world. Or at least you would hope it does. I meditated and prayed on it for a moment, and asked God to help me find the reason why I was here. I thought mostly about finding a way to support myself and become part of a community other than the one I had dealt with back home, Not realizing, that no matter where you go, you can never really leave home. Either home comes with you, or it finds you, or it Spirits you away. Because today, home is the Earth, Earth is where you come from, and Earth is where you will stay. Even the cosmonauts that lost their lives in space return to the earth as ash. Yet visions like theirs are eternal because they are made eternal through the motions of the papers that sift through the air of the seaside, on you guessed it, Earth.

I asked around at church to see if I could enlist in any help finding work in Boston, and I was nudged aside by most people, except for one kind old woman who began asking others on my behalf. Many of them suggested reading the help wanted ads, or looking to temporary agencies, or the unemployment office. It appears that most good God fearing people are not the ones that have the power to instantly employ just anyone. They work for people too and have careers to uphold and must keep to a smart degree guarded from strangers or drifters who might upset their ability to care for their own. This is understandable. So I took their suggestions and worked at it a while but that all came later. The important lesson is that drifting is something that you have to be careful about, because even your own affiliations may not recognize you when you journey to distant lands.

I will take you to the beginning of the tennis match. I spent a long time walking back up the hill thinking about the sermon and the old woman’s charitable speaking, and the coffee and cookies at church, and I was not particularly in wonderful spirits for sharing my thoughts of the people I had encountered because I did believe that they genuinely could have helped me if they had wanted to. And perhaps in a way they did. When I channeled my energy and wisdom into relaying a message of hopefulness in the last quarter mile, I found Scott waiting for me at the door, with two rackets in hand. He told me to go and put on some other clothes and come and play tennis. At first I wanted to decline because I saw this as an energy sapping activity. After all, I had just walked four blocks up hill and had a mission to talk to him about motivation and overcoming obstacles. I thought he was just as depressed as I made him out to be, and I thought that he had been reading things that were necessarily prescriptions for depression. He was always walking around with a book written by Jean Paul Sarte’ or Albert Camus. It isn’t until now that I realize that philosophy, reason, and metaphysics are all connected. In a spiritual sense, he must have been working toward his own awakening of being. Just quietly, and in considerately. And so I changed, thinking that it wasn’t going to do me much good. After all, how can you give a sermon, if you are choking your way after a green ball?

I played as well as I could, but I knew that I would never defeat him, at a game he had grown up playing. So I struck the ball when I could, and the energy flipped out of my hands and over the net into his court. Every once in a while I would score a point, but it wasn’t often that I would achieve love on my side of the score sheet. So I conceded that if victory had to be his on this count, it would define it that he was champion. But he was never overly smug about his game play. He simply wanted me to remember that we played the game and had an opportunity to enjoy an almost resort like living. Our house wasn’t even a block from the court, and there was no charge to play. And the baseball games were gratis, being a community sport, if we wanted to watch. So there was something going on. But I couldn’t exactly see it at the time. Now I think that I can say it without fear and without enmity from anyone. The truth is, that agape and spirituality apply to everyone, and that these mergences of common experience are not coincidence, but a part of the nature of God working through nature. There can be love of a spiritual kind among men, without the necessity of abomination or contact. And so I say clearly, that in the tennis match of life, I found love for Scott, as a brother, and fellow human, and look toward him as a good man to obtain knowledge from, or share knowledge with, or even possibly find wisdom through.

Some might call this comradeship, I cannot attest specifically to this, because I believe that communism is steeped in hatreds too old to be viewed as plausible for a leading existence in modern social action. I will call it only what it is. love. Comradeship implies leadership in a cause. And there is no cause, greater than that of the Son of God who died for our sins, also named aptly, love. I find brotherhood through his suffering, and know that I too suffer, and that everyone who has lived a day since Rome began to burn has suffered. And today, we are still in the fires of that fallen Empire. We are also however in the light of God, and through love, as I would share with my Father, or My Brothers, or my Sister, or my Mother, or any of my Aunts, Uncles, or Cousins, we may all be healed again.

May we all have awakenings similar to games as great as these.