Caught by the River.

iPod tendencies for the week include Doves, Doves, Doves, Doves, DOVES, Doves and more Doves. Also, brushing up on my mid-90's Springsteen in preparation for April 10th in Denver. Because, clearly, the most responsible thing to do when you're jobless and preparing for a move is spend $150 to get close enough for Springsteen to sweat on me. DEAR JESUS, if that's not responsibility, then I don't know what is.

Speaking of New Jersey...


Welcome to Newark. Where taggers are kind enough to censor their art. Clearly, they care about their community.

And welcome to a New Jersey post.


Circles and squares. We flew out Saturday with surprisingly few mishaps. Probably the best part of having a disabled mother, and she'll attest to this too, is the early boarding. One of the most interesting parts are the wheel chair drivers the airport provides. Some of them are super slow and very talkative. Others are speed racers and barely say a word. In Albuquerque, the wheel chair lady had Downs Syndrome, practically ran my mother through the airport and had no problem jamming her through lines and crowds of people. I was barely able to keep up. It was seriously a walk of shame, trailing behind them. I felt like apologizing to everyone that got plowed over. However, I think at that point, me and Mom needed some serious comedy. Dear God, please bless the mentally impaired. Thank you.


We flew over a wind farm. I am assuming this is San Jon, but I'm not sure.


At 27,000 feet.



DFW is nothing short of lovely.


And they have an iPod vending machine. Recession, by the way.


We got into Newark close to 11:30 on Saturday night. We ate some pizza and slept the best we could. It was nice to have a day before the services to sort of mellow, start the gradual process of going through things. family came over, some of which I hadn't seen in years and years.


These are my cousins Mike and Gina. They're siblings. And Mike just had a baby with his wife Kristen. And this is right before Gina's precious yorkie bit baby Landon.

I can't even begin to express my gratitude to that baby. 90% of the time, I still feel perpetually awkward around children. It's not that I don't like them, I'm terrified of breaking them. But it was just so amazing to have that much life around. And comedy. Landon liked to vomit a lot, but he was so silent about it. He would just open his mouth, no noise, no warning, and this flood would spout out. Didn't ever phase him.

It also helped that Landon has the exact same head as my grandpa. Exact same!


Gina doesn't have children. Gina has Niko. She needs nothing else.


Later that night, Gina took me to the diner closest to G-Pa's house for disco fries and coffee. This is, in fact, the quintessential Jersey experience. Considering I love diners so much, maybe I should move there and not Oklahoma. But, the owner of the diner asked Gina how my grandfather was doing. While it's never the best news to report, it was sweet of him to ask.

I didn't take any pictures at the services. It didn't feel right. But it all took place on Monday. First, we went to the funeral home, which was the hardest part for me. Grandpa was cremated and I'm fine with that. But, seeing the flowers that people sent really got to me. Especially the bouquet from the Eldorado, the building he worked for. After that was mass. My mom made awesome jokes there about how all the statues looked like they were levitating. Then, we went to the cemetery/mausoleum. Grandpa went in the same spot as his wife. The cemetery was very nice; great view of the city. There were really tall grave markers and huge, massive tombs for people. Gina kept talking about getting one for her and Niko and having it say "Gina", nothing else. After that was certainly my favorite part, and Grandpa's favorite part, the eating at the local VFW.

Lots of family came. 3 out of 4 of Grandpa's daughters were there; Madeline, my mom and Colette. Colette's kids were there; the previously mentioned Gina and Mike, with Mike's husband Kristen and baby Landon. Also present were cousins Jackie and Suzanne, and Jackie's husband Mike. And family from Canada! My mom's cousin Rene and his daughter Lucie came, the ones I stayed with in Quebec, and another of my mother's cousins Aline. If I ever do make babies, I will have the easiest time naming them since I have all these beautiful French names in my family.


Me and cousin Rene gettin down.


My mom found these ducks on Grandpa's garage. She took one and gave Rene the other.


Very Flattering Me and Lucie.


Probably my favorite image from the entire affair. Stuff like this is what made it bearable.


This one is a close second. There's actually an entire series of images of my cousin Gina embarrassing my mom.

I spent most of Tuesday in the City. It's a fantastic place to lose yourself. And that was exactly what I needed to do after the emotional battering ram of Monday.


Ducks as big as big as sky scrapers. Just keeping things is perspective.

My first stop was the B&H Photo Superstore. And let me tell you photo nerds, that place is shier madness. So many people! Also, a good 90% of the employees were wearing yamakas. After that, I rode the Subway to Central Park West and 88th; the Eldorado rests at CPW and 90th. Since it was so close, I ducked into Central Park and walked around the Jacqueline Onassis Reservoir, where the above photo is taken. This is at the far north of the lake, looking south.


And this is looking west. The building in the middle is the Eldorado.


Little metal "M"s mean the Met. Which was next stop. I actually didn't do much looking. I sat amongst the Roman busts and the Egyptian tombs for a while, listening to the crowds and watching school groups wind through the sprawl of that place.

After that, I hiked over to the CBS store in Times Square to get a Late Show shirt and got back on the bus for NJ for a dinner date.


Last time I was in New Jersey, I spent some time with my mom's friend Linda. Her and Linda met when my mom was barely 20, they lived in the same building. They've stayed in touch over the years and needless to say, they are absolutely adorable when they're together.


We left Wednesday. It was a sad goodbye to the red brick house on Sabina Street and to New Jersey as well. I don't think Mom knows when she'll be back. But, by that point, I was more than happy to get home and get back to normal.


Flying over the Appalachians. In the East, mountains are actually hills. But they are pretty.

On getting things back to normal... I can't tell you how happy I am to be home and out of February. I am happy I went to New Jersey. It wasn't an easy thing, as this was only the 5th funeral I've ever been to. Grandpa is the first person I've lost in my family that I was close with. I think there's still a long way for me to go with it, but I know that it would have him very, very happy to have all of us together.


This was the sunset in Santa Fe the night he passed away. There was something awesome in walking outside of work to that. It always seems to work out that way; the weather seems to understand when big, huge moments are taking place in your life and it tries to help you remember them.

Anyway, glad to be home and back to doing my thing. Work is madness, I'll probably be here till midnight tonight.

Packing.

it's like you took the giant christmas tree
at rockafella center and
you spread it paper thin
but you were careful not to break a bulb
and then you mirrored it a million fold
to shine
and shine
and shine along

and there's a tap on my knee
bring up your seat back please, she says
but I know she means
if you feel like dancing
dance with me

some of the lights below
shine directly on the people I know
their lives take such strange shapes
but how together they appear from above
I guess that could be love
my friends
my friends
I'm coming home

and then the captain speaks
it's clear and 44 degrees
but I know he means
if you feel like dancing
dance with me

but I been out past the lights
where the jagged black begins
i let my heels sink in the sand
and the ocean sucked it's teeth
and the cold cuts through my feet
and stretched out on and on and on

how disconnected I can feel on the ground
it's like I'm shining all alone
and i don't wanna be
so
before i go to bed tonight
i'll signal up to the passing flight
hit the lights
the lights
the lights
the lights

and now the man in the middle seat
recites the times tables audibly
but i know he means
if you feel like dancing
dance with me
if you feel like dancing
dance with me

I don't post lyrics very often, it at all, but I've been relying heavily on my favorite collections of chords and melodies these last few days. I think Flight 180 by Bishop Allen will be the only reason I'll find my way to the Sunport this morning.

Off to the Garden State, I go. I thought about watching that movie last night, but under circumstances, I couldn't even fathom how much it would break my heart. I'd like to hide in my bed for the next 4 days, rather than attend memorial after funeral after rosary after family reunion. Going to New Jersey forces me to deal with it, and I really don't want to do that. Not yet, at least. Maybe that's mean to say, but I think we all think that.

We'll be staying in Grandpa's red house. I can't even get over how bizarre that'll be. But, there's no internet there. I'd follow me via twitter. Unlike most of you, I have no fancy internet phone (not yet anyway. Sometimes I hear the white iPhones singing for me at night.) so texting away my 140 characters is an acceptable substitute.

Wish me luck, there's storms back east. And while I think it'll be pretty and symbolic, it makes flying into Newark that much worse.

Friedenville!

West-bound.


I left the red house in Little Ferry on Monday, as planned. It was a little sad to see it, and my grandfather waving wildly from the window, go but I had five great weeks getting to know him and getting to visit the bestest city in the history of the bestest. All my life I've wanted to see what it would be like to live in New York/New Jersey, to be part of that massive flow of commuters, to actually BE a New Yorker, not just an observer. Well, it turns out I'm an observer in general. But, I do feel like I managed to blend in pretty well.


My last view of 'er. I'll be there again soon.

I headed through New Jersey (amazing fact: I tried really freaking hard to find some NJ souvenirs, postcards even. I guess, no one wants to prove they were in New Jersey. I stopped at at least six places along the way.) for my Aunt Madeline's house in Pennsylvania. She lives real close to the Jersey border, so it was really just a prep drive for the massive driving I'll be doing the next two weeks.


Smile!


Aunt Madeline is, by definition, a cat lady. She’s just got a big heart. She used to have lots and lots of feral cats that lived around her house and she started feeding them in the winters. She always had one or two actual domestic cats inside, but recently the ferals have ventured inward, in more of an attempt to keep them from breeding. So now, she’s got seven indoor cats: Paulette, Simone, Unis, Timmek, Mitch, Carly and Trevor. She still has 4 ferals hanging out, a dramatic decrease from the 17 that were here last time I visited, but she’s managed to trap two of them (and many more over the years) and get them fixed. See, big heart.


Timmek's my favorite because he's only got one eye.


I spent a few very relaxing days in Pennsylvania binging on One Tree Hill and the OC on soapnet. What the hell is it about those two shows that lends themselves so well to mindless days? I hate them when I’m busy, but on sick days or vacation days, man, am I ever down with some Adam Brody. Nope, not proud to admit that. At all.

And today, I headed through Pennsylvania.


And Ohio.


To get to Michigan.

Almost 600 miles. Thankfully, I had someone with me to help with the driving.


The bitterly cold motor city welcomed me back. Detroit is the first “double up” of my trip, one of only two places I’ll visit twice. The other is of course, Oklahoma. I can’t ignore my room, now can I? My main reason for coming back was for Ben Folds and the Ann Arbor Folk Festival tomorrow night, but I think it’ll be fantastic to spend some more time with cousin Jackie. We might head to Cleveland for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. I mean, why not?

But right now, sleep. Thank you.

You got eyes.

When I don't blog, it normally means someone is visiting me, therefore it's rude to excuse myself for several hours of myspace-coma. And true to history...


My boyfriend's here.

We've been museum-ing, visiting the AMNH and the Met, but mostly just pacing ourselves, taking New York in bite sized portions. But that probably means we'll be bingeing the next two days. His trip is already almost over! :(

One of the awesome things we did was going to the Late Show with David Letterman. I'm a pretty big Letterman fan, grew up on him really. So, I was pretty excited. And it was a completely Writers Guild-friendly act, since he, and his company, settled already. Not surprisingly, they've got it down to a science, getting people in and out of the theater nice and quiet-like. We ended up being seated in the balcony, something that made me somewhat grumpy, but not much because it gave us a better view of that gorgeous old theater. House gots some history. And that was really the exciting thing for me, being there, in that theater. The show itself was okay, we were in and out in about an hour. Got to see Morgan Freeman and Tom Brokaw in person. Paul Schaffer and the CBS Orchestra is a pretty awesome band, by the way.

Today we had a Jersey adventure with my fantastically Jersey-an cousin Gina. She took us through Newark, since she goes to Rutgers Newark and needed to buy books. Then, we ended up at a very crowded Cheesecake Factory for maybe the biggest meal I've ever eaten. I don't care what anyone says. Newark (and Detroit!) really aren't that scary! Just don't go dumb places with dumb people and dumb things won't happen to you! Newark is no more ghetto than the Burque war zone. But I really liked Newark because THERE WAS A BOJANGLES THERE.

The Met is probably the greatest art institution in the western world. I've never been there, shockingly enough, but it really is a fantastic place, The Egypt rooms and all the Roman/Greek stuff was not shockingly awesome, but I really liked the musical instruments they have there. Also, it's pay as you wish, admission is only a suggested donation. And a tip, it's open late on Fridays and Saturdays. And much less crowded.

In case you're not myspace friends with Maria (and you really should be) go do that now and go look at all the fantastic pictures she took in New York.

I feel my time in New Jersey winding down. I might be happy to head for a different place and do some more exploring. But, there's still so much here I've got to explore. There is a chance I'll head down to Washington DC for a few days, if I can budget it, and Smithsonian until my face falls off. And maybe interview for an internship at Newsweek. And you all thought I was being a deadbeat on this trip! :)

Fighting clarity.

A guy walking out of Panera as I was walking in just told me "I hope you don't mind if I tell you how adorable you are." AWW! I am adorable! See, why can't more men be like that, instead of all, "Damn baby!". Some dude on the subway licked their lips at Maria. I wanted to vomit.

So, my grandfather is 88, in case you were curious. I like to think he's my my families American dream. He gave up his Canadian citizenship to fight in World War II. He had the same job as a super for the Eldorado Apartments across the street from Central Park for 47 years. He still lives on his own, even after a triple bypass. He goes shopping at the Shop Rite once a week with his friend Bill Burke. They're both WWII vets and they both hang out at the American Legion. My grandpa also goes to mass every Sunday and still eats fish on Fridays. He's probably the most adorable old man you could ever hope to meet, completely set in his ways and completely ready to feed you an 8 course meal at any given moment. However, he does still use the term "coloreds". He refers to all Asian people as Koreas and all hispanic people as Puerto Ricans.

But, the problem of all problems with dear old gramps is his hearing. The man is deaf. I don't talk to him, I shout at him. And in his old age, he's taken to telling stories. He really has interest in hearing your stories, he just wants to tell his. So much so in fact he'll interrupt you repeatedly if he doesn't like what you're talking about. Spending time with him is just a wee bit tedious, But I've gotten used to it. So much so in fact, I think I've called my mom a few times and yelled at her, just because I'm so used to that vocal volume by now.

But, it's nice to say I actually have a relationship with my grandfather now. And of course, I don't mind the eating thing. We all know I can put some of that away.

Yesterday I went to the Whitney for my yearly dose of pretension. And oh, I got it. I stand by this... I do not get about 70% of video instillation work in galleries. I guess I just don't, like, understand what the artist is trying to convey about the pressures of society and being a minority, buuuuut, really now. I guess I have high hopes for it. I get really excited every time I start watching video work, but I can't stand it after about a minute. Maybe I've just seen the cream of the crop already, since I had such awesome teachers at UNM. OR MAYBE I NEED TO BE MAKING MY OWN. I did really enjoy stuff from Danny Lyon, Kara Walker, and Lawrence Weiner. But the Weiner (hehe) and Walker exhibits were so crowded, it was hard (hehe) to see everything.

On that note, I'm reading Paint It Black, the new Janet Fitch book right now. And SIGH. Honestly, I wasn't that big of a White Oleander fan, I think her females are just so damn whiny and melodramatic. And in this one, the protagonist just happens to be a punk rocker. I don't know if anyone else gets this, but I just CANNOT stand prose about music, especially stuff about punk rock. It either sounds like name pretentious name dropping or stereotypical MTV. I think that's why I just fell in love with Nick Hornby, he really seems to be the one author I can tolerate it from. But, I'm trying to get through it, learn from it, because I think I hate my prose about music just as much.

I'm beginning to see the end of my trip in the horizon. Of course, it saddens me, but I am quite excited about certain things, like being able to bake homemade bread. Have an actual closet. Being able to invite people over to MY PLACE. My own secure internet connection. Getting a new pet. Did I mention that Annie is longer mine? Without a doubt, she's better off with my grandma and grandma adores her.

I'll be settling, domesticating if you will, around February 6th, if I calculate traveling time right. So I'm giving myself Lent to figure out a job that I can at least tolerate for a while and a place to pay rent. And where? Well, we shall see, won't we? 40 days is a long time.

Let the factories rust.

Slowly but surely, the Garden State is winning me over.

I thought I'd come here and have dreams of West Village lofts, daily walks in Washington Square Park, neighborhood bakeries and thai restaurants. But I find myself fantasizing small, reinvaded condos in factories in the burbs, flower pots in my big windows, crappy-paying internships at equally crappy television stations, a bus pass for the NJ Transit.

More about all that, and pictures of luminarias later in the week.

Do you know what is totally DOWN if you haven’t listened to it in about 2 years? Bright Eyes. Do you like to hurt? I do, I do. Then, hurt meeeeeeeeeeeee. Correct. Also, the Doves “NY” is quite possibly the perfect song for the Lincoln Tunnel.