Unplug -The Music Video

Today is the official US/World release of Unplug aka the Australian Music video.
It is the creation of the very talented Simon Trevorrow.

I hope you enjoy it.

I express my love with Pork

Last night I went and bought a 10 pound ham and took over the kitchen with a fit of frenzy. I prepared the ham in the tradition of my people, which involves pineapple slices and brown sugar.

Unsatisfied that ham alone is the full embodiment of comfort, I peeled, boiled and mashed potatoes with generous additions of butter, cream, salt and pepper.

I got some of those big foil roasting pans and prepared everything to take upstairs to Isaiah's grandmother. She was not home, which ulimately was a good thing as it gave the ham time to cool from third-degree-burn-straight-out-of-the-oven temperature to warm and ready to eat.

I heard the sound of people walking around which meant that someone was home.
When I got to the door, the next door neighbor saw me and just opened the door.

I walked into an apartment full of older women in flowered dresses all scuttling about. Isaiah's grandmother was not there, but one of the ladies helped me carry everything to the kitchen and then I departed. I hope that the ham goes to good use. I know it's hard to think of food when grieving, but I just hope that my love expressed through pork will warm their souls a bit.

Celebrating a Life/Losing Isaiah

Yesterday was K's birthday. We celebrated in grand style with a dinner of seafood namely our luxurious crustacean friend, mister Lobster. We then gathered with the lovely KL, DD and LMO for drinks. I feel very blessed to have K in my life and am
thankful that he was born and is alive and well. I could not have asked for
a better soul mate. I am truly blessed.

We were making our way back home, opening the apartment door when we ran into our friend Emma who lives one floor directly above us. She was on her way to the hospital. Her grandson Isaiah had been hit by a car and she informed us that he was unconscious. I could see the pain and distress in her eyes. I could sense the shock and I had a hard time taking in what she was saying. I tried to continue the acknowledgement/celebration of K's birthday, but I couldn't stop thinking about Isaiah.

We went about our evening trying not to think about Isaiah and finally went to bed.

This morning we woke to the sound of someone ringing our doorbell. K got up to answer it as I was still bleery-eyed and not yet ready to greet the morning. As soon as he opened the door, I could hear her cries "He's gone. He's gone" Everything else was muffled unintelligible echos swelling in the hallway. Konstantine returned to bed asking if I had heard and if I knew what she had said. I said I didn't think I wanted to know. He confirmed that I had heard correctly. He's gone.

Isaiah was 13 years old. He was a musician, a writer, a very special little man who
always addressed me by name and looked me in the eyes. He had kind eyes and a soul that glowed beyond his skin. There was something wise about him, an old soul. Isaiah had trouble walking due to being born with spina bifida. I'm not sure if this in part led to the tragic accident. I don't know all the details. I just know that he is gone and that his family now grieves. I find myself filled with overwhelming sadness to know that he died so young. He had many songs and stories to write that will go unwritten.

It is a tragedy like this that makes one really appreciate life and the loved ones we have. Every day could be our last and every moment is so important.

Isaiah, I am so sorry that you did not get to do everything you planned to do in this life. I hope that you are at peace. You will be missed.

I now find myself trying to decide what best food to cook for his family.
I know it's not exclusively a southern thing, but most of my upbringing being in the south, there is some automatic caserole instinct that kicks in and takes over. It is my knee jerk reaction to tragedy that I must turn the oven on. I must cook.

The Bottle(Lyrics)

To all the ones we left behind
who pray for us at supper time
and hang their clothes out on the line
and watch the time as it slips away

I hope you read these words I wrote,
a sentimental scrolled up note.
I threw the bottle
watched it float
then I watched it til it disappeared.

Beside the water stands a man
he holds a bottle in his hand
he pops the cork
wipes off the sand
he reads the words
but doesn't understand.

A tiny ship that doesn't float
its sails made from a crumpled note
and balsa wood and superglue
in a bottle that has sailed the blue.

It sits there on the mantle top
the logs shift and the fire pops
the ocean breeze, the ticking clock
a final breath
a heartbeat stops

Free Download of the Week- Fishnet Sailor

Thunder Down Under!

No, this is not the sound that my thighs make when I walk too briskly, but rather, well me trying to be cute, so sue me. Good luck with suing me btw, because that will about as financially fruitless a pursuit as trying to squeeze blood out of a bag of rocks.

So, anyway...
THUNDER DOWNUNDER!
Sounds kind of scary when you use CAPS and !!!!

So, anyway...
There are afterall samples of thunder in my song Unplug and Australia is referred to as "down under" thus thunder down under and some exciting news.

The music video for Unplug which was shot in Australia and directed by Simon Trevorrow premiered on ABC in Australia on Rage. The video is also currently a featured video on their website.

For now, this is the only place where you can watch the video as the Australian premiere and the US premiere are not in sync with each other, but that's ok. They're quite a few hours ahead of us and the video was born there, so it seems fitting tha they should see it first. Don't worry North America, Your day of glory will come soon enough.

Just an FYI, when I stated that the video premiered on ABC, I'm not referring to that Disney network but rather referring to the Australian Broadcasting Corporation. Think PBS or BBC but for Australia.

Robert Recommends/Diversions- Janelle Monáe

There is something quite special about 24 year old Janelle Monáe.
From her funky dykie black tie style to her James Brown and Michael Jackson
infused moves, I like this kid. She's got spunk and this song is like crack for your ears.

For Granted

I am a spoiled person.
I know this. It is something that also
makes me a difficult person at times.

I have this need or desire to
have things surrounding me in just the
right orchestration of space and sound.

Some people might call this selfishness.
perhaps they are right. I do think there
is an arrogance to it, that reeks of men
with their wars and mistakes.

I falter as a person on a daily basis
on so many levels. I feel at times like an utter
failure. Today I think is perhaps the penacle of that for me.

A moment when I wish I were a better person.
A moment when I come to realize that I take
so much in my life that is so precious for granted.
Yes, I think it is selfishness, arrogance, all those things.

The taste of it is rotting in my guts.
It makes my stomach cramp.

Diversions (Trouble)

This video and song seem to be speaking to me at the moment.

Wash Away (partial lyrics)

The man upstairs
is driving me crazy
pouring water
into the walls

and I'm grabbing napkins
towels
buckets
umbrellas
so I'll be ready
when the rain begins to fall.

Are you ready
for the water
are you ready
to wash away

The water keeps rising
every morning
but no one in town knows the reason why
and I had a dream that the buildings were islands
and that the ocean swallowed the sky.

Are you ready
for the water
are you ready
to wash away

Louise (lyrics)

At the bottom of the ocean
there's a woman named Louise.
You have to kiss her if you want to live
It's the only way to breathe.

Her mood shifts like the water
her eyes are cold like butter.
her lips are hot like pepper so
they burn you when you kiss her.

Louise's husband left her
one night while she was sleeping.
It's hard to see from under water
but Louise is always weeping.

This used to be a desert
many years ago.
She used to be so happy before
the tears began to flow.

There used to be a garden,
the only one for miles.
she sowed the seeds and pulled the weeds
and did it with a smile.

but her tears turned into puddles
and puddles turned to rivers
rivers turn to lakes and oceans
fishing towns and swimmers.

and at the bottom of the ocean
there's a woman named Louise
You have to kiss her if you want to live
It's the only way to breathe.

Don't Panic

Well,

It's officially been months since I've had a panic attack
or had to pop a litte white pill to get through the day.
This is a good thing. Songs have been flowing forth like water
from a spring I was worried was about to dry up. Many things are brewing
live shows, music videos, multiple albums, christmas songs (yes, I know it's early)
so stay tuned.

Lotsa Love

R

Old Man

I'm already an old man
nobody cares what an old man has to say
even if he walked 10 miles in the snow
uphill
both ways

The Drain/Ghosts

Life seems to be comprised of cycles, a swirling pool that spins round and round until you're finally sucked down the drain. Perhaps you hang on like a hairball until someone calls a plumber to clear the path you are blocking. Wow, doesn't that sound so delightfully pleasant? Each revolution round the whirlpool seems to bring me back to a time and place and/or to a person. They are older each time and a bit further from the glitter of our inital introduction. We don't fully recoginize each another. The whirlpool spins us round another time. Each time, the original picture fades a bit, until all is black

I went through a rough patch a few years back and that's putting it lightly. I'm generally more prone to exageration than understatement, but for this paragraph, I shall embrace subtelty. This rough patch if you will was a very specific bubble of existence for me with a group of people, a drinking problem (aka drowning your sorrows) and a feeling of death. I died inside. My life ended but my feet kept moving and my heart kept beating, but make no mistake that I died in 2003. Ok I'm back to exageration. Was it 2003? I'm not quite sure. It's all a blur at this point.

"You left my ass in Arizona with 15 bucks and half a corona" and needless to say, I ran into your ass on the street the other day and I cringed with every uncomfortable muscle in my body. You smiled like it was good to see me. You are so oblivious. It is not nor will it ever be good to see you.

So please, if you see me on the street, there is no need for a hello, because I am a toddler crawling through my second life. You are a ghost from my first. There are good memories that wash down the drain with the bad, but that which as gone down the drain is not meant to return. It drifts away to the sewer or the water treatment plant. Perhaps it shall live again in a glass of drinking water or an ice cube.





Now, I... I was reborn in 2007

God In The Telephone Book (live)

I had the privelage of sharing the stage with the very lovely Amy Clarke
at Sidewalk Cafe last month for a benefit concert she did for the victims
of the quake in Haiti. Amy is an extremely talented musician friend who used to
live in New York but alas, she left us for the left coast. She is missed.
Here is a clip of an improv version of God in The Telephone book, a yet to be release song of mine. Hope you enjoy.

R

Lemon Scented in the dark

I randomly stumbled upon this clip of me performing Lemon Scented in Montréal Canada in October of last year. The funny thing is that you can't really see me or the audience. It was a "secret show", so I guess the very obscured nature of this clip is rather appropriate. haha.

Diversions- Mad at the Dirt

This diversion is dedicated to the wonderful Mister Jason S. of D.U.M.B.O. Brooklyn and comes courtesy of the Yeast Radio where it recently was used as the opening song.
In case you are unfamiliar with that filth, Yeast Radio is a very twisted and slightly "racist"-for-"racist"-sake podcast that features True Dooty, the highlarious highjinx of the whorishly nasty Cheryl Merkowski.
I shouldn't admit that I listen to this grum, but I must admit that I'm rather addicted to it and the envelope pushing it employs.

Anyhoo. here's The Joans with Mad at the dirt. enjoy.

God in The Telephone Book- Lyrics

She met buddah on a downtown train
He said baby let me ease our pain
so she crossed her legs and she meditated when she could.

She met a friar with fleeting hair.
He said baby let me take you there so she
spread her legs in an abbey by the wood.
yes she did yes she did.

She found light wherever she looked.
She found light wheverer she looked.

She and lucifer had some tea.
He said baby won't you live with me.
I've got a killer view and the heat is free
no broker's fee.

So she sold her soul and she bought some shoes.
Good things always come in toes. She sang in red
where she used to sing in blue.
yes she did yes she did yes she did.

She found light wherever she looked.
She found light wherever she looked.

She and lucifer said goodbye.
She couldn't live with the heat so high.
She said you'd be surprised.
He's a real nice guy.

So she drove her car through the bible belt.
She thought she might find god there, she felt,
but the more she drove, the more like hell it smelled.
yes it did yes it did yes it did.

She found light wherever she looked.
She found light wherever she looked.
She found god in the telephone book.

The Delicate Butterfly

It is odd for me to think of myself as delicate or fragile, a butterfly that so easily can be squashed by a careless foot or hand. Alas, it is lately how I feel. Last week, after months of doing very well, I found myself once again rushing to see the doctor, thinking I was having a heart attack. They again did an EKG and again told me my vital signs were normal and that I am suffering from panic disorder. The only solution they have for something like that of course is pills...the kind that make you feel like you're walking underwater with a skull full of jello. I have been trying to live in the now and not imagine a vast array of tragic future scenarios that send my mind racing in circles and my heart pounding out of my chest. It is not easy for me. I think I need to be reprogrammed, taken into a room where some very congenial lady in a white coat can show me pictures of smiling people and kittens and sunshine and pumpkin patches and infuse my brain with the imagery it needs to relax and just be ok with everything.
Perhaps it's time for me to finally have that lobotamy I've been saving up for. Perhaps they can reach into my head and scoop out the parts that have me on tip toes balancing on pins and needles like a circus animal, gritting my teeth with every breath.
perhaps...

being visited by the ghosts of the living while wearing JFK Junior's shoes

A few days ago, on our way to the grocery store, Konstantine and I encountered an older Caribbean woman, as is a fairly regular occurance in our neighborhood. The woman was sort of babbling something and staring at the ground and Konstantine thought she was talking to him, so he responded to her. She responded by saying "not you, him" and pointed at my shoes. She went off on an entire rant about John F. Kennedy Junior and how he used to wear shoes just like mine. I just sort of smiled and nodded, responding "yes, they're great shoes. I love them". She said something like "he was really good to us" and then wandered off down the street. Just to be clear, the shoes being mentioned are two toned black and white saddle oxfords, so it's understandable that they might evoke more attention than a tennis shoe or plain black shoe.

In completely unrelated news, I have been visited in my sleep twice this week by the ghosts of living canadian musicians. First, it was Patrick Watson and then it was Joni Mitchell. Joni had this really cool guitar pedal in the shape of a high heal shoe and made me do a session of sing-a-long with her. I don't know what this all means, but hey at least it's interesting.

Sally (a demo) - sneak sneak peek available for listening til March 16th

In the murky waters of my mind has been a project titled "The Ocean & The Easel".
The best way I can describe it is that it is a soundtrack to a sort of movie musical that is nautically themed. Recently I've been working on a demo for one song from that project in my studio at home. Here is a preview which I will leave up for a week and then it will magically disappear. Yes, it's based on a children's tongue twister. Yes. I may have lost my mind.

***Alas, the time has expired on this sneak peak.

currently on the turntable- Harry Belafonte sings of the Caribbean

One of the things that I love about vinyl records (besides the sound)
is that many songs that were originally released on vinyl were never transferred
to CD or the digital realm. Typically you can find an artist's greatest hits
and their very popular albums, but when you buy an old record, your ears get treated
to musical gems that many people haven't heard in years if ever at all.

The most recent addition to my vinyl collection falls into that category. It has never been released on itunes.
It is Harry Belafonte sings of the caribbean, released in 1957 and in perfect condition. Here's one of the other things I love about vinyl. I bought the entire album for $3 from a guy selling vinyl out of a paper box on 7th avenue.

In these tough economic times, you can't beat the price.

Robert Recommends: Patty Griffin's Downtown Church

My history with organized Christianity is a sordid one, or rather one littered with guilt and pain. As the great Tori Amos once sang "I've got enough guilt to start my own religion". It has taken me years of healing to separate my issues with organized religion from the power and beauty of gospel music.

Patty Griffin is an incomparable songwriter and has enough soul to be her own church choir. So, it makes sense that she should do a gospel album and let me just say that after listening to it a few times through, I think my soul has been save. hallelujah.



Patty Griffin's Website

The Rant Book Club Selection for March

Setlist

On Sunday I had the privilege of being part of a group of artists who gathered in Greenpoint Brooklyn to create a local music record store and performance space for one day. It was truly a magical event called Mayfly which was organized in part by a very lovely musician friend of mine by the name of Lara Ewen. Lara and I met a couple years back while I was on tour. We did a show in Worcester Massachusetts and have stayed friends ever since.

The sense of community and love that I felt at the Mayfly event was amazing.
I got such a warm reception from everyone and also got to see some very talented musicians perform as well. We all did short sets so it was like a musical buffet for all to enjoy.

My set was as follows:

1. Walking Song
2. Mister Carpentier
3. God in The Telephone Book (vocal experimental version)
4. Lemon Scented

You can read more about the awesome event called Mayfly
by going to their blog.

Diversions: Joanna Newsom

Lately I have found my fingers tickling the ivories quite a bit, so to speak.
I have no formal training on piano, nor have I ever performed anything live
on any form of keyboard.
I have been quietly working on my third album whilst my second album is still in that
netherworld between completion and release into the world. The third album is an ocean themed soundtrack for a movie musical that only exists in some strange place in my head.

The two tracks that have been holding the majority of my focus are titled "Sally" and "The Seaman's Warf". In the next week, I will try to post a little snippet of Sally for your listening pleasure(hopefully pleasure)....

Until then, keeping with my ocean themed brain, here's an artist who has been starting to seep into my conciousness, a rather unique harpist/songwriter/etc by the name of Joanna Newsom with her song "Clam, Crab, Cockle, Cowrie"

Diversions: Brazil edition

This afternoon is sponsored by Brazil and a crazy tranny who should be an inspiration to us all.
Don't give up on your dreams, even if you have to rip the wig right off a ho to
acheive the crown.

My Heart goes out to Haiti

In the blink of an eye everything can change.
It is a delicate line that we tread with nature.

Yesterday, a Magnitude 7 earthquake rocked the very foundation of Haiti.
Killing 100,000 people, according to Haiti's prime minister.

"The largest earthquake to hit Haiti in more than 200 years rocked the Caribbean nation Tuesday, collapsing a hospital and heavily damaging other buildings. U.S. officials reported bodies lying in the streets and an aid official described "total disaster and chaos." -AP

My heart goes out to those who have died, lost loved ones, lost homes, etc.
So sad...

Currently on the turntable- Fame Monster

As many of you know, I puchase music almost exclusively on vinyl if it is available in that format. For me, personally, I find that the sound is much warmer and less processed sounding. MP3's never really sound fully right to me, like listening to a mosaic of an image instead of a crisp clear picture.

I do not typically listen to a great deal of pop music and generally couldn't tell you what songs or artists are popular or what their songs are. There are some exeptions. I don't hate pop music. It has its place. Sometimes I want a steak and sometimes I want bubblegum.

Currently on the turntable is a xmas gift from Konstantine, Lady Gaga's Fame Monster on picture vinyl. I must say that as steak flavored bubblegum goes, I'm enjoying it.

Robert Recommends: I Like You

I got a wonderful Christmas gift from K that has brought me a great deal of joy.
It helped me to laugh while angry midwestern women with bad hair were gnashing their teeth and complaining as we sat through 2 delays that left us sitting on the runway for 2 1/2 hours during our trek home from Kansas. (more about that another time) I did almost strangle a woman with my bare hands, but thanks to the humorous musings on entertaining from the lovely Amy Sedaris, said woman triumphed to live and complain another day.

If you haven't seen Strangers with Candy, her derganged sit-com that used to be on comedy central, then you haven't lived. If you have seen it and love her off kilter brand of humor, then you will adore this book.

Don't take my word for it though.

Buy the Book
Visit Amy's Website

Pine Mouth

image randomly stolen from the internet following a google search. uncredited, so sue me.

"WHAT?"You may be asking yourself is pine mouth?

It is not some after-effect of chewing on a pinecone or a post holiday sydrome brought about by humping the Christmas tree. It may sound like a joke or a made-up phrase or some sort of sister to the dreaded pot smoker's cotton mouth, but I assure you that pine mouth is none of these things and is yet very serious business.

I will share my story with you today. Hopefully, my tale of bitter whoa will help to spare you from the agony that I suffered. Like countless others, I fell victim to this dreaded condition for almost two weeks, just in time for christmas dinner. Our stories are countless. Many of us suffer in silence, in the shadows. Today I step into the light to speak of my tribulation.

A few weeks ago, We received an early Christmas gift from my mother. It was a cuisinart griddler, a great tool in the making of panini, the Italian grilled glamour sandwich. I was so exciited that I ran to whole foods and bought a bunch of pine nuts to make pesto along with an assortment of cheeses, sun dried tomatoes and ecoutrement to immerse myself body and soul into the ancient art of panini.

I should mention that the bag of pinenuts I purchased was rather large. When I got home, I began ecstatically chopping up the garlic, basil and pine nuts for my pesto (using this recipe). I was hungry, which is a constant state for me. My pet tape worm felix requires constant attention, and I generally oblige. I shoved a handful of pinenuts into my mouth and gobbled them down. One handful led to two, led to three, led to....well, six. Ok. I'm a pig. I gorged myself on pinenuts and then ate a panini with lots of pesto on it. K and Laura did not consume the quantity of pine nuts that I did, but they did enjoy the luxurious lusciousness of my homemade pesto on their sandwiches.

In an ideal world my story would end here, with a full belly and a happily ever after and maybe a Post script titled "midnight bacon snack". Alas, dear readers, my story begins two days after my flirtation with panini and my glutenous mouth affair with the temptress known as pine nut.

On Thursday morning (2 days after panini) I woke up and grabbed my morning cup of coffee. When I took my first sip, it tasted, well, off. It was bitter and rotten tasting. I just thought perhaps my corner coffee shop had made a bad batch or something. Lunch time rolled around and I took a bight of my lunch. It tasted bitter, mettalic and rotten. I began to worry. What was wrong with me?

I contacted my doctor A.K.A. a google search of my symptoms...sudden bitter taste in mouth. Oddly enough an article about pine nuts came up. I read of the phenomenon known as pine mouth. Multiple people 1-3 days after ingesting pine nuts experienced a bitter metalic taste with all food and drink lasting for up to 2 weeks. I looked for a remedy and found that not only does no one know the cause of pine mouth but there is not cure except to just let it run its course. I also discovered that this phenomenon seemed to be specific for the most part to pine nuts grown in china.

I was confused because the pine nuts I bought were Whole Foods own brand. Surely Whole Foods with its whole organic produce philosophy would not be importing its pine nuts from a country with the most questionable farming practices in the world? right?
I called Whole Foods and was told that all their own label foods including the pine nuts were grown here in the United States. I didn't take their word for it though. I went into the store to double check this and surely enough MADE IN CHINA was on a sticker on the back of the pine nuts.

I went online and found multiple articles on pine mouth and chinese pine nuts and like the crazy cat lady that I am, I stapled and paperclipped all the articles and walked back into whole foods and asked to speak to the manager. He of course looked at me like I was crazy and I insisted that he look at my documentation on pine mouth and that the pine nuts should have a warning or be removed from the shelves. He said he would forward the information to their corporate headquarters.

Continuing on my rampage of outrage, I wrote and email to corporate Whole Foods. Almost immediately I received a form letter response that was specific to pine mouth. Whole Foods was completely aware that they were selling a product that could make everything their customer ate for up to 2 weeks taste bitter. Unsatisfied by this form letter, I sent an email of outrage and a request that they warn customers of this issue or find another source for their pine nuts. Their response was basically that I could return the pine nuts for a refund and that they were sorry.

I now have a boycott on whole foods. Any company that would knowingly sell tainted pine nuts and have a form letter prepared to fire off at angry customers is not a company that I will ever again support with my business.

My pine mouth lasted for two weeks. The only things that tasted normal were scotch and broccoli, but I forced myself to eat the bitter tasting things instead of becoming an alcoholic cruciferous vegetable addict. Actually I already am a bit of a cruciferous vegetable addict and with the many health benefits of being one, why not?

So, consider this your warning. Something strange is going on with pine nuts. The FDA is investigating it and nobody knows what causes pine mouth, but believe me, you don't want to have it.

11 and 176 days

It's 11 days since my lips have touched the sweet booze nectar, the lubricant
of conversation and the creator or casualty and miscommunication

It is 176 days since I've had a cigarette, the former object of my oral fixation.

It is too many days since I've been on a relaxing vacation.

It's about time to turn on a dime and tour the nation.

Sally

Photo of & by Carrie Thomas

Sally Sells Seashells by the Seashore
She wanted to go to college
but her parents couldn't afford to send her
She went to the bank
but they didn't have money that they would lend her
so sally sells her shells in a shack by the sea
gonna save all her money
gonna move to the city...

where the cars are always beepin'
and the people are never sleepin'
and the lights are always flickerin'
in your eye eye eyes

and the sky is the limit
if you can dream it, you can have it
cuz the stars are on the street not in the sky

and even if you're starving it's romantic and it's charming
like some charlie chaplin film they used to play.
where he asks her out to dinner
but he cannot pay the waiter
and there's a fly in every soup in that cafe.

and he tells her that he loves her
and she says she'll have his babies
and they marry by the sea and then they stay.
and he builds her a little shack where she can sell her little trinkets
and it's not quite what she planned, but it's ok.

and we give up every dream we had
give up every dream we had
We give up every dream we had for love

and we give up every dream we had
give up every dream we had
gladly give up every dream we had for love

Jumble

At the end of October, I travelled to Vermont and finished the final mixes on my 2nd album. I also got to spend some quality time with my very good friend Chris who lives in Burlington and to take in a couple of wonderful live shows.

After Vermont, I trekked up to Montreal Canada and did a small performance. An extremely significant consequence of my trip to Vermont and Montreal was the loss of a friend. To me this loss has felt like a death. This person with whom I took my northern trip is not dead. I think it makes it even harder, because I have never been good at letting go of people, even if those people are hurting me. I thought my sadness over this loss had passed in December, but in the last week I find myself haunted by memories. I wish I could say that the memories were bad memories of horrible things this person did, which might make sense of it all. Unfortunately or fortunately, depending on my perspective, these memories are almost all good, fun, happy memories. It is this which makes it that much harder and that much more painful for me. I find myself bombarded with flashes of a nostalgic look back at a friendship that is no more. I know that this person is still walking this earth, still there, but to me now, only as a part of my memory, a frozen sketch of moments in time, mashed together in some sort of obscene impressionistic jumble. The complexities of untangling them into some sort of cohesive fashion, sadly feel rather insurmountable.