ad astra!

Jimmy Buffet Party 2007

Originally uploaded by Paul Pellerito.

Here’s another one of my favorite pictures; Angie’s brother Trebor at the Jimmy Buffett party last year. He just looks so happy!! And he’s not even drunk yet!

let’s upgrade to the newest version of wordpress… (dot… dot… dot…)

and k2!! Well it was a struggle, but it worked. There lots of stylesheet/template/formatting stuff I have to deal with yet, but I’m calling it a… day.

(and I still feel cut up and half dead)

I’ve been chasing after this for… fourteen years?… and I’m still no close to understanding.

I think now I’m old enough to know and recognize and what exactly this thing we call ‘love’ is. But I’m not any nearer to understanding it. Why do I love him so much? Why do I miss him so much? haven’t seen him in… fifteen days, but it feels like… I dunno. I’m struggling with the perception of time lately; it seems like it was just January. But still, we haven’t really talked in a week, and I’m used to talking to him nearly every day. And I miss that. I miss the… happiness I feel when I’m in his company. But… part of me wants to get used to being without him (and yet another part wouldn’t mind never seeing him again) and a part of me wants to see him as soon as I can.

Whisky. Tango. Foxtrot.

Maybe somewhere within and beyond all the pain, all the longing, all the desire, all the suffering—is the answer.
(…only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)

Maybe not.

Who the hell knows. All I can know and understand right now is that there’s a man sleeping somewhere in Minnesota that I both love and can’t understand (and may never) and I haven’t seen him in fifteen days and I miss him more than I can recall missing… anything. I’m fairly certain he doesn’t miss me quite as much. Even knowing this, why is there this psychological resistance to… I dunno… thinking about other things? I can barely put the letters together to construct the words for how I feel—let alone comprehend what those words might possibly signify. (sound + fury = nothing??? … nothing = nothing… … I soar swiftly through the stratosphere… thoughts are my feathers… synapses my eddies…)

trounce |trouns|
verb [ trans. ]
defeat heavily in a contest

Yes, I believe trounced is the proper word for what I did to Patrick in Rummy tonight.
580 to 285.

Spent a long weekend at Brad’s in Ann Arbor/Ypsilanti. I’m enjoying these weekends without internet/computer, especially since I seem to be on it all the damned time. Brad got my back & some birthday stuff, so it was nice. We had some nice long conversations.

Didn’t go to work today… it’s er, personal.

Happy birthday to me! (and to you, too, jimbo!)

190 years before I was born, the Tennis Court Oath took place.

The Tennis Court Oath (French: serment du jeu de paume) was a pivotal event during the French Revolution. The Oath was a pledge signed by 576 members out of 577 of France’s Third Estate and a few members of the First Estate during a meeting of the Estates-General of 20 June 1789 in a tennis court near the Palace of Versailles.They were led by Mirabeau and Abbe Sieyes. As of 17 June 1789 this group began to call themselves the National Assembly,^[1] which became the name of the primary French legislative body.

On the morning of 20 June the deputies were shocked to discover that the doors to their chamber were locked and guarded by soldiers. Immediately fearing the worst and anxious that a royal coup was imminent, the deputies congregated in a nearby indoor handball court where they took a solemn collective oath “never to separate, and to meet wherever circumstances demand, until the constitution of the kingdom is established and affirmed on solid foundations”.^[2]

Want to know what President Carter was doing the day I was born??

Click here!

I suspect the missed call made by Senator Donald W. Riegle, Jr. (D-Michigan) at 09:02 was made to inform the President of my birth.

Yes, assholes, I was born during the Carter Administration…

You strike me as needing hard liquor at all times… “thanks…” This would be good for you in your car!

Jim Gaffigan

I wrote another poem. No idea if it’s crap or not, but I seem to like it enough.

I’m almost 29. I’m not sure how I feel about that, but I guess feeling good or bad isn’t going to change anything. I’m glad I still act pretty young. 8 years ago I was told I was too serious, maybe now I’m not quite serious enough, but I definitely am more mature. I was thinking about the years 2000-2002 and how those years changed everything, and how far away they are now. Certainly threw me off a track I haven’t been able to get back on, but if anything I’ve certainly learned that life goes on with or without you, and in fact your own life tends to go on even if it’s against your own wishes. A wise man once told me that you’re always starting out from where you’re at, no matter where that is. He also said “things can only be the same once” which is one of the best things I’ve ever heard. So regardless of how off track the original plan I’ve become, on the whole I’m glad to be where I am and to have had life bring me here. It’s sure been a bumpy ride (and I’m rather certain it’ll only get bumpier in the years ahead) but it’s my ride all the way.

It was about ten years ago I figured out the meaning of life, so to speak, is that (in following the axiom “life is what you make of it”) the only meaning in life is the meaning we create for ourselves… which is to say that the universe means nothing save the meaning we might choose to apply to it. Which can be either hopeful or bleak, as you like.

I’m not exactly sure what else I’m trying to say here, but after 29 years love and life (especially love) is still a mystery to me. Here’s a poem about whales.

Whales Weep Not!
by D. H. Lawrence

They say the sea is cold, but the sea contains
the hottest blood of all, and the wildest, the most urgent.

All the whales in the wider deeps, hot are they, as they urge
on and on, and dive beneath the icebergs.
The right whales, the sperm-whales, the hammer-heads, the killers
there they blow, there they blow, hot wild white breath out of
   the sea!

And they rock, and they rock, through the sensual ageless ages
on the depths of the seven seas,
and through the salt they reel with drunk delight
and in the tropics tremble they with love
and roll with massive, strong desire, like gods.
Then the great bull lies up against his bride
in the blue deep bed of the sea,
as mountain pressing on mountain, in the zest of life:
and out of the inward roaring of the inner red ocean of whale-blood
the long tip reaches strong, intense, like the maelstrom-tip, and
   comes to rest
in the clasp and the soft, wild clutch of a she-whale's
   fathomless body.

And over the bridge of the whale's strong phallus, linking the
   wonder of whales
the burning archangels under the sea keep passing, back and
   forth,
keep passing, archangels of bliss
from him to her, from her to him, great Cherubim
that wait on whales in mid-ocean, suspended in the waves of the
   sea
great heaven of whales in the waters, old hierarchies.

And enormous mother whales lie dreaming suckling their whale-
   tender young
and dreaming with strange whale eyes wide open in the waters of
   the beginning and the end.

And bull-whales gather their women and whale-calves in a ring
when danger threatens, on the surface of the ceaseless flood
and range themselves like great fierce Seraphim facing the threat
encircling their huddled monsters of love.
And all this happens in the sea, in the salt
where God is also love, but without words:
and Aphrodite is the wife of whales
most happy, happy she!

and Venus among the fishes skips and is a she-dolphin
she is the gay, delighted porpoise sporting with love and the sea
she is the female tunny-fish, round and happy among the males
and dense with happy blood, dark rainbow bliss in the sea.

Glenn
Originally uploaded by Paul Pellerito.

I think this is one of my most favorite pictures I’ve ever taken.
Also, I’m pretty much in love with this man. (There, I wrote it down in words, so that makes it… exist now. Dangerous. I love you, Glenn…) So much so I dug up this old song.

What do you want from me?
I stand before you no attempt to leave
I’m too tired to disagree
I stand before you no chance I’ll believe this warning

Oh do you know-
I would have done anything for you
Take this chance I won’t repeat this

I can do anything that’s put beside of you
And I can move any mountains that you make
I’ll lift you up and my back will never break
And I can move this mountain

Come and take the rest of me
I never thought I wouldn’t want you near
This is all I’ll ever be
I understand you
Look around to see this dawning

Oh, does it show-
I wanted to catch you falling
Oh, do you know-
I would have done anything for you

Take this chance I won’t repeat this

I can do anything that’s put beside of you
And I can move any mountains that you make
I’ll lift you up and my back will never break
And I can move this mountain

I can do anything that’s put beside of you
And I can move any mountains that you make

And I can move this mountain…
And I can move this mountain…

Oh do you know-
I would have done anything for you
I can do anything that’s put beside of you
And I can move any mountains that you make
I’ll lift you up and my back will never break
And I can move this mountain

I can do anything that’s put beside of you
And I can move any mountains that you make
I’ll lift you up and my back will never break
And I can move this mountain

Black & Tan

Originally uploaded by Paul Pellerito.

I could go for one of these.

Blast from the past: this photo is from 14 Feb 2006 hard to imagine I’ve been down here in Kalamazoo for over 2 years. Nice to be settled. God damn am I getting old.

The Apparition
Theodore Roethke, 1964

My pillow won’t tell me
       Where he has gone
The soft-footed one
       Who passed by, alone. 


Who took my heart, whole,
       With a tilt of his eye,
And with it, my soul,
       And it like to die. 


I twist, and I turn,
       My breath but a sigh.
Dare I grieve? Dare I mourn?
       He walks by. He walks by.

This was up before the mess. I really like it, especially “wine being poured makes the sound of inconsolable children” and the image of “diamond lancets.” Read it out loud—it’s a real treat.

Be Near Me
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
Translated by Naomi Lazard

Be near me now,
My tormenter, my love, be near me—
At this hour when night comes down,
When, having drunk from the gash of sunset, darkness comes
With the balm of musk in its hands, its diamond lancets,
When it comes with cries of lamentation,
                                             with laughter with songs;
Its blue-gray anklets of pain clinking with every step.
At this hour when hearts, deep in their hiding places,
Have begun to hope once more, when they start their vigil
For hands still enfolded in sleeves;
When wine being poured makes the sound
                                             of inconsolable children
                      who, though you try with all your heart,
                                             cannot be soothed.
When whatever you want to do cannot be done,
When nothing is of any use;
—At this hour when night comes down,
When night comes, dragging its long face,
                                             dressed in mourning,
Be with me,
My tormenter, my love, be near me.