the big easy is really hard

...mostly on my liver. also, on my heart.

i have a good relationship with my liver. we are not the kind of friends where i ask him to come out with me every night, but i know when i need him he will show up and be a trooper. and he is a really good pinch hitter. there for me in the clinch, doing workmanlike service for as long as i need him. which is never very long. i'm a drinker by circumstance. i can go a month without having a beer, tho if i do it's prolly cuz i've become a hermit. but when i'm hanging with my drinking friends (of which i have plenty, all over the country) i'll put away anywhere between a few and many every night for a week or more. and whether my liver feels put upon and/or annoyed by my asking of favors after long silences, i will never know. that guy is cheerfully up to his task precisely because i don't wear him down day-in and week-out. my liver is not like a muscle that needs training to stay in shape. he doesn't ever become a light-weight when i ignore him. (or maybe it's that he never becomes a heavy-weight when we are attached at the hip) either way, there is no falling off, and his consistency is a blessing.
the reason i mention this relationship is because i just spent a week taxing it and i'm trying to decide if i need to apologize for my behavior or chalk it up to circumstance.
because, in case you weren't aware of this, nola is a drinker's paradise. or inferno. depending on how you look at it. there is no law prohibiting the drinking of alcohol in the streets, nor is there a law about bars needing to be closed for a certain portion of the day. so you could conceivably spend all day walking around town (and when i say 'town' i mostly mean the french quarter, cuz this is where the drinkers congregate) with a beer in your hand, stopping in at a 24 hour bar whenever you need another one, and they will put it in a to-go cup and send you on your way. or you could sit down and spend the *entire* night on a bar stool swilling abita amber or whatever your poison is (and i use poison literally btw, cuz if it weren't for our helpful liver friends, we would die from drinking alcohol) and not think to go home until the sunlight comes pouring in the doors. without a 'last call' to alert you to how much time you have spent shooting the shit with your friends and messing around with your liver, you can easily have a moment, at what feels like the middle of your night out, where you look up at the clock and it says 4:53am, and then catch the bartender's eye and order one last beer. and after that, one for the road. easily. it's kinda scary.
this is why the idea of the vampire is set so strongly in the minds of new orleaners (nawlinsians?). it's totally possible to never see the sun. i became one for a few days, drinking till 5:30am, going to bed at dawn, and leaving the house as the sun set to head to a bar for 'dinner' and drinks. one thing that saved me from oblivion was staying at a place 3 miles away from where i was drinking most nights, cuz i was walking to and from, which sobered me up and helped me burn off the large number of empty calories i was ingesting.
thing is, like i said, i'm just a product of circumstance. and i was only in nola for 4.5 days. if i lived down there, i would have to rethink how to function. since i don't, however, i just worry about my friends who do. and this is where the heart trouble comes in.
i have 3 good friends down there. the first has been there for a couple years and seems to do fine, except that the week i was in town he had taken off work for a holiday vacation (read: bender) and i only saw him for a short time one evening cuz he had been drinking all day and it was past midnight and he was falling asleep in his chair. the second seems to be doing okay herself, she moved down there 6ish months ago and has a good group of friends which, not surprisingly, revolves almost exclusively around this one bar in the quarter. however her boyfriend is having a hard time adjusting to the move--drinking hard and messing up at work, which sucks cuz he was one of the most professional bartenders i've ever met.
and then there is my third friend. who is actually the first cuz we've known each other since he was a freshman in HS and he is one of the loves of my life. he is an alcoholic and i have always been worried about him, to different degrees, since we were young. a year and a half ago he went into rehab and spent 7 months sober in LA and seemed to be doing really well for a time. and then he moved to new orleans. of all fucking places. this is so him tho, to make the strongest, most difficult choice possible. he is one of the more brilliant actors i've seen on stage or screen for this exact reason and i know he has to do things like this, but i wish he could learn to make life easier on himself. if i, who am the exact opposite of an alcoholic, have a hard time regulating myself in nola, i can't begin to understand how hard it must be for my friend to function there.
and it's clear to me that he doesn't function particularly well. we had a night of drinking (one of many) at a bar not too far from his house (1.5 mi) that i enjoyed up until 4am because there was karaoke and a pretty bartender, but which was definitely the night i over-imbibed to the point of actual drunkenness. as did my friend. what i didn't realize was that he had also been drinking hard for hours with friend #1 before he met up with me around midnight, so what should have been dee-runk was actually black-out-incoherent-ragdoll-passed-out-in-the-gutter drunk. but of course that didn't become apparent to dee-runk little old me until he had fallen down the 4 concrete steps outside of the bar and smashed his face on the sidewalk. actually, it only hit home (and by 'home' i mean that spot in the very center of you that tends to shatter and hurl shrapnel into both your heart and your gut) when i knelt down where he was laid out on the ground, rolled him over, and couldn't get him to open his eyes no matter how hard i shook him or slapped his cheek or called his name or threatened to kill him. it was one of the hardest moments i've had in years and i hated him the whole time for not having to share it with me. cuz it lasted a long time. it was a 4 hour long ordeal to get him home. it was a process of propping him up and letting him sleep while i dozed, keeping my spidey sense awake since we were just sprawled on the sidewalk of the garden district, then hauling him onto his feet and getting him to walk a few blocks, all the while looking for a cab and wondering if i could physically get him inside one, then allowing him to collapse again and sleep for a while before repeating the process until the sun came up and we were 8 blocks from his house and i was so fed up and had to pee so bad i just held out my hand for his house key and walked away, telling him to stay right there, i'd be back with the car. (i was finally both sober and coherent enough to think about driving him home in the rental car) when i went out looking for him he wasn't where i'd left him and i circled around for a while before giving up and finding him in his bedroom. i crawled into his bed up against the wall while he curled up near the edge and we slept till 4pm. he started work at 5pm. and afterward went out drinking (not with me) till 6am. lather, rinse, repeat.

my heart is a strong little champ. he's really used to getting bruised and broken on a regular basis, but we have an understanding of why that is important and necessary and he is always up for the challenge. his love muscles are very strong and elastic and i exercise him hard every day of my life. but this episode left him wrung out--sweaty, dehydrated, and frankly, exhausted. in fact, he was still kinda worn out and sore the next day. there are types of love exercises that are good for your heart, and i will continue to do those, especially in relation to my friend, but the kind i did that night were not healthy for my heart, me or him. so the next day i treated my heart nice, as i did my liver, drinking water and hanging with friend #2 and her crew instead of him. but the night after that was new years eve and the other thing my heart is besides strong is loyal.
but not blindly loyal. eyes-wide-open-and-willing-to-stare-you-down loyal. cuz my heart is not a pushover. and my friend may be a fucking good guy and worthy of my love, but he's also an alcoholic who needs the kind of love that comes with a mirror and boundaries.
nola may be hard, but it's not impossible. i plan on making sure of that in february. fyi--that's mardi gras season, folks. yup.

for becky, with love and savor.

strawberries are summer sun solidified. picking one off the plant still warm from the morning rays and biting into it is the best way i know to rejoice in the miracle of food from photosynthesis. if i had to name a taste for summer, that would be it, much more so than watermelon or hot dogs or even tomatoes.
growing up, june meant strawberries. even though i lived on the edge of a major metropolis and knew nothing of country life, every june my family would drive out to the boonies (i.e. wisconsin) and pick at least six gallons of strawberries. it would take us all morning, and then we would stop off at a restaurant (the same one every time--the brat stop) for lunch and head back home to sort and process our bounty.
we would turn the picnic table in our backyard into the sorting station, with bowls for over-ripe, 'now' ripe, not-quite-ripe, and 'wait a bit' ripe berries. the the over-ripe ones we ate right there or threw out if need be--sometimes the most perfect looking berries on the plant don't last the car ride home, what with the back of the van turning into a green house in the brat stop parking lot, and making the whole car smell like summer baked in a pie. the 'now' berries we cut into fourths and stirred a 1/4-1/2cup sugar into, then let them sit in the fridge to macerate. those mom would pour over freshly baked shortcakes (from the recipe on the back of the bisquick box) topped with a dollop of home-made whipped cream. there were usually so many 'now' berries (short for 'you gotta eat them now cuz they will be too ripe tomorrow') that we were eating strawberry shortcake for a week after picking. it was my favorite week of the year. (the only other times that got close were the weeks around dad's birthday when farmer's market peaches meant peach pie was in season and the month in the fall after we went apple picking and apple pie, crumble, and -sauce were on the menu nonstop.) the not-quite-ripe berries were the ones we cut up, sugared, and froze for a bit of summer sun in the wintertime. see, the name is misleading--these were really more like 'by the end of the week these will be close to over-ripe' berries. that said, the 'wait a bit' ones were just that. they could wait till we dealt with all the other more ripe berries before we ate or froze them. there really wasn't an unripe or even under-ripe strawberry to be seen in our harvest.
i just remember that every year, what felt like tons of fresh strawberries needed to be consumed over a very short period of time. cuz it's really hard to keep them for more than a week or so. and i know i felt (and still do) that they were never as good baked as they were fresh. apples and stone fruit are better for baking. so eating and freezing were the only options we felt we had. this was partially because once you have eaten a strawberry as perfect and ripe as you get right off the plant, (and not picked early, sprayed with crazy chemicals and shipped across the country) you will never want to go back. that early experience has ruined me for store-bought strawberries forever. and i can't tell you how grateful i am.
nowadays there are things like strawberry, pecan, bleu cheese, and spinach salad, or strawberry lemonade slushies, or strawberry rhubarb pie (my friend kayt's specialty) or mixed berry coulis spooned over vanilla ice cream, or simply a fresh fruit salad.
i've even known friends to make strawberry jam and/or preserves. one of those doesn't take much (or any) pectin...or is that freezer jam...? i'm not as well versed in preserving as i want to, or will be, once i have a kitchen again. but when i was young there was only one thing god put strawberries on earth for. well, two. one, was to be eaten right of the plant (as described above) and two, was strawberry shortcake. in my mind there was no need for anything else. i guess i still believe that.

thankful

my thanksgiving was a string of different moments with lots of people i was glad to be celebrating with, and a couple moments of remembering all those who feel like family that i didnt get to celebrate with. as glad as i am to be with my nuclear family on that day (i used to be sad i was missing the time with them when i didnt live in town), i missed seattle a bunch yesterday. i missed my houses and our vegan potluck feasts, i missed playing celebrity in the living room at sunset house and then going back for seconds when the first plateful of food wore off. i missed my hard femmes dressed to the nines and my bois cooking and baking pies like mad. i missed the dance party in the living room of fraggle rock. i missed jess's leftover oyster stuffing. and it isnt nostalgia for those times past or wishing that houses which have broken up were still extant, its just the community of queerdos out there--my chosen family--that i was wishing i was participating in this year. cuz im so freaking thankful for them its sick.
my dear friend heather was adamant last night about how important it was to share her table with those who felt like family and i was honored to be considered part of that group, but i missed my queer family last night. i realize that those who fall into that definition at this point are spread across the country, so i feel funny trying to lump it into one group, but it sure would be fun to have everyone from every corner around one table someday. people i like cooking and/or eating with include folks in new hampshire, boston, nyc, philly, detroit, ann arbor, chicago, seattle, portand, berkeley, oakland, and nola. but really, all the people in this country that i have broken bread with in the past year and a half have been on my mind as people i am thankful for their existence as well as their love for me and im truly grateful that my homefree life has been such a blessing to be able to spend time with so many people that i wouldnt otherwise have gotten to visit.

crossworld

ever seen the movie wordplay? not surprised if you haven't, (but its really good). its about my mom's favorite person, will shortz, the editor of the new york times crossword puzzle. she has been doing the nyt crossword puzzle since since he was made the editor of it (1993) and it has been a standard part of my family life for years. she used to only do the sunday crossword and work on it all week on her commute to work, but now that she is retired, and my parents get the times daily, she has been doing each day's puzzle every week. actually, thats not even true anymore. since she has been in continual practice, she doesnt even deign to do the monday or tuesday--they are a waste of her time. cuz, unlike anyone who does these puzzles competitively, she likes to sit with the challenging ones that take her most of the day to accomplish. and then she goes on the crossword blog that she reads and checks her answers and learns about other crossword solvers opinions and hangups and such.
which means i get to do the easy ones. and having been taught by a true aficionado, i feel pretty good when i can get the monday done in a half hour. (of course, rex parker, king of the crossworld, gets it done in 2-3 minutes. for reals.)
but i would much rather work on the puzzle with my mom. since we have been in high school at least, she has given up on it for a time (always to come back to later) and thrown it across the table to one or the other of her children and said, 'see if you can get any of it.' and not in a challenging way, but in a i-give-up-and-maybe-a-pair-of-new-eyes-will-see-something-im-missing sort of way. also, sometimes there are pop culture references she doesnt know. (just like how i never know the more erudite old school film greats or 1960's hall-of-famers). i feel like will shortz edits the puzzle to include clues for trivia buffs as well as word play artists, scholars as well as sports fans, people of the younger generation as well as the older. put all those types together and you have my family. so between the 5 of us, we can usually get it done.
we kids learned at an early age that the first rule to being a part of this combined effort was that our usual sloppy handwriting was verboten in 'mom's crossword' (she is still the primary solver, the curator of the event of solving it, bringing in the experts on this or that at her whim), and the second was writing over the number in any of the boxes. man, all of us have caught hell for that at some point in our lives, and we didnt soon forget it. but, once following the rules, each of us has taken a bit of pride in knowing something mom hadnt gotten, or having a corner 'fall' (which means you get enough things filled in that the rest of the crosses are self evident, all of a sudden) when we were the one with pen in hand. (oh yes, it always has to be in pen. using pencil is not done in my family.) ive looked at finished crosswords lying around the house (usually the sunday) and can tell by the handwriting whose aid was enlisted when. except my dad's. he only works on a consulting basis. never have i seen him lift up a pen to enter a word, but he is the go-to guy for most sports and old movies clues. at least half of my knowledge of sports history has happened around the table with a crossword puzzle laid out in front of us. many a dad-answer is accompanied by a story of how he happened to know it.
the fun thing about staying at my parents house when i come thru chicago is that now, as an adult, i get to be a crossword puzzle 'artist in residence'. when mom leaves the puzzle lying around for a few hours before going back to it with fresh eyes, she not only allows me to have looked at it and fill in what i can, she expects and even encourages it. she will say, 'did you look at the puzzle today?' if she is stuck, and sometimes even when shes not. because on wednesdays she takes the puzzle with her to work, she has given me her login info for nytimes.com so i can do it myself online. then, when she gets home, we compare notes, tho she has always gotten more done than me. sometimes she will have already gotten a thursday puzzle done by the time i have a chance to look. then she will apologize for not waiting, but not as if she was really sorry. and i dont expect her to either wait for me to look at it or be sorry that she didnt. i know my place. its still 'mom's crossword' after all.
because i have a 'completionist' penchant in me i have a hard time honoring the last rule of 'mom's crossword', which is that she never looks anything up. unless, of course, she has admitted defeat and just wants to figure out the rest of the empty boxes for fun. however, there is a tacit agreement that if we are both really stuck and i cave and look something up, she wont ask where the answer came from. i dont get to this point until ive been in despair for quite some time, and usually i ask permission. its still 'mom's crossword after all. and i dont wanna be banned from working on it.
i guess i could always do the one in the trib, but, being my mothers child i have a bit of disdain for anything not nyt. puzzle snobbery runs deep in our family. none of us wants to admit to mom that we might do the odd redeye or reader puzzle, tho i know at least a couple of us do (me included). its just to keep our hand in, not for any kind of challenge, you see. ;) its like playing solitaire on the computer with the deck only flipping one card, just so you can have the feeling of accomplishment that comes from winning (im guilty of that too).

kitchen time

Every friday my parents babysit my nephew during my sister-in-law's school day. The other days of the week she has a childcare situation set up, but on fridays, its off to the grandparents house he goes. Which he loves. And which, staying at my parents house right now, I also love. I reap the benefits of seeing my bitty fox cub without the responsibility of having to feed and change him, make sure he takes naps when he gets fussy and keep him happy for 8 hrs straight. I just get to stop in the kitchen and make faces at him and pick him up and squeeze him for a bit and then head to work. Yesterday, I was free until noon and got to have most of the morning with 'lil toots' (pronounced with the short u of 'put') who loves to spend time on the floor of the kitchen playing with tupperware while gramma barb baked multiple cakes and other baked goods for different events this weekend. My mom is taking the role of gramma very seriously. I think alex wasnt more than a day old when she was already in the kitchen baking cookies. I reminded her it would be more than a year before he could eat them and she said, 'yes, but the parents of our little one will need to fortify themselves, wont they? They deserve gramma's cookies too...'
she comes by it honest, tho. My grandma fox was an amazing baker and I dont think there was a moment we spent in her house that the cookie jar was empty. It was always on a low shelf in the kitchen and we checked it the moment we arrived. I mean, after we hugged and kissed grandma, of course. Cookies, 6oz coke bottles and sugary cereal. That was how we were spoiled at grandma fox's house.
The cookies and coke will continue on to the next generation from my mom to our sweet pea (sugary cereal has always been off limits in my parents house and I will throw a fit if they loosen that prohibition for the grandchildren).
The thing about seeing alex play around on the floor of the kitchen (the same one I played on) while mom baked, was how strongly it brought back memories of cooking with my mom when I was little. Bigger than the peanut, but not by too much. I was 'mom's little helpers' in the kitchen early. She had a tiny apron I wore and the way the kitchen was set up at the time there was a little corner of counter with the fridge right up next to it so she could stand facing on side of the corner and work while I sat on the other side with cabinets to my right, the fridge to my left and mom's right hip directly in front of me. It was the perfect position from which to learn how to cook. And just to sit and babble at mom while she worked or ask a thousand questions and have her explain every single thing she was doing and why. It was from this position I learned by osmosis how to make cookies and pies and muffins and bread and watched her make dinner countless times. It was my alone time with mom. Being a middle child made it hard to feel like i was ever not one of a crowd, so the times I got to spend alone with either parent were really precious. And part of me knew that a lot of why I got to have this was that I was the only girl child. Not that the boys didnt take their turns in the little cooking alcove with mom, watching her every move, enjoying the time with her and tasting whatever she was making, but I think my tenure of having mom's cooking moments with me was akin to an apprenticeship more than my brothers'. It was somewhat apparent to me that because I was the female progeny, the family recipes needed to be passed down to me, and I was the one who would make the most use of the knowledge of how to make the perfect pie crust. Which im not denying, I use that recipe and technique often and am very grateful for it. But I feel bad the boys didnt get as much learning around the culinary things in life and in our family as I did. Im the one who knows how to make manicotti shells (and thats only because my mom sat her mother-in-law down and got the recipe out of her years ago so someone would know). There has been a time in my life where I resented this socialization, and then a time when I felt bad that the boys didnt get as much of this instilled in them, and now, I think, I am just really glad someone in the family knows these things. And if the boys wanna know later on when we are the oldest generation hanging around in the living world, they can ask. Or if their spouses or children wanna know, and didnt get the opportunity to learn it directly from gramma barb, (tho I hope to god they do, cuz there is nothing like it, I gotta tell you) at least one of us will know.
Maybe this is stupid, to think this way. To put a lot of emphasis on how the older generation did something. Cuz I dont cook like my mom at all. She says 'if you can read, you can cook,' which I think is mostly true, but I have never followed a recipe exactly in my life and feel the need for substitution and improvisation a lot in what I do. And I dont bake like her either cuz I am always (at least attempting to be) making vegan baked goods which turns a lot the rules she taught me on their heads. So why is it im so hung up on things like pie crust and kentucky colonels (the best candy out there, made at christmas time with a bourbon-soaked pecan a the center of a fondant coated in chocolate) needing to be done just like grandma and gramma? I dunno. Because it brings me back to a time I was so sure of grandmas love that I got so I didnt even have to look in the cookie jar to know it was full as well as a time I was so safe in the corner of the counter being trusted with the family secrets and surrounded by the smells that meant home and food and love, all of which has become the definition of mother to me. And if I can help transfer those feelings of love and trust and safety to my family's next generation, im all for it.

home-free to home-base in a gajillion 'easy' steps

this evening, my younger brother seth and I are going to have a business dinner where we get together and talk seriously, man to semi-man, about buying a house together in chicago. Most likely in the Logan Square neighborhood of which he is already a resident. For some reason, in the past 6 months, the number of houses that have been foreclosed on in that area has gone from no more than 50 to over 300, at least according to the real estate website im wont to frequent these days. Now im not so sure that trying to purchase a house in foreclosure is the best idea out there, but im optimistic that if those properties become bank owned, they will be sold at a price closer to the amount left on the mortgage than to the amount they would have sold for even last year. The plan is to start researching and get a real estate agent who's willing to help look, and find a house near the blue line that is a 2-flat (or a duplex for non-chicagoans) for $100,000 (or less) so the mortgage, when locked into a 4% interest rate for 30 years, is manageable. The thing that will make this a two person job is the property taxes. on a house with so much square footage in the city we are looking at $5000 a year, most likely. However, if we have a house with 2 units (one for each of us) and each unit has 2 bedrooms, and either of us ever wants to have a roommate, then 'rent' for each of us living there would be obscenely cheap. The thing is, tho, finding a house at this price usually means finding one in pretty bad shape. I am more than happy to put in the sweat equity this sort of place requires, tho. im looking for a project to keep me busy and settled in one place for a while. Again, the eternal optimist in me says that working on a place, somewhat slowly as I can figure out how to fix it up and amass the money to do it, would be really fun. Seth of course referenced the movie 'the money pit' with tom hanks which is hilarious if you dont own a house and spirit breaking if you are thinking about buying a fixer-upper.
My motives for buying a house are mostly based on the two parts of my personality that have the hardest time coexisting and allowing me to stay sane: my host and my traveler. My host, who has been laying dormant for a year and a half now while ive been a non-stop guest, is so very ready to have a place of their own to nest in and be a homebody and have people over all of the time, visitors who need a place to stay, friends coming over for dinner, community events like house shows and game nights and potlucks and crafternoons and book clubs and any other events I can think up. My traveler, who is close to having their fill of my current lifestyle, will soon pop up again, tempting me away from the life my host has created, no matter how wonderful, and convincing me there are more places to see and things to explore and ways of living to experience, which I know I wont be able to resist. But i can at least lessen the difficulty when said situation arises by living in a place that isnt too expensive to be able to pay 'rent' and still have money to travel. Or a place that I could rent out my unit of, know that seth is still there to take care of his share, and go away for a time. Like, spend summers in seattle or berkeley or detroit or nyc or wwoofing somewhere across the globe, or spend a year writing in a garret in paris, or london, or edinburgh, or cinqueterra, italy. (none of these are out of my ken, as I have seriously thought about each of them and only wwoofing have I not had first-hand knowledge of) or simply give myself the amount of time and space I need to sit still in a room by myself, listening to the voices in my head and getting them down on paper in a way that will actually lend itself toward publication, which is a kind of going away in itself.
point being, I could have a place that was always my home that was set up specifically so that I wouldnt have to leave it outright in order to go away for a time. Which would mean I would have a place to come back to (aside from my parents house which at 32 is getting a little silly) that is near the fam (especially the little fox cub mentioned in my previous post who has more to do with my choice of location than im ready to deal with) not to mention all the amazing and lovely people ive known for so long who, by virtue of being midwesterners, are a remarkably loyal bunch, and (so I have been told multiple times already) absolutely love the idea of chicago being my chosen and legitimate home-base. Cuz thats who I am: not a person with a home, necessarily (as proved in my home-free nature these days), but one with a home-base. In fact, I might proffer that as a name for our house. Home base, where the mastermind behind homeroom lives, where recording projects of various kinds are happening in the basement and attic, where sometimes the two hermits in the two units never go outside or see the other one unless one of them remembers to make dinner and thinks to share it, and where sometimes the house is full to the brim with people staying over to catch up, eat up, fix up, store up for winter, share stories, and sing songs, all the while creating something beautiful and just maybe getting it down on paper, film, tape, digital file, canvas, or wall, either for just themselves or to share with others. If you want to be part of my home base, for any length of time, lemme know. Im taking applications now. ;) everyone is welcome to visit, stay, and collaborate; help fix, cook, garden, create; bring along their ideas, energies, plans, projects, productions, and progeny. If I will have visited you in my 2 years of travel, you are required to come stay with me so i can repay you in kind, you have an open invitation. if i havent made it out to see you i apologize and desperately want you to come to me so i can make it up to you. in other words: everyone, anywhere, come. If im there, you are welcome. If im not, you are still welcome. get the keys from seth and make yourself at home.
[of course, this is all contingent on our plans tonight coming to fruition in the next 8 months, and there is a lot that can go awry between a planning dinner and closing, but...] *I want this.* And have for a long time. Just didnt know where or how or when. The best solution I could find is here, in the recession with seth, now. I will let you know how its coming and send out invitations when my host has finally gotten his way.

avuncular ecstasy

warning: this blog is going to be somewhat lofty and dramatic in its praise and awe for a certain very small child. to be transparent about my bias i will let you know now that the little one in question happens to be related to me. this might or might not have anything to do with the choice of language used below, and i beg your patience and critical reading skills to separate fact from fiction, exaggeration from accurate assessment, wild claim from hard truth. (in other words, take everything forthcoming with a grain of salt, but i beg you to withhold judgment till you meet the subject in person.)

my nephew alex is the cutest thing on the planet. now i know you want to say something like 'thats what everyone says about their own family member,' but as my older brother nate (alex's father) has said 'its a fact that he is empirically good looking,' and tho we all laugh at his false modesty, not one of us disagrees. i feel like i have a bit of proof, however. i have traveled all around the country and shown every last one of my hosts a picture of said 'lil toots' (as his grandmother calls him) and each time i have watched my host's face melt into a puddle of admiration and the strong desire to pinch cheeks. its inevitable. allison (alex's mother) talks about walking down the street and having passersby stop to admire the peanut.
it helps that he is also the most good-natured human being under 1 year old known to humankind. he *always* has a smile on his face, he makes up excuses to laugh, he practically forces himself into giggle fits, and he just, by his presence, makes your day brighter. its almost obscene. he is really delighted by everything which makes him a delight to be around. my entire nuclear family believes wholeheartedly that he is 1) a miracle, 2) the most beautiful, 3) the most intelligent, and 4) the most talented child to ever arrive on this planet. and we are happy to bore others with proofs of these claims. we feel this way because 1)he is ours, and 2) he is the first of the next generation to grace our tight little club and we are ever slightly more than giddy at the prospect of being a part of his life. the thing that makes all of us a little crazy is that my brothers and i grew up at least 4 hours away from any aunts, uncles or grandparents and never really knew how it works when the extended family is close enough to be a regular part of your life. my dads brothers and their families were way out in LA, if we got out there once every other year we were doing good. my closest grandparent was my moms mom down in southern indiana and she would come stay with us for a couple weeks a couple times a year so we knew and loved her, but not in a 'this is a constant in my life' sort of way. not like the fact that my parents take care of alex during the allison's workday every friday (shes a teacher and is done before nate) and he knows life in their house and falling asleep and waking up to them like its totally normal. which it is to him. its just so far from any of our understandings of growing up i think we are all still a little shocked at how lucky we are to find ourselves in this position. (i include myself theoretically at this point...see below.)

[at right: tofu all over his face]
all that said because i got to hang out with him yesterday. it was the first time in a month id seen him (which tends to be the standard amount of time between visits these days) and he has grown a lot in that time. not in size or shape, but in dexterity and mobility and perception. he is figuring things out at a rate of at least 5 a day, whether its that reaching for something will get it passed to you, or that when you make a growly roaring sound when you want another bite of banana you get fed and tons of smiles, or that you can get from one place to the other by getting from a sitting position to all fours and then back again, but getting up over one leg and sitting down over the other which accomplishes both a different location and orientation in the process (try it, it works). he is brilliant and amazing and so much fun, but my heart almost broke when i walked into my mom and dads kitchen yesterday morning and he looked up at me with a face that was halfway between indifferent and curious, and all over unrecognizing. cuz this means hes paying attention to the people in his life outside of his mom and dad and he knows them. so the logical conclusion of that is: i am not one of the people in his life. weep for me. this is a tragedy i am having a hard time recovering from. cuz what i dont like to tell people is i was 2,120 miles away when he was born, and i didnt meet him till he was 11 days old. my name does not appear in the home-made 'on the day you were born' book that lists the rest of my family as being excited to meet him that day. i am an awful aunt. uncle. ray ray. (thats the compromise right now between myself and allison, alex's name for me will be ray ray. everyone else is gramma barb, grampa wayne, and uncle seth. itll do for now...) whatever my title, im failing in my role.
and ive realized, even if i settle in chicago to be closer to him (which decision i will be more forthcoming with in a later post) i know myself well enough by now that i know i will not always be able to stay here. the travel bug bit hard more than ten years ago and wont let go. and its the opposite for my brothers, they will never leave chicago. ever. even to travel. i had to beg and plead seth just to come visit me in seattle. so i will always be the one thats away, the one that travels for holidays, the one that is coming home to visit. which on some levels might be to my advantage when alex gets older and threatens to run away to live with ray ray in london for the summer before college to escape the tyranny of his parents, but for now is painful only to me, the little one oblivious to his unfamiliarity with this person that looks vaguely like those people most important to him. which feels unfair, cuz there was a time when he was half as old as now, when he used me as a napping substrate and he knew my smell as one that meant safety.
so this has spurred in me the desire to make my presence in his life known. granted, right now it helps that i will be around for his first thanksgiving, his first christmas, his first birthday (in feb), cuz he is old enough to be paying attention and i wanna be there for all of that. but then ill be traveling for 4 months and might only spend 2 days in chicago that whole time, and well, he might start talking during that period. i will most certainly miss his first steps, and his first words (unless those come soon). im coming to terms with the idea that most of my presence in his young life might be thru sending postcards and pictures and videos. on the train home this concept formed itself into a childrens book entitled 'kisses from ray ray' which was about all the varying ways that a little fox cub named kit gets 'kisses' from a bigger fox, named ray van fox, who travels all over the world and sends these kisses thru the mail or the interwebs or thru other family members or what have you.
sometimes its just a postcard with the symbol of an x and an o on top of each other, like this:
which, coincidentally, ray ray has tattooed on a forearm (does this both look and sound familiar? it should). sometimes ray ray draws one on kits arm, too.
im kinda super excited both about the real-life version of this story, and the possibility of making it into an actual book. problem is, i cant draw worth shit. anyone have ideas for how to illustrate this or want to collaborate with me on it? anyone...? bueller...bueller...?

i love my family

so, i just recently got on gmail. (finally, i know.)
and both of my brothers and my sister in law are already on gmail.
so last week i get a note from allison that tells me to watch out for the "vanek attack" which is when three vaneks are online and two of them simultaneously gchat the other one with the phrase "vanek attack!" so (for those of you who dont use gchat) when you are the one attacked, two chat windows pop up and two alert noises hit you at once. and then you have to try to 'fend off' (or converse with) two siblings at once. it hasnt happened to me yet, but i assume a lot of copy/pasting goes on...
so yesterday, seth and i attacked nate, our older brother, and he responded in what i felt i could hear as badly dubbed kung fu movie ninja-speak. it was great, but we were all at work, so it didnt last long.
however, later, nate and seth had this gchat conversation (seth just emailed it to me. oh yeah, they call me rach/rachel. heh.):

1:34 PM Nate: if you an rach are thinking about ninja attacking me
again you better forget it. I've learned 5 new kung fu styles
since our last encounter
[5 minutes pass]
1:39 PM Seth: uh oh
is one of them the one where you jump kick us both at the same time?
like chuck norris?
1:43 PM Nate: more like jet li, where i jump, bring my legs up to hit
you both in the chest and then back flip over in time to roll onto the
floor gracefully like I'm doing the centipede
Seth: ah yes...
in a chat style, of course
Nate: well yeah
the word version of that.
1:48 PM Seth: i must warn rachel
1:53 PM Nate: yes.
send your quickest messenger with the scroll telling of my power
1:56 PM Seth: will do. gotta go

creepy music/creepy art boxes

Subject: cuz its free

Sorry I never got back to you last night. Hope you enjoyed
the flicker bout Kurt. 
What do you think of the new Radiohead? and don't tell me
you haven't heard it!

Brother
**************************
subject: re: cuz its free

> Sorry I never got back to you last night. Hope you
> enjoyed the flicker bout Kurt. 

i did. it was great. he didnt say anything i didnt already
know, but it was beautiful and so great to hear his own
voice saying it. images of aberdeen and olympia and
seattle, people places and things. Didnt see his face till
the last 30 seconds. none of his music. all bands that he
liked was influenced by or got to introduce to the world.
it was really awesome.

> What do you think of the new Radiohead? and don't
> tell me you haven't heard it!

we played it yesterday during our 'crafternoon' which was
really fun, but it was my first listen and it was
background music for interaction. but now that i have it
in my head a bit i will give it a good listen and tell you
what i think...

speaking of that--the idea that it takes a bit for your
brain to register and order new sound so you can under-
stand it--we listened to this most amazing radio program
on the radiolab website that blew my mind 7 times in the
hearing. its about music and the brain. and its fucking
fascinating. for real. listen by yourself or in a room
that you can make noises while listening cuz itll cause
them. it talks about perfect pitch and tonal languages,
it talks about sound as touch and how it works in the
brain, it talks about dissonance and how we assimilate
it, it talks about everything. its amazing. PLEASE
listen to it. if only for the editing genius of it. 

so, you listen to radiolab, ill listen to radiohead and we
will get back to each other.

love
sis
**************************

subject: four limbs simultaneously



this is me playing drums.
      1     2     3     4     1
hi    x  x  x  x  x  x  x oXo x 
snare       x           x
bass  x           x  x        x

(where oXo is hit with hi hat open.)

check out the double hit on the bass drum. 

im very proud of this beat and the fact that i can do
all four limbs at once after just a couple hours practice
today. 

okay. ill stop bugging you with my drum-mania now.

Love
sis

***********************

subject: re: four limbs simultaneously

Rockin!  Sounds great! 
I'm going to be teaching official drum lessons to Terisa
(remember her?) starting on Sunday. 
If I come across any amazing teaching techniques, I'll be
sure to send them your way. Looks like you're on the right
track though!

DRUMMMMMZZ!

*************************

subject: re: four limbs simultaneously

> Rockin!  Sounds great! 

thanks for being enthusiastic. you are the best.

> I'm going to be teaching official drum lessons to
> Terisa (remember her?) starting on Sunday. 

the one with the stellarly beautiful and magical child?
that sounds fun.
you know, you could prolly make a good amount of money
giving drum lessons, if you wanted to...

> If I come across any amazing teaching techniques,
> I'll be sure to send them your way. Looks 
> like you're on the right track though!

yessssssss....
it just feels really good/right to be playing them. when
you get into the rhythm and arent thinking about it and
it flows, it feels good. like when i finally figure out
a sam beam picking pattern and can do it in real time. 





speaking of him, have you heard the new iron and wine?
im totally disappointed. :(  too many effects on the
vocals and too many vocal tracks layered on top of each
other. and the energy feels too light and not substantial
enough. i cant sink my teeth into most of the tracks.
there isnt breathing room. (sort of literally, you know
how he uses his breath as a percussive instrument...)

oh, and i gave Radiohead a good listen or two yesterday,
and i have to say it feels a bit derivative. nothing that
feels super new and interesting. a lot of the same sounds
and energy of kid a and eraser, nothing that blew my socks
off. And thats what they used to do to me. in fact, there
are songs on the bends and ok computer that still make me
want to scream and throw myself around. and i havent found
any of that on the new album, which is kinda sad. 

> DRUMMMMMZZ!

you said it! they make me so excited! (and sore...my
shoulders are gonna be so buff soon...heh)

did i tell you im gonna try to start a band with my
housemates? ill let you know how it turns out...

anyway, have a good day, pal.

love
champ

*************************

subject: re: four limbs simultaneously

Wow. I think you've hit the nail on the head with both
those records (although I haven't really heard the I and W
one too much yet). You should write for pitchfork or
something. Do yourself a favor and go back to track 3,
"Nude".  

It's a song that's been kicking around for almost 10 years
and they finally recorded it. It's one of the most
beautiful I think they've ever written. Up there with
"how to disappear completely" or "no surprises" methinks.
You know, back when they wrote songs with real chord
changes and not just Thom stream of consciousing over
some vamp. 

gotta go. 

keep it up. bang bang!

Seth
*************************

subject: re: four limbs simultaneously

> Wow. I think you've hit the nail on the head with
> both those records (although I haven't really 
> heard the I and W one too much yet). You should
> write for pitchfork or something. Do yourself a 

thats really funny to think about. the not musician of
the family...i guess my music sensibilities have gotten
a lot sharper and i can hear things in a lot
more sophisticated way nowadays. (have you listened to
that radiolab thing yet?)

> favor and go back to track 3, "Nude". It's a song
> that's been kicking around for almost 10 years 
> and they finally recorded it. It' one of the most
> beautiful I think they've ever written. Up there 
> with "how to disappear completely" or "no surprises"
> methinks. You know, back when they 
> wrote songs with real chord changes and not just
> Thom streamn of consciousing over some vamp. 

yeah, that one was the breath of fresh air on the album.
i totally agree. and that next track feels very amnesiac
and has some good energy, too... 
(you sound like a good critic too, we should write joint
articles that are just us talking to each other about
music. or we should record the conversations and
put them up on justin's website...or maybe thats just
for local underground stuff...) and whats up with them
not writing real songs? It kinda drives me crazy. their
songs used to go places. now they just hang out somewhere.
its a cool somewhere, but its not as interesting to be
taken to a place to stand still as it is to be taken on a
journey. ah well.

im going on a 'date' to the SAM today. my first time going
there. cant wait to see the cornell boxes.

later, skater
(pow, crash!)
--raych
*********************

subject: re: four limbs simultaneously

> thats really funny to think about. the not musician of
> the family...

not anymore...

> (have you listened to
> that radiolab thing yet?)

you bet your eardrums! wow! that's good radio. 

> yeah, that one was the breath of fresh air on the
> album. i totally agree. and that next track feels very
> amnesiac and has some good energy, to'o... 
> (you sound like a good critic too, we should write
> joint articles that are just us talking to each other
> about music. or we should record the conversations and
> put them up on  justin's website...or maybe thats just
> for local underground stuff...)

yeah. I had an idea to do that in a car with kent or brian.
it would be really fun but i don't know if anyone would
want to listen to it. but on the other hand, look at
"sound opinions"

> and whats up with them not writing real songs? it
> kinda drives me crazy. their songs used to go places.
> now they just hang out somewhere. its a cool
> somewhere, but its not as interesting to be taken to a
> place to stand still as it is to be taken on a
> journey. ah well.

couldn't agree more. they could never write another song
like paranoid android. they're just not young and
ambitious enough anymore. 

> im going on a 'date' to the SAM today. my first time
> going there. cant wait to see the cornell boxes.

ooooh! a date! huh?
some grad students at the school are showing some of
cornell's films today. I'll let you know what they're like. 

here's to creepy music and creepy art boxes!!

seth
**********************

selph-ish

In the last few years, when we were living a few blocks apart in Chicago, my musician brother and I had this habit of playing guitar and singing together when the two of us hung out. And periodically we’d figure out something cool to share with his crew at “open mic night.” This night was in the warehouse space he and his friends lived in and used as a concert venue for the music scene they were a part of. We would set up a stage in the living room cum concert hall and all our friends would get together and drink and play songs for each other all night. It was just performing for friends, but it was still a performance. He loved hosting those nights, being a ubiquitous presence on the stage, being a part of many of the acts. He’s an extremely nice guy, and can’t say no to anyone. Ever. But especially to anyone who wanted to play a song with him on those nights. And everyone wanted to play with him cuz he could play any instrument well enough to back you up while you tried to be a rockstar for 5 minutes. And maybe you got swept off the stage with the broom cuz you sucked but at least there was the rule that the sweeper had to get up next and rock harder than you. And usually my brother backed him up too, so at least none of us were fooling ourselves into believing we were actually better than anyone else, even the seth, really.

So, sometime last year we’re hanging out, not really thinking we would play anything at the open mic night that Friday, cuz its already Tuesday night, late, and we haven’t thought of anything to cover. But he and I and my roommate are on the couch chatting in the mostly darkness and seth grabs the guitar and starts playing the rhythm part of a slow song we both are in love with that season. I start to hum the melody as he half-sings the harmony, and our voices are really close in timbre and tone and its still and sad and beautiful. “lets do this one Friday night.” And my roommate, who has been listening with her eyes closed says “please, it was so pretty. Everyone will love it.” So, he shows me the chords and how to strum the rhythm and I bumble thru it a bit. “okay, so if you do that part, ill play slide over it in the solo sections and it’ll sound nice.” “show me again? I cant get the rhythm right.” “just listen to the cd, you’ll get it.” And I try, but Wednesday night I’m busy and Thursday I practice but it doesn’t sound right and I call him and he has rehearsal with someone else. And I worry cuz my hand isn’t really strong enough for bar chords and it doesn’t feel natural enough to perform yet. And then it’s Friday and before we set up I have him show me again but I don’t want to tire out my hands right before the performance, so I rig a couple lights while he sets up the sound and aaron puts up chairs and sean gets the keg. And then everything is ready and people are showing up, and we have drinks in our hands and I ask seth when he wants to go and he says “later, I dunno. I have to perform with like, 4 people tonight. Ill let you know.” So I sit back and it’s a full night and there are lots of newbies in the crowd and on stage and not all of them are very good, but we are a generous group when we’ve had a few beers, and since everyone gets up at some point we only sweep people off when they are being self-indulgent or really, almost purposefully bad. So, boy is up on stage quite a bit, doing solos, playing with his band members or friends, backing up a couple of girls who wanna sing covers. And later on there is this moment when his patience gets tried by this girl who is free-styling over his drumming and she never comes to an end, doesn’t think to finish up cuz she’s drunk and not paying attention to how bored her audience is and seth is drunk and annoyed and I can see the frustration climb up his face and I wish I could sweep her, but don’t have enough confidence in my own act to follow it up. And after that I ask him if we can go up soon, and I realize he’s forgotten about our song. And I almost tell him we don’t have to go but he feels bad and says “yeah, let’s go.” And we get up at this late point in the night when the audience feels like talking back and my fingers are a little dumb and he’s kinda sloppy and we do sibling banter as we set up and the audience quiets down cuz they love us as a duet, they think we are really cute and they know we usually do really quiet songs. And we start—I am supposed to start, which is unusual for our performances, and I cant find the strumming pattern, so I use this other one I know and he looks over at me with a question eyebrow and I shrug. And he tries to go with it. And im also supposed to start the melody but I forget the words so we stop and start again.

At this point I realize I have this piece of gum in my mouth but I don’t really have time to spit it out, and swallowing it makes me gag, so instead I just tuck it away in the back of my mouth. And we start over and he kinda shakes his head like things aren’t really coming together musically and my fingers fumble and he tries to cover it and I realize how desperately unprepared I am for this performance. And it makes my hands shake a little bit and I look over at him and hes not really in performance condition, not for a slow, quiet song that takes concentration cuz you can hear every mistake. and im making quite a few. And then I realize id never practiced playing and singing this one before and I cant remember the lyrics and play the right chords simultaneously. So by now we have restarted 3 times and the audience who loves us is getting bored. They wont sweep us, but it’s a bit embarrassing by now. But I tell myself its okay, its late and no one is at the top of their game. So I buck up, and open my mouth to start over one more time knowing ill get it right this time and we will get thru the song somehow and itll be okay even with so many false starts and seth will not feel like he had to carry me thru the performance like he did with so many other people that night. And my jaw lifts, bringing the gum with it and somehow it snaps right into the mic . and it carries thru the room as I start the first note of the song. And he stops playing and turns to me sharply. I look over at him and he says, on mic, “did you just snap your gum?” in the most offended tone and before I can say “yeah, sorry” he has turned to the audience , which is dead silent, and says straight into the mic “did she just snap her gum?” there is ascent coming from the room and he goes on, indignant “I cant believe she just snapped her gum. How unprofessional” and I hear the facetiousness in his voice, but he is still pointedly making fun. not that hes actually upset, but its still all at my expense on stage in front of the whole crew. And yet, im thinking ‘thank god he’s given up trying to flounder thru the song. This is my chance to exit without getting swept or making people suffer thru another performance of a dumb girl trying to be a musician. And there he is, railing about how unprofessional I am and how all he asks for is a little respect—“am I right or am I right?” he asks the audience. And im up out of my seat, swinging my guitar off my shoulder cuz its my turn to act indignant and offended. I say “that’s it. I cant work with him.. I give up.” And everyone reacts strongly to this. They aren’t used to this kind of confrontation. I realize im overcompensating for my embarrassment with mock rage that people are taking more seriously than I meant them to, but its too late to back down cuz tim is up out of his seat trying to diffuse the situation, trying to get us to play another song with him, but ive decided to go with the strong choice ive made and act the part. So I hand tim my guitar and say “you deal with him, I refuse.” And I storm off stage. Seth is now telling tim how he is right to be upset with me and in the back of the room someone calls “siblings and alcohol don’t mix” and I flip him the bird before sitting down. He is still harping on my gum and tim is trying to get a new song started when I realize how much fun seth his having with this scene. And I refuse to let him have all the fun. So I make another strong acting choice to escalate things to high drama—I walk back up to him on stage as he mentions my gum I take it out of my mouth and stick it to the center of his forehead with my thumb. the room makes a groaning noise, a combination of enjoyment and dread and I storm away and sit. And try to not burst out laughing. That whole thing was so fun. I have no anger left, I don’t care that my brother just shot down any pretentions I had of being a serious musician in a room of musicians, cuz im not. And i know it. I am, however, an actor and felt that my performance was stellar. Now seth and a couple friends are in the middle of a very sloppy rendition of something and my roommate is fretting about the state of my relationship with my brother and whether we will be able to reconcile and I am just highly amused. he might not even remember this moment tomorrow and I had a lot of fun getting so upset and blowing up at him and having him yell at me and then be completely done a minute later. That’s why we get along. We are family and work the same way and don’t have to worry. We can call each other out and blow up and boil over and be frustrated and mean, but never really try to hurt each other. And we both know that. And hes just enjoying being mean for once in his life and im enjoying watching him be over the top.

And it gets better. A couple of songs later when its clear to everyone that seth has just had way too much to drink and is being sort of categorically an asshole for once in his super-nice-boy life, I laugh with glee when he refuses to be swept and yells into the mic at the person trying to coax him off stage “MY PARTY!” I have to keep myself from applauding. He has one-upped me as usual—taken the performance to new heights. Or depths, if you prefer. He wins once again. “MY PARTY” he insists in a 4 year-old kind of drunkenness, insistent and convinced of the truth of the statement. “am I right or am I right?” he asks. And we really cant deny him. He is right, tho it was somewhat bad taste to point this out to all those who had tried for a few minutes of fame even if he was necessary in the background to make it happen.

Epilogue:

I left town the next morning for a couple days and then had a lot of work to catch up on so when I saw him for the first time after that night it had been a whole week. We are at Sunday dinner at mom and dad’s and I start right into a conversation with him. I pause, confused by his sheepishness, until he says “I’m sorry about Friday night.” I start, taking a second to get what he’s referring to. “oh, god, don’t worry about it, id almost forgotten.” id already told a friend the whole story to make him laugh and knew then that I had no hard feelings. “you’re not mad?” “no, why would I be. I let it go that night.” “everyone told me you had been really mad. I guess I offended Margaret later and she wouldn’t talk to me most of the week.” “oh, no worries, I’ve just been busy. Besides, I was the one who stuck gum on your forehead.” “really? I don’t remember that.” “damn, that was my favorite part.” He can see I take it all as a big joke and I think he feels a little put out. “I’m sorry if you were made to think I was angry. And I’m sorry I didn’t call you this week to let you know I wasn’t I honestly didn’t think about it.” I feel bad for a minute and then think that’s what he gets for being drunk enough to have to rely on other people’s interpretation of events. “no one can hold a grudge when they know you are never like that. It’s not like you will be an asshole like that again for at least a year.” “yeah. I just don’t know if I will be able to live that display down. Everyone keeps using my phrase back at me.” He sounds a little harassed, and maybe he deserves it. “which one? ‘my party’?” “no. god, I barely remember that. I cant believe I said that.” A chagrined chuckle emerges from him as I grin from ear to ear and tell him: “well, you weren’t wrong, bro. they just hate to admit it. I mean, am I right or am I right?”