“Why I Mix” (12-12-12)

On facebook lately you’ve probably heard me talking about my Best of 2012 Volume 3 mix. Those of you who’ve known me for a while know what it’s all about but for those of you who don’t, I’d like to let you know what they are and why I make these mixes… the whole story.

So what's the deal with these mixtapes? I've been making mixtapes since the late 80's. Back then, I used to listen to the radio and record the songs I liked. As a pre-teen and teen, they weren’t exactly cutting edge mixes but they made me happy. As a poor kid from the inner city, it was like I had the songs I liked without having to go buy them. Sure sometimes the beginnings or endings or both were chopped off, but at the time, it was enough. Then in the 90’s it became recordings from cassettes and dubs of tapes I'd pick up. I remember when the Galleria opened back in the early 90's driving around the parking lots in my friend’s car and rocking out my rap mixtapes. My friend couldn't afford a booming system but he was an electrician's assistant so he figured out a way to rig a huge old house speaker in the back trunk of his car. So we'd drive around the parking lots setting off car alarms and making everybody look. The bass was crazy. Sometimes, depending on the song, your teeth could rattle! The best part for me was that we were using my mixtapes. You'll have to pardon the analogy but he brought out the big gun and I supplied the ammo. We drove back and forth pumping LL, Tribe Called Quest, Eric B & Rakim, Kid n Play, the DOC, Gangstarr, De La, Common Sense, EPMD, Big Daddy Kane, P.E. and whatever else I could find to put in the mix. It was usually the best stuff out at that time.

I grew up on radio and MTV and not always in that order. I listened to what they played because how else were you going to get music back then? We didn’t have our own PCs in the early 90’s. We’d sit on our porches playing WBLK or WKSE (I’m ashamed to admit) and kick it in the neighborhood. Music provided the soundtrack for my life but the worst was when something wonderful happened on or near the porch but an awful song was on the radio at the time. Then I’d associate that great memory with Hangin’ Tough by the New Kids on the Block. Or I’d remember a certain kiss with a certain female to Milli Vanilli’s Girl You Know it’s True. I’m not going to front, I loved those songs back in the day but it’s also a little embarrassing to my ego now in a funny way when I think of it. I guess I wanted more control over these moments. So then at parties, little get-togethers, hanging out on the porch and the like I made mixtapes that offered only the best songs. Sure the songs were my favorites among relatively popular stuff, but there are no cheesy DJs, commercials and you didn’t have to sit through Anita Baker to get to Bobby Brown (no offense Anita). By the mid-90’s my tastes branched out into new areas. I started to enjoy alternative rock and grunge while my previous tastes had evolved. Instead of liking the hip hop on Yo! MTV Raps, I learned that there was a ton of great hip hop that didn’t get airplay on MTV or WBLK for that matter. I learned this through listening to a little college radio station on Sunday nights called WBNY.

When I went to Buffalo State in the fall of 1996 I was eager to get involved with some student organizations. First I tried the college paper, The Record. Fortunately, the staff at The Record were total dicks to my friend and I so we decided to check out the radio station instead. Almost from the moment we walked into WBNY we felt wanted and part of the crew. And what a crew it was! There were people of differing ages, cultures, tastes and more and I absorbed as much as I could. 6 months later my mixtapes became a lot more diverse. Every week I was digging to new depths and discovering new bands, old bands, old genres, new sub-genres. It was awesome. I started making funk mixtapes, trip hop mixtapes, alt-country, British pop, you name it. As my confidence in my taste grew in the late 90’s I was making mixtapes for people other than myself. It takes a lot to go to other “music” people and say; “hey listen to this, it’s really good” and put your reputation on the line but I was beginning to be so bold.

Part of what happens as you dig deeper and deeper into the music that is out there beyond the scope of popular radio and television is you start to wonder how some of the stuff that becomes popular is popular and why some of the amazing stuff you’ve found is not. It probably has something to do with how 47% of Americans voted for Mitt Romney and why Kid Rock has had a great 10 year run. Yes, I’m talking about becoming a bit of a music snob. It was worse when I was active at WBNY where I had great disdain for almost anything popular. As I’ve aged and moved away from my WBNY days (which ended 10 years ago) I’ve softened a bit but you’ll never catch me listening to the radio if I have a choice. I just don’t think most of the songs and any of the stations are very good. Truth is, it's hard to not become a bit bitter or jaded with the record industry when you are voluntarily submerged in the underground. You hear the things that are most popular and they begin to sound the same or at the very least derivative of the first awful song that set the chain in motion. It’s the way the music business has always been. They have to find the next Elvis, the next Beatles, the next Beach Boys, Bowie, Michael Jackson, Van Halen, Madonna, Whitney Houston, Mariah Carey, Jay Z, Rihanna and so on. In the music industry, if 1 is good then 100 is better. It’s why these fads come and go and when they go, they go not because something better has come along, but because the fad was done to death and we just can’t stand it anymore. In more experimental times, like the 60’s and 70’s these fads mostly faded away and we moved on. It wasn’t until the late 70’s and into the 80’s when a fad overstayed it’s welcome, was exploited in every conceivable manner and caused such a major uproar it HAD to end. If you remember, people began to hate disco with a passion. That’s the first one I can think of. There were Anti-disco nights and the Bee Gees went from the biggest stars in the world to persona non grata and had to “disappear” from public view for a while because of it. This is also around the time that radio began to change from the experimental, unpredictable catalyst it was into more of the refined, streamlined crap it is today. People started using terms like “markets”, “demographics” and “radio consultants” and before you knew it we had soft rock stations, hard rock stations, or today’s crappy mixed format stations like Jack or Crap FM. It used to be that a DJ could throw on a record and if they felt like flipping it over and playing the B-side, they could. Some of the great hits of all time were originally B-sides because a DJ flipped it over and found gold. Examples of B-sides: The Beatles- Something, Day Tripper, Revolution, Eleanor Rigby. The Beach Boys- Don’t Worry Baby, Little Deuce Coupe, God Only Knows. The Rolling Stones- Let’s Spend the Night Together, Lady Jane. The Smiths- How Soon is Now. XTC- Dear God. Gloria Gaynor- I Will Survive. I think you get the point.

Nowadays playlists are pretty strict because of testing and research. “They” know what people like. How about turning on people to new and interesting stuff? Radio has failed us but much like other aspects of our society, it wasn’t radio that did it, nor did video kill the radio star, at least not completely. It was money. When people value money over art and cannot find the happy medium between the two what you get is today’s hit music stations. If I’m in someone’s car and they have one of them on I’m astonished by both how bad the music is and how much the songs sound the same. To me it seems nearly all of today’s hits have a similar beat and everyone is singing like a robot these days or through a vocoder of some kind. I think most popular music is unfortunate and lazy. I’m not hatin' on anybody either. I hope all of these “artists” go out and make that money. I don’t blame them for cashing in, I just think they suck. They won’t get any of mine. So yeah, I still have some of the music snob inside of me. I suspect I always will. You simply can’t have heard and seen the things I did and then go back to giggling on request lines. That’s why I make mixtapes. Even though I’m 10 years out of my full time college radio shows I still want to rebel against the system. I still want to turn people on to stuff they may not have heard of. I no longer do it on the air, I do it through the mix.

Something I used to do back in my college radio days was find "the singles". I'd always look for the catchiest songs on the record. It’s that happy medium I was talking about between money and art. Perhaps it’s my background growing up on hit radio but I try to find great songs that in a more musically liberated and awesome society would be hits. Sure I could be impressed with a bombastic 12 minute opus that takes you for a serious ride, but I've always been drawn to the 3 and 4 minute numbers that really cook. Back at WBNY it was our job a lot of times to listen to records and then pick out the 3 or 4 best songs and write a review with recommended tracks so the other DJs would know what tracks to focus on if they didn’t know the band and didn’t want to experiment too much. My mixes are full of “recommended tracks”. Also because I'm not a typical male, you don't get a CD full of 20+ songs by male artists or bands. You get variety even though I keep the format to college radio styled indie rock and pop.

There’s no accounting for taste but what do I look for? When it comes to a song I look for powerful and/or fun and definitely catchy. The catchy part is most important to me. I look for songs with mass appeal ignored by the masses. And when one of "my songs" ends up in a car commercial or breaking through in some way, it's bittersweet. The hypocritical music snob inside of me is saddened that now people who somehow don't deserve to enjoy such a cool song will now pretend to while the sweet music lover inside is happy the band is getting the recognition they deserve and hopes they will become huge like they probably deserve to be. I think deep down, I’m proud that more people got turned onto the song/band. That’s the pretty part of this process with the snob being the ugly part. I think the balance between the two makes for great taste but again, there’s no accounting for taste and I digress.

It’s a never ending and painstaking process to make these Best of the year CDs but so is keeping up with good music. I don’t spend nearly the time I used to listening to everything I can but I’m involved enough to keep putting out these CDs. The Best of 2012 volume 3 will be coming out on Friday. I will be giving them to people for free that night and the days and nights ahead until I run out. Perhaps people will hear the songs and then go out and buy some of the CDs by bands and artists in my mix. Maybe one day someone will hear one of my mixes and decide to make their own. That’s the only way this rebellion keeps going. Viva la resistance!

Lastly, here’s a list of all the mixtapes I’ve made post-WBNY days. I still use my last/current radio name “Crazy Eddie” when I release them so they are usually titled “Crazy Eddie presents”

My mixtapes:

-The Best of 2004    

-The Best of 2005   

-The Best of 2006   

-The Best of 2007

-The Best of 2008   

-The Best of 2009   

-The Best of 2010, Volume 1- released 5/10

-The Best of 2010, Volume 2- released 12/10   

-The Best of 2011, Volume 1- released 6/11   

-The Best of 2011, Volume 2- released 12/11   

-The Best of 2012, Volume 1- released 4/12

-The Best of 2012, Volume 2- released 8/12

-The Best of 2012, Volume 3- release on 12/14/12

-Happy Holidays from Crazy Eddie, now in it’s 3^rd edition

-The Soul of Crazy Eddie (2 CD set)

-Best of Latin Freestyle

-Halloween, now in it’s 2^nd edition

-80’s Movie Mix

-Summersongs

The “Flashback Annuals” series: (a “what-if” series of mixtapes that I might have made in past years if I could go back in time)

-The Best of 1977

-The Best of 1980   

-The Best of 1981   

-The Best of 1982   

-The Best of 1983   

-The Best of 1984   

-The Best of 1985   

-The Best of 1986   

-The Best of 1987   

-The Best of 1988   

-The Best of 1989 

Election day thoughts, amazing theories and why Mitt can't win! (11-6-12)

Mitt Romney. I never thought a guy with a name like "Mitt" and with a son named "Tagg" would ever be president. Not in this day and age. I’ve always had this theory with presidents and names. The theory is the president has to have a very common, everyday sounding name. Now before you get argumentative on me, I do have 2 exceptions to this rule: 1- War heroes need not worry about names which is how a dude named Eisenhower got in and 2- If your name is so unusual it’s downright cool, then you can get in too. This applies to President Barack Obama. Not only is his name so unconventionally cool, he also made history becoming our first black president, so that only adds to the coolness. Coolness often supersedes practicality in the realm of public opinion… don’t believe me? Ask any high schooler, they’ll tell you. Now if you go back, especially into the 20^th century and look at the names of the elected presidents, you’ll see a lot of vanilla sounding names… Clinton, Bush, Reagan, Nixon, Carter, Kennedy, Johnson, etc. If you go all the way back to Herbert Hoover, that might be the last funky name that got in without falling under one of my 2 exceptions. Herbert Hoover is not a common name, although probably more common in those times, and it’s certainly not cool. So Hoover got in and what happened? That’s right! We went into the Great Depression. Lesson learned America. Or was it?

Look at the list of people who tried to win the Presidency with funky names… Michael Dukakis anyone? He was blown out. Sometimes a candidate cannot even win their party’s nomination because of their funky name… 2008 & 2012 GOP challenger Mike Huckabee anyone? No thanks. So with my name theory now entrenched in your thought process how could a guy named Mitt win? With names like those, the Romneys do not sound representative of America. They sound like rich white elitists who do not represent the common person's interests. Perhaps I’m lazily stereotyping him but am I wrong? Of course if you need a more substantial reason he shouldn’t be president I will oblige.

How about all of the lies, misconceptions, half-truths and complete bullshit? Has there ever been a more dishonest political figure? He learned his lesson when he lost the nomination to John McCain in 2008 and portrayed a much more conservative candidate during the Republican primaries in order to get past Rick Perry, Crazy Eyes Bachmann, Huckabee, Santorum and Newt Gingrich (another guy who would never have a shot due to his name). Once nominated, Romney went back towards the center and portrayed himself as more of a moderate. Good thing most people in America no longer possess long term memory. He did what he had to do to get himself to the party but it can’t look good to portray yourself one way and then a few months later go in a different direction. It looks dishonest and spineless. Who is this guy anyway?

As for the issues, he constantly chides Obama for trying to get the economy going again by repeatedly stating that government doesn't create jobs while out of the other side of his mouth is promising to create 12 million as president, which is the amount forecasted for the immediate future anyway based on our current growth, regardless of who is president. I guess that is dishonest on 2 levels. He wants to give tax breaks across the board, including to the rich, even though the super rich are enjoying more wealth than ever, which is staggering considering the difficult financial times this country and most of the world is experiencing now. He also wants to continue this obsession with greed err... trickle down economics which doesn't surprise me as he has engaged in trickle down politics during this campaign. He's literally been pissing all over the truth every chance he gets, sometimes downright defiant in his lies. He has pissed on our collective intelligence wagering that a slight majority of us are so hopelessly lacking long-term memory that we can't remember every lie, every gaffe and most of all that we've forgotten how we've gotten into this mess we're in and who's fault it was. Now I'd like to think Americans are smarter than that but before I smile reassuringly I am reminded that this country elected and re-elected George W. Bush in the not-so-recent past. You can deceive the people and it’s easier to do than you think. That makes me nervous and not so confident of Americans collectively. He wants to increase military spending when no one is asking for it, cut “entitlement” programs at a time when so many need them and let’s not even get into how he wants to serve Big Bird to his family and friends for Thanksgiving.

I could also get into the attacks and stances on women’s rights, marriage equality, immigration, the environment, social programs, medical insurance, infrastructure and so much more but those of you reading this probably already know. The bottom line is I don't want some shady, wishy-washy, two-faced salesman/businessman as president. That’s what he really is. He’s a salesman who is quick to pass blame elsewhere. Blame the product, blame the producers, blame the consumers but hey, he's just the salesman. If he were elected and his policies sent things back to how terribly they were in 2007/2008, he'd just point the finger at Obama for leaving him a terrible mess and he'd blame the poor, the middle class and maybe the victims (the 47%?) for not doing enough to boost the economy. He doesn’t get it and he never will. I used to think he was an evil man who intentionally lied and was duplicitous in spite of the facts but I realize now the world he lives in is not the one you and I live in. He drives with his dog on the top of the car and has an elevator for his cars in his house! Who does that kind of stuff? Mitt Romney, that’s who.

So let’s talk money. He always represents the interests of the rich and the “job creators”. He and most of his party have been saying this since Reagan was president but the simple truth is that the rich are not job creators. Since 1980 wealth in this country has basically doubled. Where did all that money go? The super-rich of course. Wages haven't increased much over that time and what people take home against the cost of living certainly hasn't doubled. It’s barely moved. I thought trickle down economics was supposed to build this country up from the top down? The rich will have so much that they'll share their gains with everyone else by creating jobs and passing along the good fortune. How naive were Americans back then? How naive are they now? All trickle down economics have done is make the mega-rich richer and given them more power and more influence to relax market regulations and lower tax rates commensurate with their greed. It’s widened the gap between the haves and have nots and it has shrunk the middle class which is why we are in this mess. What we have most certainly learned during this time is that the middle class drives the economy. A large, strong and diverse middle class creates significantly more purchasing power and they create higher demand for products and services, which... wait for it... in turn, really creates jobs. When people want more stuff, someone’s got to produce it. People stashing money in offshore banks doesn't create anything but less tax revenue at a time when we desperately need it. So to summarize, sorry but I don't want a salesman and mouthpiece for the uber-rich in the White House. 

I want someone with backbone. I want a good man. I want someone who legitimately cares about others, someone that tries to bring us together, not someone who wants it to be every person for themselves and drive us further apart. I prefer community over survival of the fittest. Obama's not perfect. He's not a perfect candidate but he’s a damn good one and even though people think he's done basically nothing the last 4 years that simply isn't true (see the link at the end of this blog). He's done more than you think and would have done a lot more if the Republican controlled Congress didn't think to sabotage his presidency in some desperate attempt to brainwash people in thinking that everything that has gone wrong is his fault and that he hasn't gotten anything done. Well, you know what? Some people buy it. Hopefully there are still enough people out there who won’t buy what this salesman has been pushing. America doesn’t need a businessman, it needs a president and we already have one, a good one. Now that things are turning around for the better and we aren’t as financially hamstrung by recessions and wars, let’s see what he can really do.

Forward.

Over 200 things Obama has done as President!

“Do you hate America?” (10-1-12)

I knew it was going to be a difficult day when on my walk to work this morning I was almost run over by a bike… from behind… on the sidewalk. I understand why people ride their bikes on the sidewalk on Elmwood Avenue. The street is narrow and distractions are all around. It feels very unsafe to ride on the side of the road. When I ride my bike, I usually ride on the sidewalk too but with one notable difference. I have no illusions. I ride in my lowest gear and move along at a very slow rate of speed. I’m often going as fast as the pedestrians. It doesn’t bother me because when I ride on Elmwood’s sidewalk I expect and respect the many people walking there. If I’m in a hurry, I take Ashland or Richmond or a corresponding route with a little more space in the street. Elmwood can be dangerous. I’ve had friends who have been hit by cars whether they were riding or walking down the strip. While coming down the sidewalk I almost got hit by a lady backing out of Nektar’s parking lot the other night. I literally had to scamper out of the way. I understand why people do it.

   

Today I was simply walking up Elmwood, ear buds in and enjoying both the walk and the day when this bike whooshed past me at a very high rate of speed and he came within 2 inches of clipping me and perhaps causing a great crash. My crime? I was slowly moving from the left to the right side of the sidewalk because I saw a group of 3 people standing and having a conversation on the left hand side about 25 yards ahead. I guess I didn’t signal and this 20-something year old guy was flying down the sidewalk on his little bike and nearly ran into me. Good thing I was sliding over to the right slowly or I might have had this guy’s bike up my ass. After he passed me he looked over his shoulder and yelled something at me. I don’t know what because of my ear buds and the music pumping through them. What nerve though, to think I am at fault when you are riding a bike 10-15 miles per hour ON A BUSY SIDEWALK! That guy really pissed me off. Little did I know getting my dander up would cause me to do something a few hours later that would have me feeling proud of myself. Plus the experience gave me a great idea for a scene/section in my novel so it wasn’t a total fail in hindsight but at the time I became a little testy.

While feeling testy, getting to lunch today was difficult. I take lunch later than most, usually around 2ish, sometimes 2:30 even, especially when I come in later and today I came in a little later. It was a struggle to make it to lunchtime as everyday things began to get on my nerves, more than they usually do. The morning’s commute had definitely had me feeling annoyed and nothing awesome happened to balance the scales. When I am feeling crappy, I am only a nice moment away from being balanced again. I just need something good to tip the scales back. Unfortunately nothing good happened and the final straw arrived when Rush came on the radio. Yesterday while watching the Bills game with the fellas I complained about how the community radio at work is always on 97 Rock and it drives me crazy. It drives me nuts because they play the same crap every single day. We work at a record store! Variety and diversity should be a requirement here! I made a joke yesterday about how they play Rush every day between 1pm and 2pm and when Rush came on at exactly 2pm today, the joke was on me. I had to get out of the building, get some food and relax. Food always picks up my mood and I went somewhere I often go just a block away from the headache at my desk.

There are usually a fair amount of lunch-time people at this little restaurant but when I go after 2pm sometimes I get lucky and the place is nearly empty. It is then I can really relax. However today was not one of those days. The place was pretty full and worse yet it was pretty full with college people. The college people often bother me because of the way a lot of them speak. Basically, the girls give me a headache (and I already had one) and the dudes really piss me off with the homophobia and objectification of women. Whenever I eat, I really like to eat in peace and having a front row seat to an idiotic conversation is not what I call peace. That said, idiotic is relative and the more important part of this is when I am alone, I like to be left alone when I eat. I like to dine in my own little world in the midst of this much larger, more annoying one.

I usually want to get a table far away from everyone so I can be alone with my thoughts and my chicken but today there weren’t many places to sit at all. I had to grab an empty table next to these 2 guys with short hair and posture that was almost too good. After a few minutes I understand why… they are military guys. They’re dressed in civilian clothes so I didn’t quite know at first but after listening to only a minute of conversation I knew what they were. The two soldiers were talking shop, talking about guns, procedures and most of all, talking ignorant. What do I mean? Well in just over 5 minutes of conversation many things are gay, several people are retarded, quite a few of their friends are fags and/or homos and their lady friends are bitches and sluts. Having to listen to this from the moment I sat down made it the least enjoyable meal I’ve had for some time. Now these men were not soldiers to me, they were idiots.

I kept my eyes open for people leaving so I could relocate but no one was moving. I tried to just eat my lunch, tune it out and hope they would leave at some point during my meal since they were there before me but I wasn’t in the mood to listen to the hateful, ignorant ramblings of these two “heroes”. Because I was in the mood I was in, I felt like doing something I won’t always do… speak up. I kept telling myself speak up the next time you hear this. Then it was okay, how about the next time you hear this. The ignorance was coming faster than I could negotiate internally. Finally I decided I had enough. 

Upon the 3^rd time the one guy called someone he knew a fag I turned and barked out; “Do you mind?” First there was surprised silence. But before I could enjoy the more sensitive air he asked; “Did I offend you… are you gay or something?” I thought carefully about my words and replied; “Whether I am gay or not is irrelevant. You shouldn’t talk that way in public. You’re not the only people in this restaurant.” The one guy halfheartedly apologized but the other was defiant. He said to his buddy; “Yeah homo, you shouldn’t talk about fags that way in public.” I rolled my eyes and went back to my meal, now eating as quickly as I could. I made my point. The next confrontation would probably have escalated the affair. I didn’t want to spend the remainder of my lunch fighting two homophobic jarheads, although if I had I probably would have sissy slapped them just to make another point. I was upset but frankly, I have better things to do than be “the enemy”. I really wanted to ask them a few questions. Of course they would have been questions that would have set them off. So I bite my tongue and the chicken instead, settling for feeling proud that I was not what I eat, at least not on this occasion.

After an awkward few moments the two kept on talking, although they were a little less offensive. Despite having the greater numbers I think confronting when they weren't expecting it them made them feel a little less comfortable and maybe for the first time since they arrived they realized there were other people in the room. I wasn’t going to win the war but maybe I won a small battle. Since things settled down, my focus went back to finishing up my food as quickly as possible and getting lost in my mind while having a deep internal conversation about what just happened.

I want to project love as often as I can but moments like this one make it harder. It gets harder because for years I have felt conflicted about people and this presents yet another epic battle between my head and my heart. At my core, in my heart, I absolutely love people. I love all people. I want everyone to prosper, to love, feel joy and be happy. I also want everyone to get along and be respectful of each other. It is a fantasy of mine. My mind on the other hand can really despise some people. This is because my mind is fully aware of how many ignorant, hateful, terrible assholes there are out there and my mind resents the hell out of them. My heart represents warm, sunny fantasies and my mind represents cold, dark realities. Try as I might I can’t let go of any of it. I know too much. I feel too much. I understand, empathize and hope. This means that I know full well we’ll never live in the world my heart desperately wishes for because people can’t help but be terrible but I will never stop wishing for it because the day I do, is the day those awful people have beaten me. I’m far too stubborn to stop hoping. So I continue defiant, hopeful and aware whether it makes sense or not.   

Then suddenly, the two soldiers got up and left without a word or a glance towards me. I preferred it that way. There was nothing else to say. We don’t agree about life, about people and they won’t change my mind and as it stands today I don’t think I will change theirs either. I accept this. Short of them offering a real apology or having a genuine epiphany and thanking me for helping them, I don't even want to talk to them ever again. They walk out the door and my heart hopes they have a real conversation about what happened while my head thinks they are probably talking about what a fag I am in the parking lot. Regardless, I finished my food with a smile on my face and with my conscience clear... not upset with myself for not saying anything like I’ve done many times before in the face of ignorance.

After a few minutes of the sweetest tasting chicken I’ve had in some time it was time for me to head out that same door into the same world those two men just re-entered. I put on my sunglasses and I noticed an older guy looking at me. He was certainly close enough to overhear everything that transpired between the men and I.  As I rose from the table he asked with a snarl; “What, do you hate America or something?” Well, that caught me by surprise. After a second, I knew what he meant. He didn’t like that I would talk that way to American soldiers. I guess to him we are supposed to worship them and they can do no wrong. If I could paraphrase a famous scene in American cinema, perhaps he thought they had neither the time nor the inclination to explain themselves to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom they provide and then questions the manner in which they provide it. Perhaps the old man would rather I just say thank you and went on my way. In a way the old guy pissed me off more than the soldiers did. Perhaps I should have asked him the same question.

“Do you hate America?”

I really shouldn’t have dignified his question with an answer but as I was getting my garbage together I said; “I love America, but just because I respect and admire a flag or a uniform doesn’t mean I have to respect who’s inside of it.” Pardon the pun but over the years I have really learned to not look at all soldiers uniformly. The older guy scoffed at my reply and I walked out of the restaurant while he mumbled something under his breath. I walked back to work without further incident but my mind is now racing. I keep hearing that question; do I hate America? The nerve! I think anyone with half a brain would know that my actions today, while relatively minor, would surely convince you that I love America. Unfortunately there are plenty of people running around with less than half a brain. Unfortunately, some of them wear uniforms. Unfortunately, some of them will cross our paths daily and most unfortunate of all, many of them are registered voters. I love everyone until you give me a reason not to. The problem is too many people give me reasons. So do I hate America? I can honestly say I do not but I would be lying if I told you I didn’t dislike some Americans.  

Nice Guys Finish Last (or are called out) (9-25-12)

I walked into work today on a very tender and sore ankle. When I moved to my current place (is it right to still call it my new place after a month?) I was really excited about a 30 minute walk to work and a 30 minute walk home. With 60 minutes of walking 5 or 6 days a week, I feel like if I do nothing else physically the rest of the day, I’ve done enough. There’s no battle with laziness after work, no pep talks needed, no late night marches around the neighborhood. If I simply go to work, I’m good. But when there is damage to my legs, as you can imagine, the walk is far less enjoyable. My ankle really started to feel sore last night as I left the bar and the soreness remained this morning. It’s not a significant limp but I guess you can say I’m walking gingerly on it. 

Now with that in mind, let me get to the point. You’ve probably heard the expression “nice guys finish last”…so have I. And today’s walk into work has me feeling like a very nice guy. You see, I did something honorable and as it turned out I sacrificed myself in order to help someone else. If I hadn’t done what I did, I probably wouldn’t be hurt today but someone else very well could have been (and probably worse) and although I would have been thought of as an ass by some, the rules would have been on my side, technically I would have been considered a little careless but not completely at fault. It would have been unfortunate but perhaps our kickball team could have had a different outcome instead of suffering a tightly contested playoff loss and the end of our 2012 season. There were 3 components to this event and I was the only one who did the right thing and for that I am the only one left hurting… doesn’t seem right.

I’ve seen it plenty of times over the years. You have too. We see jerks doing well while nice people get stepped on. It’s the basis of our country’s economy and a paramount reason we are in the dilemma we are as a nation. People make sacrifices or take the heat, the pain or the blame for others all the time, often without thanks or reward. They do this simply because it’s the right thing to do. It’s because they are honorable people. Then there are those who do not take other people’s feelings or well-being into account when it comes to their goals or the 3 steps right in front of them. So what happened yesterday?

It happened in the 5^th inning of our kickball game last night. I was running from first base to third base on an infield single by one of my teammates. As I rounded second I could see the infielders were having a great deal of difficulty handling the ball near first base so I raced for third. Now with my speed and the difficulty in throwing the ball across the infield on such a windy day I thought I was going to go into 3^rd base standing up and without any problem… well, except for one problem, the girl playing 3^rd base was standing right in front of the base, right in the base line. That means, to reach 3^rd base I either had to go completely around her or through her.

As I rounded 2^nd and sprinted towards 3^rd my head didn’t even turn around to see what was waiting for me at 3^rd base until I was literally a few steps away. Those of you who have seen me run know that I run very fast for a guy my size and oh yeah that reminds me, I’m a very large dude. When I am sprinting at my fastest rate of speed I simply cannot stop on a dime. I need at least a few steps to come to a halt. The problem was I turned my head and I maybe had 3 steps and a fraction of a second to react before plowing full steam into this girl who was standing where she shouldn’t have been. I doubt she knew what was going on gamewise because if she did she wouldn’t be standing in the way of someone my size running full speed right at her plus it wasn’t even a force play situation so there really wasn’t any point in playing the base and standing near it anyway. I would have to be tagged or struck with the ball.  

So I take a look and my first thought is to try to slide head first into 3^rd, thinking that my long arms could reach the bag in spite of where she was standing. But something inside of me decided that if I tried that I might have slammed my head right into her knees, taking her legs out from underneath her and subjecting her to serious potential damage to her leg and even me to a possible concussion. So I hastily tried to jump into a foot first slide where I sent my left foot towards the far left side of the base and hopefully not taking her out. I do think there was no chance I wasn’t going to bump into her a little but I thought brushing along side her was better than running her completely over or barreling into her legs.

Complicating matters was that earlier in the game one of our male players had a similar play and ran right into the catcher on a play at home. The female catcher was tracking an errant throw and came up the base line to try to get it and jumped right into the runner’s path as he was streaking towards the plate and wham! She went down pretty good but that would have been nothing compared to what I could have done to the girl at third.

So I tried to adjust and slide slightly around her but in that split second I didn’t take one thing into account… 3^rd base was uphill! Yep, the entire 3^rd base line of our makeshift kickball field rose several feet over a very short amount of space so chasing foul balls off of 3^rd base or off of the left field line was very difficult because you were seriously facing an uphill battle! With no moisture on the ground to aid me, my slide ended before it began, with my front foot hitting the ground first and then sticking in there like someone jamming a flag into the ground and my full momentum shot right up on my leg as I tried to resist flying forward into the female. It probably looked like I was trying to pole vault except my left leg was the pole! After my foot got stuck in the ground and my body came flying forward towards it, I then somehow propelled myself clear of the woman and went flying off to the side. I laid face down on the ground and I could feel the ball hit me on the back of one of my legs. I was out. The inning and our rally were over and I felt some pain in my knee.

Trying to be careful not to spring up too quickly I continued to lay there, face down, while I performed a systems check. I tend to do this after every crash and/or fall. I have to check and make sure everything is still functional and also to make certain there are no serious issues I wasn’t yet aware of. My knee hurt… so did my ankle but it didn’t feel like any significant damage. I heard people from the other team approaching and asking if I was alright. I rolled over and got up and assured everyone I was okay as I hobbled over to the sideline. As I returned to my position at third base the next inning I looked at the tremendous divot I left behind on the field. It looked like a bowling ball was dropped there from considerable height! I whacked at it with my right foot and fixed it as best as I could within the context of the game. I had the owie but I was able to finish the game though it hurt sometimes... I’ve fought through much tougher dings and injuries in the past. The thing I kept thinking after the game and now today is that it didn’t have to happen. I shouldn’t have had to nearly break or tear something because people don’t know what they are doing. It’s both the blessing and curse of adult coed kickball.

Adult coed kickball is fun because, well kickball is always fun whether you are 8 or 38. It can get a little serious but it never feels like my football or hockey leagues do, or how my soccer, softball and other sports leagues felt. The intensity and competitiveness is reduced a few notches in kickball and its good and bad. I like the change of pace and the child-like joy of kickball. It’s nice to play a team sport where generally everyone is chill and the weight of the world doesn’t rest on every play. On the other hand because it is more laid back and people aren’t as serious many people don’t know basic rules, or understand the etiquette and safety norms. In softball, usually before a game, the umpire would warn the infielders not to stand on the bases or in the base lines during the game and that if they did, he would award the base to the runners, meaning that the runner would be called safe due to interference by the infielder.

You know how I talked about 3 components earlier? Well the 3 components are me, the girl playing 3^rd on the play and the umpire. I’m legally advancing to the next base and running down the baseline. The girl is in an unsafe and unethical position. Does she know this? I doubt it but the facts are the facts. Now what should have happened is the umpire would have declared interference on the girl for illegally impeding my path to the base and I should have been safe despite what happened. Perhaps if I didn’t get hurt on the play I would jumped up and demanded justice but my mind was more on my well being. The umpire has got to look out for player safety there and not just hers, but mine too. I almost messed myself up really good trying to avoid an obstacle that should not have been there. In the grand scheme of things I could have just run her over and then acted apologetic while standing safely on third base and played dumb. I could have said; “Oh my goodness, she just jumped in my way and I couldn’t stop… I hope you’re okay!” That wouldn’t have been unreasonable although the other team still would have been pissed I ran her over and possibly knocked her into next week, especially after one collision earlier. But as a nice guy I’m not trying to do that to someone. Even in a playoff game it’s not worth it. So I did the honorable thing and took a spill in order to keep her from harm. And what do I get for my trouble? The umpire is oblivious, the girl doesn’t even say thank you for not obliterating her and I just cost my team a chance to continue the inning in a close playoff game… basically in the end, bad play Edwin.

This is the 2^nd time this has happened this season and in both instances I was struck with the ball and called out because I wasn’t ruthless enough to run over a female player from the other team and chose to make an evasive maneuver to avoid contact and blow my shot of being safe at the base. I made 2 outs but both times if people knew how to play the game and/or if the umpires knew how to call them, it would have been 2 good plays and I would have been easily safe both times. I really wonder sometimes if I am too nice. All I seem to be getting for these acts of honor is my own self-satisfaction for making the right choice. Meanwhile my team is hurt by the outcome, no one appreciates it and the umpires don’t have my back. Maybe I AM too nice. Perhaps there’s something to being a jerk sometimes. Maybe nice guys do finish last. They did yesterday. I think I should acquire a “jerk button”. I could flip it on and be an ass when needed. Now that I think of it, what has being nice ever done for me? I’ve been single FOREVER, I’m not cold and mean enough to advance further in many areas of my life. I back down far too much with my easy going nature and let people walk all over me sometimes to avoid confrontations, even when I am right or justified. You know, I think my kindness is holding me back! Perhaps I should get a professional opinion. I will look to some of the great leaders in human time for inspiration…

Football coaching legend Vince Lombardi: “Winning isn’t everything, it’s the only thing.”

Comedian Lewis Black: “The good die young but pricks live forever”

Sensei John Kreese: “Strike hard. Strike fast… no mercy”

Hmm… looks like there may be something to being a jerk after all. Perhaps prosperity is only an immoral action away. Perhaps this was a wake up call. That does it! The kind, sweet, thoughtful Ed you know is gone. Now I am the mean, nasty, selfish, cantankerous Ed. The world will be mine! Suck it! Muhahahahaha!

BUT…

Always right at the moment when I want to shed my morality and embrace douchehood to receive more shallow satisfaction and rewards in life I remember the great Michael J Fox. His teachings have often helped me through the toughest times in my life. Think about it. No really, think about it. Even in the most challenging of roles he always did the right thing. I remember his television show; Family Ties. His character Alex P. Keaton was a Reagan and Nixon worshipping, everyone fend for themselves, neo-conservative but when the moment came, he always did the right thing instead of the “right” thing. Even the most unfavorable of characters can’t keep this man down! This is because Michael J. Fox is wise. He’s both a time traveler and a groovy werewolf. Who else can say that? Now take one of his lesser known films; The Secret of My Success. Michael J. Fox went from working in the mailroom to becoming the executive of an important company in a manner of weeks and how did he do it? By being charming and nice that’s how! Sure he lied and pretended he was something he was not but in the end the goodness came through and everyone could see he did what he did to serve the greater good. That’s right, the greater good. So when I think of abandoning my morals, my honor and my kindness to better serve all of my needs I think of that man and I salute him. Damn you Michael J. Fox. I guess I will continue to be a good guy… for now.

The Sound (9-20-12)

It’s a sound I’ve heard before… an ungodly sound that I wish I’d never have to hear again. One that I wish no one would ever have to hear again. It’s the sound of something moving at a high rate of speed crashing into something else. One second after I heard it I jumped up from my chair and said “oh no”. I kept repeating it as I walked quickly to the open side door. A few of my co-workers seemed to be wondering about the sound as well. I warned them that I knew that sound and that we were about to see something terrible. I must have said "oh no" nearly a dozen times on the way from my desk to the parking lot and it was there that my worst fears were realized.

I saw most of a motorcycle. I saw the body of it with both wheels still attached but missing several other parts, many of which were visible all over the street, some in many pieces. What I couldn’t see was the rider. We walked about 20 feet to the corner and took a look around it and saw what we were both hoping to and not hoping to find. There was a gray car with some serious damage all over its’ driver side but a more difficult sight than that to bear was that of the motorcyclist, face down on the street against the curb in a heap. There were already a few women near the man trying to communicate with him, one lady was frantic. From the sounds of it, she saw the accident occur as she was traveling down Main Street as well. She yelled out “don’t touch him” several times as onlookers leaned down to check on the man. He was twitching and moving most of his limbs a little bit and despite the obvious distress he was in, I considered this a good sign.

I never ventured in too close but I took a look back to take in the scene and try to determine what had happened. People were saying different things, probably guessing but the facts were indisputable. His bike was laying, mostly in pieces, on Lafayette Ave, he was laying face down about 30 feet away from it. One of his sneakers was where I thought the point of impact was, again about 30 feet away from the man and his other shoe, as we would find out later was about 40 feet down Lafayette in a different direction entirely.

My thoughts would go back and forth between trying to figure out how and why this happened and concern for this man who seemed to be in so much pain. Some people at the scene encouraged us all to pray while a few still tried to communicate with the fallen motorcyclist. One of our customers in the back room at the time of the crash often comes in wearing his scrubs so we knew he was in the least a nurse, so we asked him to get in there and he did. The wait for the ambulance was on… every minute seemed like ten. Nobody was saying it but people were generally worried this poor man could die right here on the street. People looking for positive signs had to look hard as there weren’t many but the fact that the man kept trying to move and the fact that there was no visible bleeding made some of us hopeful. He had to be told repeatedly not to move but as someone who has been in that situation I think it wasn’t unreasonable to assume he was in some level of shock.   

The driver of the car that hit him drove his badly dented vehicle into the Canisius parking lot a few feet away and then promptly disappeared. “That bastard!” someone yelled. Someone said they saw him walk casually away from the scene. People don’t leave the scenes of crimes or accidents unless they have something to hide. Was he unlicensed? Uninsured? Did he have something illegal in his possession? Was he intoxicated? A man’s life was in the balance due at least in part to this guy’s actions and he just leaves?

The ambulance arrives first a little more than 5 minutes after the call was made. A fire truck arrives shortly after. Then there were about 8 paramedics and firemen tending to the injured man. The crowd around the scene grew and you can hear many of the new people asking about what happened while those of us who’ve been here since that dreadful sound sigh and take deep breaths. The responders were rightfully being very careful with the man and it was several minutes before they felt good enough to simply turn him over on his back. When they took off his helmet and rolled him over, he let out the most awful scream. They moved him very gently, very slowly but it was still incredibly painful. I thought about going back inside. All of this brought back too many memories. From the sound of the impact, to the sight of the paramedics, the questions, the concerned onlookers. It reminded me of the time I was the one laying on the street wondering if I’d ever be the same again while still trying to process what it was that had just happened. My heart sank for this man. Some of the people who were really close were telling the rest of the crowd about things they saw, things they overheard.

Without being too graphic, it was pretty obvious that he had a broken arm and a broken leg. He had the kind of scrapes on one side that won’t heal in a week. Thankfully the man had that large helmet on as the whole side of it was scraped up and with how far he must have either been propelled, skid or some combination of both down the street, it probably saved him from instant death. There had to be internal injuries as well but as long as they weren’t performing life-saving CPR on him, I felt a glimmer of hope.

It took the paramedics and firemen nearly 15 minutes to get him from face down in the street to inside the ambulance and on the way to a medical facility. They were meticulous and careful. There was no way to know the extent of any internal injuries. I went back and forth to my desk and then back out to the crowd. It was hard to concentrate on work. Suddenly the driver of the car reappeared. He walked back into the crowd and immediately began talking to the police officers saying that the motorcyclist was swerving or something like that. We found out the motorcycle was zooming up Main and this guy in the car tried to make a right onto Main where he hit him. That’s why the driver’s side was the part of the car dented. I didn’t hear him explain why he felt compelled to leave the scene for 15-20 minutes and then return. Perhaps he had to hide something. Or maybe he was in shock too? He seemed too cool and relaxed in the circumstances to be in shock so my gut was telling me he might have felt the need to dispose of something in the car that he didn’t want anyone to find.

After the ambulance left and the police began taping off the scene for photography we all went back inside, discussing what we saw, what we heard and what we felt. My one co-worker said, “Wow Ed, when you heard that crash, you jumped out of your chair.” Yes, that sound has that kind of impact on me. Some people at work didn’t even flinch when it happened but I knew something terrible occurred. I’m not proud to know because it means that you’ve had to go through something similar before. It’s an initiation into a club I don’t want to be a member of. Unfortunately I am and unfortunately now that fallen rider is too.

Between my own brushes with death, people close to me dying and now seeing this with my own eyes, I know how precious life is. I know that we should enjoy as much as we can while we can. Its a few hours later and I’ve gone back to work now although my mind is elsewhere. My thoughts are with that man, who I’ve never met but since this crash happened literally 50 yards from my desk, he may as well be a friend now because I will wonder about his condition. I will go to sleep tonight thinking of him and while I go on hoping this man will be alright I will also hope that I never have to hear that sound ever again. 

The Journey (9-6-12)

Walking to work is a lot more exciting lately. When I lived at my old place it was basically a straight line walk. If I deviated from that, it made no sense. Any other route added close to 10 minutes to a 15 minute walk and was completely out of the way so despite the redundancy I kept to the routine. Love can defy logic but needlessly taking the long way around in a less than desirable or unattractive neighborhood… not so much. I’ve always liked and quite frankly have always needed routines, but I also like to find variety when possible, even in the midst of them. The compromise of direction and freedom keeps me at my most efficient and most happy because too much of any one causes a disruption in my balance. If I have a loose routine or none at all, I’m directionless, unmotivated and stagnant, yet very happy about having all that freedom but if I have a very strict routine, not open to any interpretation or tweaking, I can be very effective in the short term but also greatly annoyed without any flexibility. So unlike the politicians in Washington, I find the middle ground and a successful balance of discipline and happiness. Know thyself.

Living at my old place and having to go the same way to work with little room to explore or spread my wings made the walk tedious. I’d try to let my mind wander when I made the trip so that I wouldn’t fixate on taking the same steps and passing the same houses day after day, week after week. For a while, getting lost in my mind helped to quell the restlessness. I’d also try to mix it up by alternating which side of the street I’d walk on, crossing at every other corner or anything I could to make the walk more interesting. It reached a point where I could hardly take it but then thankfully I moved farther away from my job and in a completely different direction.

I know that sounds like a weird thing to say, that I’m happy I’ve moved farther away but coming to work from my new place is like stepping out into a whole new world. I have to come uptown from near Allentown up to the Canisius area on Main. There are so many routes I can take! First I have to choose the main stretch… do I want the activity of Elmwood, the serenity of Linwood or the compromise of Delaware? Perhaps I’ll get greedy and seek out a blend of any 2 or 3. Then I have to figure out where to cut across. Sometimes I walk to the Co-op and cut across Lancaster, other times I use Auburn, West Ferry, West Utica, the old Gates hospital and so on... so many choices! Each day it seems I go a slightly different way and whether it takes me 32 or 34 minutes to walk to or from work is no matter. Nothing seems terribly out of the way and all of it makes sense. It’s a new routine, but a far larger and more exciting one chalk full of possibilities within!

As I was walking in this morning I somehow spent equal amounts of time on Elmwood, Delaware and Linwood before I had to make my turn at Lafayette, the street my employer is on. I’m not sure why I split the trip up the way I did. I had music going in my ears and my legs were pumping quickly. I was there, in the moment but I was also deep inside my mind both in the music and in thought. It seemed like I was going faster with each block. Beads of sweat were falling alongside both temples and down the back of my neck but my mind was moving faster than my legs and as I was coming around the corner from West Ferry to Linwood Avenue a thought crossed my mind… right now, this walk, this moment… this is a metaphor for life!

You see, in life we all are trying to get somewhere. Sometimes we reach our destinations, sometimes we don’t. Other times our destination changes while we are on the way there, like a text coming through telling us the party has been moved to a different location while we are en route causing us to alter our course. Ideally we are all going somewhere but we all have our own ways to do it. Think planes, trains, automobiles, bicycles and feet. Some prefer the straight line approach, all business and no distractions… I want the quickest way there! A few enjoy the distractions and think that getting there, whenever that is, is just as important because getting there WAS the objective… hey, at least I got there! There might even be some who are so enamored with the trip and the scenery that they forget where they are going, or care little about the destination and more about the journey. Which is the best way? You might have an opinion one way or the other but what’s right for you, isn’t necessarily right for the next person. My point is there is no RIGHT way to get there. Do what’s best for you; my only caveat is that you must keep moving. I think the worst thing you can do is nothing. I know this because I’ve done it. I still do it in some respects. Keep moving. Maybe you’ll get there or maybe you won’t get to where you originally planned but instead find someplace new and quite nice in spite of yourself. Everyone is different. People are driven by different motivators. Plus some people are late bloomers, some take forever to decide while others change careers when they are already well along into their previous one. It happens all the time. There’s no wrong way to eat a Reese’s.

So I think no one way is right and if you think yours is and it’s a model others should follow I say stop trying to see people how you want them to be and instead try seeing them how they are. When someone is on the journey to a destination, no matter what speed, no matter what road they decide to take, as long as they are moving, it’s all beautiful. Support them and if they fall down, help them pick themselves back up, tell em’ what you learned on your journeys and share your experiences and opinions but keep in mind, we can’t walk in other people’s shoes but walking alongside them is a lot better than jumping onto their backs. Enjoy each journey whether they are big or small and you shall see the wonderment of your steps.

Anyway, these are the things I think deeply about when you see me walking down the street and you try to say hi from your car while waiting at a light and I don’t respond and it doesn’t register that someone might have been trying to talk to me until it’s too late and I see you driving off and think oh, that’s who and what that sound was… oops! My apologies.

And shortly will come the journey home… which way shall I take tonight?!?

“Focus on the journey, not the destination. Joy is found not in finishing an activity but in doing it.”

Damn, you got ass! (8-16-12)

I know no man is an island but tonight in a sea of jam packed music fans numbering well into the thousands, I felt like one. You see, I just returned from the Thursday at the Harbor concert. I didn’t make it to the end. I went in with the best of intentions but like many other times my emotions got the better of me and I bailed out.

I was excited at the idea of seeing Salt n Pepa tonight. I had been planning on it all week. In my mind I probably had an image of how I wanted the evening to go. I was going to be smiling and having a great time with a group of friends reliving the soundtrack to part of my youth. That’s not the image that developed though. Unfortunately, tonight I spent nearly 90 uncomfortable minutes in the tightest possible space in the middle of thousands of people and I was alone. There were some good moments and some funny ones but the end result was anytime something great happened, there was no one to share it with. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again and again and again… happiness is best when shared.

When I approached the harbor I saw a crowd the likes of which I had never seen there. It was massive! Usually when you come over the little walking bridge and enter the concert area there are plenty of open pockets where you can seek refuge if you want a little air or just need to get away from the constant bumping and other contact. I generally like a foot of space between me and all other people at shows. This is why I almost never go all the way up to the front. When you are up there, there’s no way to avoid it. I know this and that’s why I’m usually in the back somewhere. With my height and my sharp vision I can see what’s going on from a long way and usually have the buffer zone I seek which helps me to be comfortable in a large crowd, which is one of the places where I often feel the least comfortable. It’s no secret I love intimacy. I like one on ones, small groups or at least where people can have some space of their own. There was none of that here tonight as the harbor was crammed with at least 15,000 people! When I was able to move a foot away from the people closest to me my relief was short lived as the traffic flow would see that one foot of space and before I knew it, 80 people were in line to cut right past me and my newly found space. So did I want to be a turnstile or did I want to keep breathing on people’s heads?

I was a long way from the stage, off to the side both to try to find that elusive comfort zone and also so I could keep an eye on who was coming in or walking around. I was hoping to find someone I knew. A conversation would help take my mind off the burden. I looked all the way back to the water for a pocket to chill in. There wasn’t one. When the first artist ended I was getting really antsy waiting for the 2^nd one. Speaking of 2^nd, the 2^nd hand smoke was absolutely brutal. In some cases it was so bad and so close I felt like I was almost taking drags right off people’s cigarettes. There was a ton of people smoking there. I would shift 4 or 5 steps to my left or right and I’d walk right into another person’s exhaust pipe. I really hate that smell.

This isn’t going to be all whining and gloom. It wasn’t all bad. The DJ who came on 2^nd, DJ Cutler is 2^nd to none and is definitely one of my favorite DJs. He played a lot of hip hop classics, many from the same time period as Salt n Pepa’s heyday. Occasionally I would get lost in a verse and forget my plight. Then some local breakdancers came out and got busy. It was 2 b-girls and one b-boy, all of whom I’ve seen many times and one who I like very much. The only person I know, who I knew would be there was my friend Stacy. However I also knew, she was going to be dancing on stage and wasn’t really an option to hang out with way back in the crowd where I was. That was unfortunate but I do admit when she was up there dancing and DJ Cutler was dropping it that was probably when I had the best time of my visit tonight. When that b-girl is doing her thing, I can’t be anything but happy. So I was for a little while. Unfortunately she couldn’t dance for the whole next hour until Salt n Pepa were ready to go! Regardless, I was so happy for her. I know how hard she works at her craft, so that must have been an awesome moment for her.

A funny moment was right after the breakdancers were finished and a couple of middle aged ladies were trying to squeeze through and pass behind me even though the girls packed in right behind me were literally right behind me. I could feel their arms touching the back of mine or even my back every so often. There wasn’t really any room back there but these ladies decided to try to pass through and the one lady ran right smack into my butt not once but twice. Upon first contact I sucked in my butt a bit but then 2 seconds later she slammed right into it again. Before I could attempt to shift a second time she yells out “damn you got ass!” as I lowered my head in a prolonged giggle. An older guy on the side was laughing too. I don’t talk about my bubble butt much. I tend to leave it where it rests… behind me but that lady made me laugh. I couldn’t be hurt or offended because of how big she was herself and the size of the opening, if you could call it that, she was trying to pass through.

Also, it always warms my heart when you can get thousands of people of all types together to have a good, positive time. The arts can do that. Different ages, cultures, backgrounds and the like all gathered in their love for art, in this case one of the quintessential hip hop acts from the golden age of the genre. I did enjoy the whole cosmic universal togetherness part of it despite my discomfort with air, space and loneliness.  

So while there were some good moments, it just wasn’t enough. When DJ Cutler announced he had a few more songs to spin and that Salt n Pepa would be on at 8:30 (it was 7:35ish) I thought there’s no way I can make through almost another hour with little to no entertainment as uncomfortable as I was. When there was music and dancing I could get lost in the beat, or lost in the dancer’s feet. Those things could take my discomfort away temporarily and prolong my stay. Without them, my mind had nowhere to go but where it was and the smoke kept coming and the people kept bumping and there was no one I knew in sight.

It was then I really started surveying the crowd in every direction looking for anyone I knew. I would have taken a co-worker, my mailman, a MySpace friend, even a person I saw at the store yesterday. There was nothing but strange faces. I was getting close to tapping out. I spent about 15 more minutes in that nearly desperate state. From almost the time I arrived I waited for someone to save me but after about 90 minutes total of overcrowded solitude I felt the need to save myself. I felt so uncomfortable and I was feeling sadder by the minute. I really can’t stand to feel that way, especially when the sadness joins the loneliness, so I started to make my way for the walking bridge and out of the concert. Once out I walked all the way home from the Harbor and while I did I pondered why I have this need to share the good times so damn much. I walked briskly trying to angrily convince myself I don’t need anyone when it’s completely obvious I do. I see right through my pride but I admit it’s easy to see inside. I wondered why I get so emotional… then I wondered why was I thinking of Whitney Houston when I should have been watching Salt n Pepa? J

After 70 minutes of walking I finally arrived home. Despite the fact I left prematurely and felt like I left something unfinished, I did start to feel a little better by relieving the pressure. I unlock my door and start to walk in. These days I have to walk in carefully because I have moving boxes all around. Despite that knowledge, I accidently brushed my backside against the top box in a stack and it tumbled to the floor. I smile and think to myself “Damn you got ass” as I gently close the door.   

Change (8-15-12)

"If we don't change, we don't grow. If we don't grow, we aren't really living."

-Gail Sheehy

If you look closely you can start to find changes all around. Leaves are starting to fall to the earth. Nights are becoming bearable for sleep. There’s a subtly changing vibe in the air. There are different colors, new events on the horizon, current events wrapping up. Shakespeare in the Park is in its last week. The Tuesday night Bidwell park concert series just concluded and Thursday at the Harbor only has 2 shows left. The Buffalo Bisons’ baseball season is nearly over. Football and hockey (hopefully) are right around the corner. I was telling someone recently that every time fall approaches I get excited because fall is my favorite season. Then when spring arrives 6 months later, spring becomes my favorite season… at least until the next fall. It goes on and on like that, always has been and while summer and winter are pretty reliable and predictable in terms of what you are going to get there’s always something exciting about fall and spring because of what you are going to get…  you’re going to get changes and a lot of them. 

The weather is the most obvious one and that alone has a cause and effect relationship with plenty of other changes. Off the top of my head I can think of quite a few that I make or notice during the fall: Clothes that haven’t been worn in a long time return to the rotation. Scarves, slacks and jeans in particular return to the daily party. The sunsets seem crisper. Butternut squash is back in season! I love the vibrant earthy colors. I’ll start drinking teas and wearing sleeves. There’s the anticipation and excitement of Halloween. I also love the sound of crackling leaves under foot. I definitely begin to pine a little more than usual for someone to snuggle with on those increasing chilly nights and of course, I get an intense craving for all things pumpkiny! Yes, I fall for fall... cheesy but true.

"The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it, move with it, and join the dance."

-Alan Watts

But all those changes notwithstanding this fall feels more significant than many of my recent ones. The first thing and biggest thing is that I’m moving into a new apartment for the first time in over 4 years. Moving is always an annoying endeavor but at the same time it’s still kind of fun and I’m feeling optimistic as this new place is bigger, complete with 2 porches (front and back), full laundry and a new roommate. Now I haven’t had a roommate in 5+ years so that will be an adjustment but she isn’t a clingy person so I can be distant when I need to be and that probably won’t bother her. I’ve also known her for several years and she seems to be very respectful of space and things like that so this is looking like more of a fun thing than a scary thing at this point.

“Change in all things is sweet.”

-Aristotle

In addition to new digs, I’ve been making new friends, moving on from some others. Things keep moving. Perhaps it’s all part of this momentum I’ve slowly been gaining over the last few years... the poetry, the ongoing weight loss and the slow and steady happiness I’ve been accumulating over time. Perhaps I need to keep making changes… sprinkling them in when I can so I can keep growing and evolving. It seemed like for many years there I was stuck, unsure and afraid of everything, completely raw, insecure and hating myself for all the wrong reasons.

When did it change? I’m not 100% sure but I do remember I started to meet quality new people with good energy and then something happened inside of me, sparks were ignited and I got off my ass and started to make some gradual changes. I overcame some fears, generated my own positive energy and here I am walking on this exciting road. Am I moving in the right direction? Does it matter? I have a long way to go but I’m moving and that seems right enough. Besides, I can’t talk about right or wrong until I get to where I’m going but I’ve found in this life that the travel is usually better than the destination and it’s so much better to walk a thousand miles to an unknown but hopeful place than to be waiting on some corner I know all too well for transit that will probably never come while lamenting my lack of wings. 

I’ve discovered while I’m not always ready for them, changes can be good and when I can dictate them like I’ve been doing most of the time lately, they can be very exciting indeed despite any reservations I may have. I can’t help but feel nervous about them. I think that’s true of most people. But me, I’m all about routines. I’m all about easy living, comfort and simple pleasures and I think I sometimes have to go along kicking and screaming a bit in the beginning when I shake things up as I cautiously embrace these changes, because I find them how I always found them, exciting but scary. Sometimes being scared is fun though, it’s part of the reason why I’ve always loved horror movies and when you push yourself to overcome your fears, you discover new worlds and learn more about yourself much like the hero/heroine does when they defeat the monster or villain. We hardly know of the strength within us until we are called upon to use it. Change will do that. Change can test us. Changes can stress us out but in the end they make us stronger. Some changes are certainly easier than others and deciding to make changes can lead to uncertain results but there is one thing that is for certain in our daily lives no matter how much we resist, change.

“If you don't like something, change it. If you can't change it, change your attitude.”

-Maya Angelou

Poetry 201: Recaps and Recordings (8-3-12)

A week ago today I was stressed and excited like you wouldn’t believe. I was only hours away from my poetry show Young Hearts and Old Minds and I wanted badly for things to go well. I’ve only been reading out sporadically the last few years but I feel like I’ve grown a lot as a poet. In the beginning I was petrified to read in front of people, which is quite natural but somehow in the 15 or so performances I’ve made at slams, open mics and festivals, the reading in front of strangers thing doesn’t bother me anymore. I’ve overcome that fear, poetry 101 passed with a B+. Now I’m on to poetry 201 and the anxiety comes from internal rather than external forces. It comes from myself. Now, my big fear is how well I will read the pieces. Will I stumble on certain words or lines? Will my delivery be as good as I want? Will the emphasis and timing be correct when I need it to be? Basically, I worry that I’ll screw up the presentation. I feel confident as a writer but not as much as a reader/performer. Hopefully over time, I’ll get there but as critical of myself as I’ve always been I wonder how long it will take.

For those who wondered how the show went, I’d say it went okay, which probably means it went good if you take my hypercritical nature out of play. I didn’t have any major blunders but I did have a few hiccups out there. Reading for 40-45 minutes straight isn’t easy though and several times in the show I had to sip some water to keep from being too dry, or just to get a few seconds rest and pause. The crowd wasn’t as big as I wanted but part of that was the venue compared to last year’s venue. Last year anyone walking down Allen Street could see me read (and practically hear) and some did venture in and help pad the attendance numbers. This year I read at a really cool venue but it was in the back room of said venue greatly diminishing the amount of casual traffic passing by. Unless you were in the back of the bookstore, you wouldn’t have known anyone was reading back there.

The people who did show up are the best people in the world in my book and I love them for it. I hope they enjoyed themselves hearing my words and stories as much as I did delivering them. The most frequent question I heard this past week was; when was I reading again? Many of the poets in the festival booked themselves 3, 4, 5 or more different slots during the festival. For the 2^nd straight year, I only booked the one. I didn’t realize there was an abundance of slots. I thought, why be greedy and take up several slots from other poets. Now that I see there are tons of them and everyone else is doing it I’ll be sure to grab several more next year and spread it out. Lesson learned.

I did post on my facebook page the links to the audio recorded from the show (Thanks Scott!). Now I’ll post it here. The location is: http://soundcloud.com/eddie-gomez-poetry/sets  All 11 pieces I performed are there and they are set up as 11 individual tracks so you can go to my soundcloud page and click on them separately and listen to one poem, a few or all of them, it’s up to you. Maybe you’ll be in the mood for timeless youth (I Don’t Wanna Grow Up), optimism after heartbreak (The One Hit Wonder), the story of my brother’s passing (8 Days in Hell), tales of friendship and unrequited love (For Her) reaching rock bottom with being overweight (Willing and Unable) and so much more! Any feedback on my words/work is appreciated.

I can’t tell you how elated I am at having my work recorded in some fashion. Well maybe I just did. I’m thrilled! One, it’s there for many of you who wanted to hear me read but cannot due to distance or other factors. Secondly I can’t stress enough how valuable a learning tool it is for me. To be able to hear my interpretation of these pieces at that point and time is helping me to improve. It’s going to help me improve my delivery but also with the 6 brand new pieces I read for the first time last week, I’ve been tweaking them and fixing lines, writing new ones and sharpening them up so the next time you hear them they might be a teeny bit different but hopefully better! Being able to hear them both adds to my confidence and shows what to tweak. Plus adding that element made me feel like the reading was that much more special. It definitely made it a night to remember, at least for me. :)

Tonight unlike last Friday is a very different night. There’s no pressure, no stress and instead of racing down to Allen Street full of nervous energy, I’m gonna work late, head home at a comfy pace and then see where the night takes me if it takes me anywhere at all. In a way I’m relieved I not going through the crazy feelings of a week ago but at the same time I miss it. I think that means I need to read again soon. In this case how about the night after my birthday at the Pure Ink poetry slam at Merge? That’s Wednesday night for all of you who don’t know. That’s where I’ll be next and if you listen closely you’ll be able to hear the changes I’ve made to the newest pieces, 2 of which I’ll be reading there. See you then!

Fireworks (7-6-12)

I just saw the most amazing thing. A few hours ago I wasn’t even sure I’d leave the house but I’m so glad I did. If you read my last blog you know things haven’t been easy for me lately. Usually when I’d hear about some cool thing happening soon I’d tell everyone I know about it. I may have mentioned it to a few people this week but for the most part I didn’t try to organize the peeps to check it out. This is due to how I’ve been feeling. It basically was a tribute to the war of 1812 at Delaware Park with music, entertainment, the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra and a fireworks show at the end. Best of all it was FREE!

Like I said, I mentioned it to a few people but as it turned out no one else could come. Now if you know me you know I hate to go to things alone. To me the best times are shared times, the best things are shared things. What good is a great time if it’s yours and yours alone? So after I had lunch this afternoon I started to think this evening wasn’t going to happen. I began to despair so much that I stayed later at work. Previously I had planned to leave for home by 6pm. The shindig at the park was starting at 5ish and going until the fireworks illuminated the sky after dark. When I left work it was 5 minutes to 8pm. You could say I had all but given up on the festivities. 

I walked into my apartment and my mind was more on food than fun. After I had a quick bite and settled in it was already 8:30… time to tap out and wave the white flag. The whole time I ate and checked social media I wanted to kick off my shoes and remove a few articles of clothing and achieve the next level of comfort, perhaps one that there is no return from but something wouldn’t let me go there.

My mind started to run through the hypothetical but likely. The fireworks wouldn’t start until total darkness which won’t happen until at least 9:30 at the earliest and the BPO would be wrapping up their performance during the fireworks show, so they’d probably start at 8 or even 8:30. I could hop on my bike and be there in 10-15 minutes. I could totally do that. I could still catch a big chunk of the show, even though I took my time to eat, even though I stayed at work an extra 2 hours. I could still do it.

Within a few minutes I was on the road with music blaring through my ear-buds and purpose in my pedaling. I’ve looked forward to this all week, I deserve this; I thought. Why should I not go just because I couldn’t convince anyone else to join me? This was an easy one… a short ride, outdoors, no charge. There was no reason NOT to go. Besides, on the 4th of July I was supposed to go to a cool party and see fireworks and I let my emotions get the better of me and I stayed home. But today is different. Today I wrote a happy poem. Today I left the house when I had all but given up o the evening. Today I might have turned the corner. Today I arrived at the park at about 10 minutes to 9 and even though I came into the park completely across from where the BPO was already playing, I could hear them clearly.

The people looked like ants from as far away as I was but the music was coming through nicely. I stopped next to the baseball diamonds and sat in one of the dugouts. The music sounded great. I wasn’t within eye shot of the show but I could recognize a classic tune that was affiliated with one of the military branches… okay, I could almost recognize it, but the music was loud and clear.

Did I want to continue further into the park and all the way to across from the zoo where the BPO was playing? I could see there were many people in chairs and even some lying on blankets far off in the distance. I wanted to enjoy the music but I didn’t really want to be around the people. So I stayed where I was for 10 minutes and thought it over to a beautiful soundtrack. After the 10 minutes of deliberating I decided I didn’t want to go any closer and in fact, I wanted to go a little further away. I thought about heading across the park to the lake side. I wanted to sit on the back stairs of the Albright Knox for the fireworks show. That sounded good. It would only take 5 minutes or so to ride there. I wouldn’t be able to hear the Orchestra any longer but I had somehow romanticized the back stairs at the gallery enough to myself that I didn’t mind the loss of the music.

I hopped on my bike and started back along the path but before I could even get 10 seconds into my trip I noticed something. I noticed the fireworks. They were set up on the golf course near the expressway side of the park. They were only 500 yards from where I was riding at that moment. Then I had an idea. Why not sit near the fireworks?!? I hopped off my bike and walked it onto the grass and made my way over to the kids’ soccer fields. Next to each of the two fields is a set of bleachers and I locked my bike up next to the one that was closest to the fireworks. I sat alone, a few rows up and now I was only about 100 yards away from them. As a bonus I could still hear the sweet symphony playing on the other side of the park.

There I sat and waited until it was nearly 10pm. It seemed pitch dark in the park and by now the joggers, bikers and walkers were at a minimum. I was so close to the fireworks set up, it seemed surreal… and NO one was anywhere nearby save the people passing a few hundred yards away on the exercise trails who were preoccupied with their fitness. I wondered if the fireworks were going to be extra loud being so close to them. I left my ear-buds in my ears to provide a small degree of protection against the booming sounds. It’s a good thing I did because when they began it sounded like cannons going off right next to me. The colors and sounds were amazing! The fireworks were going off so close to where I was I actually had to lay across the bleachers a bit to take it all in comfortably and not have to tilt my head up so drastically. They were right on top of me! It was the greatest fireworks show I’ve ever seen, no doubt due to my proximity to it. I had never been so close before and the whole 15 minutes that the sky above me was lit, no one was near me.

There I was practically lying underneath this majestic show and I was alone, and I enjoyed myself. Do I wish friends and/or loved ones could have been there to share that moment with me? Of course I do but for once that didn’t stop me from enjoying myself. Besides as I smiled and blurted out exclamations of joy under the color and lights while I sat there alone I felt special. Maybe I was too wrapped up in the moment but it was hard not to be. It felt like the show was happening just for me… they shouldn’t have. But regardless, I really appreciated it.