Audio – Page 132 – Citizen Reporter

Mom Mustn’t Read

It’s a strange thing to see how the place where you were raised has changed. Especially when it comes to the actual house. For those of us who are lucky enough to experience it, when your parents still live in the house where you spent your childhood, it can be a wonderful thing. Not necessarily for them, but for you the traveller, the one who moved far away. You get to come home and feel protected and 12 years old again. (if you want… assuming 12 was a good year)

But often, as many of us know, things change… sometimes slowly, as in my case. The parents have gotten involved with a shiney new cabana near the beach, way down in the south of NJ. Outside of A-Ren the great, beloved grandson, the new cabana has become there biggest priority. They buy things for it. They worry about it. They sacrafice time and energy for it. Hell, Im almost jealous of the dam thing.

And so during my visit, I’m attempting to appreciate it. Their project… their new love. But every free second I get, I come home to my REAL house. The one with a REAL neighborhood, and folks we’ve known for years. The one with CABLE and INTERNET, and TREES and RACCOONS. I look at my old house, the place that watched me grow up and took care of me… and I feel contempt for the new place. What with its shiney doodads and thingamajigs… IT MUST NEVER replace our house.

But who am I? I live in the ‘dam! Across the ocean. I have forfitted my right to complain and file a petition. Regardless of my theories and worries, it is ALREADY happenning. They are in love with the idea of the NEW HOUSE. And the old one seems more of a burden to them. Their burden is my beloved home. The source of so much of my, what in portuguese we call: “saudade.”

Fucking changes.

Today’s Sounds: Talib Kweli – Beautiful Struggle (learning to love it)

Happy Pagan Holiday

Home Work

One of the wackiest things about going home to be with your family during the festivuses is the things that we do around the house. As the next generation, and generally speaking, the younger/healthier/technologically saavy-ier, we bring home our big brains filled with knowledge about fighting the war against spyware, viruses, disfunctional computer components, and lest we not forget – wireless internet.

For their part the elders have tried to keep up in our absence. They’ve spent the loot to buy a few of the latest toys they’ve heard the kids are using. Or they’ve waited with loot in hand for our arrival to go shopping for the latest in personal-pod-computing-beep beep beep-publishing equipment.

And so I face a somewhat similar fate as so many are recounting via blogs. I remember an article in some magazine about this. And then I saw Karisa’s email on busblog, which reflected my fate with the parental units computer stuff. I am the chosen one… I am a jedi… I will fix it.

Of course not all ye bloggers are fixing stuff. Some are just hanging at home like the dude, takin ‘er easy for all of us sinners. One of my most favorite home-for-the-holidays blogging has been coming from Bunny Mac.

On a more serious note, it’s the anniversary of that nightmare earthquake in Bam, Iran. One year ago… the communiqu? remembers.

Today’s Sounds: Blind Melon – Nico Blue (diggin through my cd archives)

Pile of Stuff

Like myself, I hope you all got something you wanted this festivus.

I was pretty much satisfied meeting my 7 month old nephew, A-Ren, for the first time since his birth. Those big blue eyes make all my troubles melt away. I just lean towards him and make sounds, he responds with his own blend of clicking and chanting. Then his little paws reach out for me, until he quickly turns and buries his head into my sis’s shoulder like a human ostrich baby.

But just when you think you don’t need anything else… someone gets you a palette of maple syrup from one of these insane wholesale supermarkets. I hope they’ve got room on that Air Portugal flying tylenol… I needs me my syrup. And my books by Mo Rocca, John Stewart, and a collection of other radical revolutionaries. Not to mention my new CD’s; The Stars, Talib Kweli, and the Slackers. Yeehaww.. time to update my wishful list.

If you’re looking for last minute day-after-festivus gifts, I recommend a one-two-three punch. First, get How To Blog. Then add a pinch of Jamie’s artwork. And round it off with Grouphug.us ‘s book of confessions. If you don’t read grouphug, go look. As Mr. Winter of Discontent will tell you, it’s fantastic! (happy festivus Michael)

Oh and sometimes I can predict the future before it happens. YES its true. Just like that. I hate to say it, but regardless of tomorrow’s election, the average Ukrainian is fucked. Especially if you work in a mine. Or if you simply don’t work at all. It is good to be part of a cause, and to demonstrate or live in a tent city in the center of the city. It is awesome do hold up the finger and the ruling party and the corrupt bastards. It is even awesomer to look election officials in the eye and say this is bullshit! But friends… you’re in the Ukraine… where the world demands that you stay in a state of cold, bitterness, and declining economics. Hooray for freemarkets… hold you hands out and maybe it will trickle down from the east or west. Let’s all do the election boogie.

Today’s Sounds: The Stars – Nightsongs

The best moment

The front door just opened…. Im about to see my nephew…

Tribute to a lady

I’m jetlagged, but it doesn’t stop me from thinking of my baby… Ms.Thingk, who today left Amsterdam forever. In doing so, she leaves my daily life. No more wrapping at my chamber door… so lightly tapping… NEVERMORE.

When we first met I was manning the bridge of the fishtank, keeping the universe safe for internauts. She saw me blogging? and I looked at her and was hypnotized. I bla-bla-bla’d about weblogs and my addiction to them, the whole time thinking ? dam this girl is fun. And by fun I mean hot. And funny. Which I combine into fun. So naturally I wanted to work her into the blog… and take her around my city. Hence the invention of “this ol park.”

But little did I know, the girl I once referred to as “Kirstin Dunst’s Twin” would become my left-hand woman. Together we’d invade neighborhoods, rock street markets, and cruise the parties. Bicyclemark rules of engagement usually disallow any closeness with international one-semester types, but this one was beyond my control… we were fast friends. And even though she’d usually turn her attention to some dude at the party, and I’d run off flirting with some yummy gal, she was still the reason for the season. She made student life fun again, even for a no-longer-student, fishtank supervisor like myself.

And so today I picture her on the flight back to Holland… Michigan, rather somber having just left her beloved ‘Dam, and I miss her already. I’m sure she’s striking up conversation with the mysterious long haired heart-throb type sitting next to her, and little does he know what a lucky guy he is… to ever get the chance to meet THE Ms. Thingk.

Tonight, during my first meal in the people’s republic of New Jersey, I shall raise my glass in tribute to my darling… and say thank you. Thanks for gracing the pages of my blog and the days of my life for the last 5 months. Amsterdam will miss you. The University will suck without you. And I will lose a bit of zing in my bike peddling

But hey, we’ll always have the blogosphere!