With All The Songs To Sing When We At Last Return Again

With this blog, and I guess any personal online periodical, there's always an imaginary line drawn between the personal life you share and the personal life you don't. Three days ago, my grandfather died and that accounts for my lack of posts on any "Poli" (trademark pending) platform in a good while. Please don't be offended or taken aback if I never told you. I didn't really tell anyone unless they asked why I couldn't hang out. I didn't really want to bring other people down and I doubt very much that in the mysterious hereafter my grandfather suddenly had the desire to be technology savvy enough to consult my facebook to confirm I was missing the heck out of him, so I played the whole situation pretty close to my chest for better or worse. With that said, those of you that did hear about his passing, I thank you for your well wishes and support through the time.

So, I feel like talking about the ins and outs of the situation and various ceremonies would be emotionally taxing on both of us, but I did want to take a blog post to recount a couple memories and pay tribute to him in my own way. However, I also want to keep these posts in a somewhat chronological order. The bottom line is, with respect to my grandfather, I'm going to write this post as if nothing has happened. I wanted to preface the piece in this way just so it didn't look like I was ignoring the situation completely. Look for a post in the near future regarding his passing and until then, enjoy this one.


This past weekend I had the awesome opportunity to revisit my collegiate stomping grounds (I say that like I'm 50, but it's only been 5 months.) of York College. Armed with an Arizona green tea, judged by "Where Did You Get That Corn?" to be the greatest American deal since the Louisiana Purchase, I made the great sojourn with the Sachers (sanz Zach) who were off to visit Rosalie, who's just getting acquainted with the space I've come to love and call home for the past four years.

I respect the hell out of the way the Sachers run a road trip. They equip themselves with a variety of snacks and various libations and settle in for the long haul. Everyone was able to reign in their fluids until we were just outside of Harrisburg (a camel-like skill I inherit from my father) and we actually stopped at the same rest stop at which I lost my headphones sophomore year of school. They weren't there anymore.

Anyway, we made great time and talking with the Sachers is always a great experience. They needed some help bringing some random freshman essentials i.e. soup, ramen, and soda, up to Rosalie's room so I had the chance to take a look at York's new dorms. They might as well be a hotel. Don't get me wrong, I had the time of my life freshman year, but living in Laurel Hall was equivalent to setting up camp in a concrete box with plumbing. It had a couple of windows through which one could easily whisper "suck a cock" in the anonymity of the night. (It was one time.) The domicile was pretty basic. These new dorms are anything but.

Carpeted hallways, elevators, no distinct odor of bodily waste, common areas with cushy chairs and microwaves for community use, hand sanitizer, caviar serving butlers with quaint non-oppressive British accents... okay, that's a stretch, but the digs were unreal. The rooms themselves are pretty basic, and the bathrooms won't stay spotless for long, I have to admit, but still...

I wasn't, by any stretch of the imagination, expecting my return to be emotional or anything. Like I said, it has only been 5 months, but I was shocked at how normal it felt to be there at first. It didn't feel like a visit, is what I'm saying, it just kind of felt like my summer was a little longer than everybody else's. I took the 10:30am walk over to Dennis' house, the confines of the 7-2-7 being kind enough to house me, and was reminded that on a Saturday in York College "morning" does not begin until noon. I found not a creature was stirring at the place until I roused Dunn from his slumber and he opened the door. Dennis was cajoled out of his nest a short time later and joined us. Having seen Dennis a couple of weeks ago, we didn't have all too much to catch up on, so I hopped over to Ben and Jake's to find Ben Scott hard at work cleaning up after what at the time could be presumed to be a homicide. Fearing for my well being, I agreed with everything Ben Scott said occurred. As much as I could make out, the story went like this:

Jake felt as though Ben's freshly made sandwich looked a little dry for his liking and, being the great friend he is, took it upon himself to moisten the midnight snack with a dousing of your finest light beer. Ben was so appreciative of the gesture that he sought a glass from the once closed cabinet and requested Jake wet his whistle with him. In his eagerness to share the brew, Ben put a little too much mustard on his toss and the glass struck and shattered on Jake's head. Jake insisted the incident wasn't a big deal and to prove it, offered him multiple beers in quick succession.

Short story: Jake soaked Ben's sandwich, he got pissed, threw a glass at his head cutting him open, after a thorough examination from everyone but a doctor, it was deemed okay that Jake go to bed. Fortunately, he woke up okay the next morning. It was good to see that not much had changed in my time away.

After becoming an accessory to the crime and helping dispose of the evidence, I went over to the indoor fall fest at the GC to catch up with Rhapsody. It was great to catch up with them and due to their lack of basses for their scheduled performance, I was able to sing some tunes with them. I think it was an experience that I enjoyed a lot more than I would have you believe. The only drawback was Mike Adams taking multiple photos of the performance. As much fun as it was, I'm not sure how I'd feel about showing up on the school website post-graduation. Again, I don't mean to present this as a negative experience, but it was a little on the weirder side. Words kind of fail me to describe this, but overall it was a great time I wouldn't trade for much.

I do have to say, the one and only, Justin Rivera, made the experience that day. He sees me and feels the need to tell me that he's going to be late for the performance. I kind of laugh because I'm no longer the guy to tell those kinds of things, and when I was the guy to tell those kinds of things, he never told me those kinds of things. I figure whatever though, old habits, or lack thereof, die hard. We both laugh it off. Then however, about ten minutes later he asks me where Rhapsody is meeting and what songs they were singing. At that moment the situation went from a mistake any Rhapsodian could make to something that could only be carried out by Justin Rivera. I, again, told him that being not a member of the group, I had no idea where anyone was meeting and when. He again laughed in the spirit of admittedly charming apathy and we sought the group together. Truly one of a kind, but I figure as long as I don't get any Sunday night texts on Long Island that he's going to be late for rehearsal, all's well that ends well.

The weekend worked out nicely in that it happened to be Joe Mayes' birthday. A lot of people came out to celebrate the occasion. It was great to catch up with so many people at Murph's. Prior to heading over, I met up with Sharnell and Jess (two of my favorite people) at Jaci's (not so much) and we caught up and whatnot and after a few backhanded insults to Jaci, it really felt like I was home again and we went over to Murph's.

A lot of us spent the evening lighting up the dance floor, which was a lot of fun, and Nate was wearing purple, which is a gift that keeps on giving. At one point a song which Carly apparently liked quite a bit came on and in her efforts to make it to the dance floor as quickly as possible, she nearly hurdles poor Joe, who was nursing soreness from the day's Frisbee tourney and struggling to get out of her way in time. Joe's few moments of clear discomfort with a grinning and uncaring Carly behind him was easily one of the funniest visuals I've seen in a long time and a highlight of the trip.

After a good while of dancing with everyone, Jess and I eventually wound up pairing off. I think it was a pairing we were both grateful for because I was running out of both gas and creativity for dance moves and we both had a distinct understanding of the 5 to 10 second transition period of dancing from one song to another. I had a great time with her and the rest of the crew and I left them with the sight of Jaci walking away backwards into the night. While anytime Jaci is moving away from me is worth celebrating, this was additionally special.

I then hopped over to Brett's to see some more friends, including the briefest of Czar sightings. The party was soon broken up by the cops, unfortunately. However, this was the first time in my life I saw a student cop interaction go by the book, so to speak. In my limited, but no less established experience with cops busting up parties, either the cop has seemingly been kind of a jerk, or some loud mouth punk tries to be tough and ruins the name of most all other college students. In this case, the cop simply said to get out and leave your beer or you're going in cuffs. Perfectly reasonable, he's got to do his job, and the kids really did leave in a quiet and orderly fashion. I mean, I saw some kids stuffing beers in their coats as they ventured into the night, but for the most part, the transition was a smooth one. It was warming to see a cop interaction handled so calmly by both the police and the students. It gave me faith in humanity in a subtle way.

I then when back to Matt's and had a first experience with Drunk Driver, (it's a card game, relax) I told a story that centered around a desert journey to a river of Jello while beards got tangled and people buried themselves in the sand while one poor soul continually offered to remove his shirt. Needless to say, after that it was time for bed.

Sunday was chill, went out to dinner with Brian and Sharnell. Always great to see and chat with them. Then the piece de resistance... Rhapsody practice. It was tremendous to be back and I was welcomed with a classic Nate sandwich, which is the highlight of any man's day. The group sounded great and to sing with them was a real privilege. The group was kind enough to blow the dust off Ants for the new cats (who all seem cool and nice) and we sang some old staples for returning alums. The highlight of the rehearsal however, was easily the spontaneous "Lion Sleeps Tonight" jam session. To have everyone get so immersed in something we just made up off the tops of our heads took me right back to my favorite times with that group. It was incredible. Words fail me for the second time. The new group was very welcoming and I thank them truly and deeply.

The next day, I caught a ride to Philly with the Czar; always a better time than I'd like to admit. We even made a quick stop in Port Deposit (not very cryptically named) and with the exception of a rather underwhelming well (pun wasn't intended the first time I said it, but by now... yeah, it is) sighting, I had a great time talking with Mr. Heaps about past great Baltimore Bullets, Wes Unseld, and Black Jesus, "The Pearl". I love talking about the old game man, a lot of fun. Amber and I spent the trip discussing, among other things, rainbows, the impossibility of excreting an actual brick from your backside, and the finer points of stripping as hobby and/or profession.

A trip to York I won't soon forget. Hoping to go back in late November, but if not, definitely this spring. Thanks again to everyone for catching up with me.

That Tuesday I had a featured poetry reading at a local coffee shop. It went really well and Jay was kind enough to lend a hand and we performed some spoken word and Marley songs. People really seemed to dig it, and with the exception of an aptly placed "chosen one" from Jay that very nearly through me off my game for good, everything went according to plan. The night was capped off with an ode to the one and only Sean Taylor, which is the best cherry to place atop any night. Look for a hard copy of that piece and a few others to make their way to the Internet as soon as tonight.



Song of the Day: Lenny-Stevie Ray Vaughan
Jazz Song of the Day: Only the Lonely-Keith Jarrett Trio

Playing Time Against My Troubles

I may or may not be melting as I type this. Even nestled in the cozy catacombs of my unlit basement (coincidentally listening to the Miles track that provides the namesake of this blog) the sun's relentless rays appear to be on the hunt. While being as cool as Miles Davis is indeed impossible, I was hoping he could at least drop me down a few degrees. It doesn't appear to be working.

I digress.

This, if I recall, is the first, and likely last, truly anticipated blog post as it will center around the Stockhausen family gathering and the great honor and pleasure to be a part of last weekend. Unfortunately, I entered the scene just as Sean Taylor was leaving to handle some business. I know that there have been a few time in this thing where I go a little hard on Sean because simply sometimes it just can't be helped. However, in all seriousness, I can think of no man I know who works harder at what he loves to do and does a better job with it. I can't respect Sean Taylor enough and I'm proud to consider him a dear friend.

For the second time in about three posts, "enough with the sentimental stuff."

I entered the place and the jam session was already in full swing. I can think of few better ways to enter a space than to be immediately wrapped in the embrace of casual live music. It brings about the desire for reflection in me, a feeling I always embrace.

I didn't need much provocation to join the festivities and I laid down a few spontaneous verses and some vocals etc. Ben and Mr. Taylor were really welcoming to my vibe and we created some tunes that people really seemed to enjoy. Ben and I really seemed to be in the pocket that night. A kind of musical niche, if you well. It's something I'm starting to develop with Jay as we play about once a week, but I haven't had it consistently since I used to play with the Beard. It's overwhelmingly pleasant to be able to read another musicians mind and respond to their stimulus. It was a great session and something that was definitely present in the room that night.

I love Mr. Taylor's demeanor in jam sessions. The man has a wealth of talent and knowledge that I always seem to learn from. He's really very open as a musician, yet he's very quick the facilitate the action by saying to someone "keep it up" or "wait" or "cut it out." He's passionate and all, but I think that can be said about all of us. What's cool is that the man has ears all over the room and is confident enough to try and bring the sound in his head to life. It's always a different kind of session when he's involved. I mean that in a very positive sense. He tends to bring out the best in people.

Following the session I was a little embarrassed because I sweating pretty profusely following not very much actual physical activity. With that said, I do tend to stay in a perpetual state of motion when performing. A state of motion I found defined me amongst Deanna's more distant relatives. A couple of times I was told that they were asking Deanna about the guy who did {Inset your own spontaneous hip and hand gyration here} and whether or not he was coming that night. I was quite flattered and suddenly very aware of just how mobile the human body could be.

This brings me to my next point of discussion: The Stockhausen family.

The Stockhausen's have always been incredibly warm people towards me and this past weekend only further highlighted their welcoming nature. After the session, the family decided to play some thumper (I wish this game came up at half of my family gatherings) a game which I hadn't played since a Vermont trip a couple of years back. You know it's going to be an occasion to remember when grandma joins in on the fun. It was just a great time. To see a family laughing and enjoying one another so much was great and I knew I was witnessing something very special.

Though I will say that if I shared the "whip-a-doodle" with any of my relatives, I don't doubt that I would be barred from any future family occasions until such time as I could be proven sane.

After the game died down, they all stayed up for at least another hour and shared stories from their younger days about some wild times and whatnot that I won't repeat here, but the openness in the family unbelievable and enviable. I had a wonderful time. This family dynamic was one of a kind and I can't thank them enough for making me feel like one of their own.

Shared at the Beanberry this past week again. The intimacy of the place continues to blow my mind. I was little concerned about sharing this week, given that my most recent piece is about my relationship to basketball. I mean no disrespect, but the crowd didn't exactly strike as a crew invested in the present and past of the NBA. It was of real comfort to see some friendly faces in the audience. I'm really appreciative to those people for attending. You know who you are, and it meant quite a bit to me. Thank you. Hopefully we'll be buffin' it up on the beach in short order.

Again the crowd was really receptive and it was great hear such great talent gathered in one place. Not to call him out, but it was the first time I'd seen Ryan Smith perform and I enjoyed it quite a bit. I look forward to spending more time in that space.

I will say this, only I could perform a piece and leave with two guys' numbers. Kind of a shake your head moment, to say the least.

Camp goes well. I feel like I have about three stories a day, but when it comes to blogging, I have to kind of trim the fat. A couple of things.

1. As a result of my Monopoly prowess, (I actually lost the game, but they don't seem to care/notice) a few kids have started calling me "The Constable." I'm thrilled with the moniker. "Poli" has treated me well, but it may be time for a change. I remember wanting to be called "Young Jeezy" for a day in Rhapsody just to see if we could get through it with a straight face. Also, I've always secretly dreamed of being called Sir Topham Hatt by my peers, but that's another blog post entirely.

2. I want to preface this by saying I certainly mean no disrespect, I just can't lie. I find it hilarious when little kids around here assume that two black kids that hang out together are siblings. To hear such blunt honesty from kids on both ends of the question is absurdly humorous to me. It says a lot about our neck of the woods. Again, not the most P.C. thing I've ever said, but I swear to witness it is to believe it.

Stay cool, dear readers.

Advice of the Day: When seeking employment, sometimes working hard is not enough. You've got to learn to be a respectful pain in the ass, too.

Song of the Day: 1921- The Who

Jazz Song of the Day: I Guess I'll Hang My Tears Out To Dry- Keith Jarrett Trio

Hunger For The Dreams I'll Never See

The hands of fate appear to be drawing me to a place that has always been nearby, but never really on my list of frequented places until this summer. I first went to the Beanberry Caffe on assignment for the Patch to see their comedy night. The event was a solid one, not much to say about it, but it really was pretty enjoyable. Come to think of it, the only thing worth mentioning was this mother whom I'd been shooting the breeze with waiting for the show to start said I'd be perfect for her daughter. I just kind of nodded and said thanks, I really had little intention of following that up. However, what little impetus I had to follow up quickly vanished when her next sentence was something to the tune of "if you break her heart my husband will get someone to break your legs." Ah, the innocence of a budding romance. I, again, kind of nodded and said thanks. Another woman, noticing my shirt with her name, said I knew nothing about Janis Joplin. We exchanged thoughts on her music and some very basic trivia about her life and apparently I passed the test. She then said I was cute and went to rub my face. The interview ended immediately.

Anyway, the atmosphere is awesome there. For lack of a better term, there's a really chill and intimate vibe. They offer a variety of food and assorted drinks including tea, wine, and beer. As if that weren't enough, they have a scrabble board too. It would seem I've found a home away from home.

This past Tuesday, they had an open mic there. Usually, my spot for musical open mics is pretty exclusively the Velvet Lounge unless I'm going to see a specific friend someplace else. A friend, Eliot Greene, mentioned that the Beanberry was pretty open to poetry reading as well. That was a refreshing proposition because I'm not a fan when poetry is kind of the elephant in the room when surrounded by great tunes. It's a little unnerving in my opinion. Anyway, I went to take in the scene and really had no intention of performing, but the talent there was really impressive, and I've already spoken with much aplomb about the setting, so I went for it and read one piece of mine I brought just in case and inspired by Eliot, laid out some improv verses that people really seemed to enjoy. I was thrilled with the warming reaction and reception and definitely plan on attending pretty often. Not since York have I felt so at ease to share some of my work and experiment with my lexicon in public. The Beanberry is providing an outlet that I find myself really hungering for at this point in my life. I can't say enough about the quality of the place and people.

I had accidentally showed up to the session an hour too early and witnessed three high school aged kids nose deep in their gameboys and having in depth conversations about the quality and apparent strategy of various pokemon games and levels. I'm not even trying to hate on it. It was really enriching to hear people be so passionate about something that I didn't understand/didn't care about too much. I kind of realized how I must sound when the NBA comes up in conversation in certain company.

A few days ago I went to Cedar Beach to shoot some hoops as I do every now and then. I summer camp pulled up and they watched my play for a while. Then, I imagine they thought they were whispering, but I could hear them plain as day as they spoke about how I was really good and whatnot... what they said is kind of irrelevant, but the idea is pretty important. I then heard them debate amongst themselves as to whether they should ask "the stranger" to play. Many kids said no for that very reason, others seemed really eager to play with me. I watched them put it to a vote and was quite proud of the demonstration of democracy. I imagine it was decided I shouldn't play because I never heard anything more about joining their ranks. It's so interesting to see kids in their interactions with each other.

Speaking of kids, the summer camp I work at has started up again. It's good to be back and brush up on my "lava monster" and jump rope, both of which had gotten quite rusty over the past 10 months. I feel like rather than tell you all about my camp days and likely bore you, I'll simply share one or two highlights of each day.

7/11

1. Girl feeling tired intentionally closes her eyes while walking and proceeds to ram herself into a wooden fence, cutting her chin open. Confusion still lingers about what she expected would happen.

2. 10 year-old boy takes great pride in "Wolverine" impression. Actual impression tends resemble more of an effeminate catwoman, complete with hissing sound which may or may not be voluntary. A big part of me wants to tell him to knock it off, but a bigger part of me doesn't want to endeavor to explain to him why he should knock it off. I leave it alone after becoming open to the idea that maybe my ninja turtle impressions as a youngster weren't as spot on as I hoped they were. Ignorance is bliss, witnessing ignorance can be even more rewarding.

The Kraus family had a gathering to celebrate Emily's graduation from UD. These gatherings are always a good time. Part of what makes these days so special are the volleyball games that take place. Two quick stories along those lines before I let you go.

1. Mild-mannered Ben Kraus took his game to another level and was all over the court. Good to see his mean streak on full display as he took on all comers unbiasedly laying down the law to each one. As the other team innocently tossed the ball over to our side for us to serve, Ben spiked the ball emphatically out of reflex, leaving stunned spectators and players on both sides in his wake. Also, his brother called him "Daddy Long Legs." I really got a kick out of this very appropriate nickname.

2. As was bound to happen, the volleyball was hit into Emily's pool. Rather than wait for the ball to float to the side where it could be picked up, Emily's uncle went to lean in and grab the ball. Everyone knew this was a bad idea, but we looked on in silence anyway. His risk proved costly as he fell in the pool, soaking his phone. I'd be lying if I said I didn't crack a smile, but it was more of a shame than humorous. What was funny was Emily's uncle's friend coming to his aid was a lawn lamp to get the ball with and/or for him to grab on to. Now to be fair, I cannot with 100 percent certainty say that the object was a lamp and even if it was a lamp (which I do think it was) it was definitely not plugged in. But even with that said, there's something hilarious about about grabbing something strictly electrical to fetch something out of a pool. That laughter was not as easy to disguise. Grebe and I were on similar pages in that regard and shared a hearty laugh and fake noises of electrocution for the rest of the night.

Song of the Day: Roll Right- Rage Against the Machine

Jazz Song of the Day: Lost- Wayne Shorter