"I Never Knew But I Do Now"

Emerging out of darkness with either a poorly paraphrased Conrad reference, or a perfectly poignant nod to the 85 people worldwide who saw "Scream 4". I have returned to beat upon this typing instrument and shake the dust off of this blog, now hypothetically residing in the most Amish section of cyberspace possible, Lancaster Pennsylvania.

All flexing of literacy and thesaurus aside, it's a pleasure to back and I thank you for your patience and support as I settle into my new PA digs and pseudo long-term employment. I imagine a great many of you are tuning in to see how things are going; namely the job, new people and new area.

Regarding the job, there's less to say than you might think for a couple of reasons.

1. While writing product descriptions for various commercial and household kitchen equipment is not the most boring thing in the world to do, it may well be the most boring thing in the world to talk about. Rather than struggle to make the finer points of kettles and salt shakers sound compelling, I'm going to pull ye olde faste forwarde and narrow the experience down to a couple, likely less-than-concise points.

2. While I'm incredibly thankful to be employed and enjoy a lot of aspects of what I do, I don't want speak too candidly about the experience because you never know who's reading.

For those not well versed in all things Poli (I don't blame you), I'm essentially writing product descriptions and, very soon, blogs for a company that sells restaurant equipment over the internet. The job itself was quite an adjustment on a lot of levels, as you can imagine. I think firstly the realization that life on your own, own is different than even living on your own in college. I mean, in college, you learn to handle bills, manage money, handle landlords, work with/live with people, use your freedom constructively etc., it's definitely not a walk in the park sometimes, but in hindsight you at least had people all around in similar situations. Succeeding in college is not a breeze, I would never tell you otherwise and have the 3.8 cumm. to back it up, but, in a sense, you always had "college" in common with people. These are people you really grew into adults with and those bonds, positive or negative, are permanent and strong as can be. To be thrust into a place full of actual strangers at different points in their lives makes for a very different adjustment. It was weird to kind of be truly alone for a couple of days (before I opened up to people and at work and vice versa while trying to learn the ins and outs of this new environment. It was definitely a little overwhelming, but something that I undoubtedly learned a lot from.

I will say that since the start of my time at Clark Associates, while not exactly a breeding ground for social interaction, everyone I've spoken to has been nothing but nice and supportive and I'm proud to call a few of them my friends, even at the early stages of this not quite career. One perk of the job is that it works a little more with computers and html than I thought it did. Now, usually computers and I go together like grape jam and ceiling fans, but I think that's why I'm enjoying learning about that stuff because I really feel like I'm learning applicable skills from scratch and, dare I say, doing so quite quickly and efficiently. I kind of feel like that's part of what an entry level position is all about; having no freaking idea what's going on and powering through anyway. I can honestly say I've been working my tail off to succeed and I study where I can and I feel like the right people have been impressed with my progress, given my starting point. You'll have to take my word for it that at a place like this, praise comes at a premium.

Learning the system at Clark has had its hurdles, but it was amazing how much of a learning process the writing itself has been. I mean, I had no expectations of riding into the place on horse and buggy and suddenly being awesome at it, but I admit that I was kind of under the impression that if you showed me the technological aspects of the job, the writing would take care of itself. Not to sound immodest, but that's kind of how things have always come to me ever since I first put pen to pad, but this was a change. My task was essentially to take a syrup dispenser and make it seem like you're tabletop wouldn't look right without it. I promise, this is harder than it sounds and definitely required a bit of a learning curve. I remember on day one saying to myself, more seriously than I'd like to admit, "Well, it's a syrup pourer; 12 ounces; pours syrup nicely." For a while I felt like I'd rather write a novel in a night than one of these descriptions, but again, I learned quickly thanks to a lot of help from those around me and I'm really starting to find my groove there, which is a relief in itself, knowing that the people around me know that I'm working hard and willing to and capable of learning.

Regarding life outside the mecca of cookware, I'm going to save most of that for another post this weekend, but I've started playing in a Monday night basketball league, spend most weekends with good friends in York, have a place in the Lanc where I watch basketball when I can, made a couple friends here in and out of the workplace, and am going to start hitting up a couple open mics next week to fill up some admittedly empty Tuesday-Thursday evenings. Again, much more about the specifics of more social aspects life amongst the Mennonite.

Song of the Day: Consequence-Incubus
Jazz Song of the Day: It Might As Well Be Spring-Rene Marie

Displaced People, Misplaced Towels

On the Friday prior to my departure for God's Country, my sister and friends banded together to throw me a surprise party proving to be a final and fitting send off and a night worthy of great great memories. I was, indeed, surprised to the full extent shock and awe, but the previous day, in hindsight consisted of a couple of moments that should have tipped off that something was amiss in Dublin (a "Ulysses" reference for my boy, Denny Basens).

The previous evening, Thursday for those keeping track, I had had a long day trying to get my feet wet in the car buying game. The day was so rough that I even got a little snippy with a disguised Sean Taylor as he ventured to bait me into a good-natured prank call. I was wise enough to realize that I needed a respite from all things real world for an hour or so and my friends were happy to oblige.

I met up with a few friends at a bar and all seemed eerily status quo. As was usually the case, we had casual plans to go out on the town to allow me to bid fond farewells through the appropriate amount of alcohol-induced haze, but nothing too special was planned, nor would I have it any other way. The peace, also as per usual, was nearly shattered by the one and only, Sean Taylor, as he arrived fashionably late. (Everything he does in those glasses is fashionable, by the way.) I kid you not, the first words out of his mouth were "so what time do the festivities start again tomorrow?" Honestly, maybe due to the disreputable source, the comment went right over my head and I considered the question pretty reasonable at the time. Jay was quick to jump in and say that what he meant by that was, "what time do you want to go out tomorrow?" What did momentarily make me feel funny was how quickly Sean agreed with Jay that he meant exactly what Jay said. Nonetheless, my suspicion was fleeting and I soon excused myself for a beat or two. Obviously I wasn't there to see it, but according to reenactments, the looks Jay and Roo gave Sean Taylor were lethal and Sean admitted freely that he "blew it." Truthfully, these recounts of what went down may have afforded more pleasure than the party itself.

Later on that night, I had the chance to jam with Sean Gallagher of our former "Skinny Scrawny Sexy" semi-fame and the Beard who used to make up "The Umbrellas" with me. It was an absolute pleasure to perform with these musicians again. We've always connected musically on a lot of different levels and it was incredible to recapture that magic again for a spell. A great time that I'll surely miss.

The next day, we played basketball at Jay's. I noticed that Coop (a fifty-year-old drunk worthy of a post himself) was even more vociferous and cryptic than usual. As we played ball, he kept telling Jay, in so many words, to hook him up later and let him know the details. Comically enough, I assumed Coop was just kind of looking for a ride later, or a place to grab some weed. I feel bad for thinking this in hindsight, but it was more of a generalization of Coop's character than Jay's. Apparently, Roo had let slip to Coop that a party was going down that night. While Roo succeeded in vowing Coop to secrecy, Coop wanted to attend the bash himself. That would have been a surprise indeed if Coop were amongst the young and semi-sober. Fortunately, Coop never made it to my home and after a laid back dinner with my father, I returned home to find the foyer flooded with with my friends shouting a jarring, but warming, "surprise" as I walked in the door. I was told my face was quite memorable and I don't doubt it. It was beyond awesome to have so many people gathered to say goodbye and I'm grateful to everyone who attended, especially my sister Noelle and Jay, who were instrumental in making it happen.

The party was largely a great time and as the midnight hour approached we made for Downport to draw unsuspecting, yet willing, others into our celebration. I feel like "tales of buzzed" is a little trite, so I'll skip over a lot of that jazz and just mention that Matty and I hit the dance floor as only we can (even a Frank sighting), Sean Taylor gave me open access to his tab, which I only added a lone beer to, because I wanted to make sure I remained cognisant enough for people to remember me fondly. I chuckle at how I kind of minimized such a grand gesture, but it's the thought that counts and I thank him tremendously.

After we left the final bar, a slightly worse for wear (is that the right "wear"?) Sean Taylor wanted to grab some pizza. We went into a pizza place where basketball was being discussed. Believe it or not, I kept my mouth shut having learned my lesson from the subway "What constitutes a sport?" debate. However, after about two minutes of loitering, suddenly a roar of boos erupts in the place in an apparent appeal for a mass exodus of some kind. Lo and behold, Sean Taylor is the target of these misgivings. I admit, I have no idea what he said to excite the mob so, but at least from his body language, it seemed rather uncalled for. We all left (Sean fashionably) in a fit of laughter leaving the hecklers to savor their victory. It was a good-natured exchange, but nonetheless, I'll always wonder what Sean said that night.

As stated, Sean had suckled all he could from the night and wound up snoozing at my place. In a final mystery, I awoke to find Sean Taylor snuggling with my bath towel as the morning sun's rays crept into the window. Sean could not account for why he had the towel and as for me, I realize that somethings are better left unanswered and ran through the laundry.

More to come as I start work on Monday.


Song of the Day: Bird Song-Grateful Dead
Jazz Song of the Day: Bird Gets The Worm-Charlie Parker

Clearly, I'm subconciously in a very avian mood.

Dolls, Dogs, Dutch

I type this post from the confines of a York College writing lab which, due to its lack of windows, causes me to lose track of most any concept of time. With that said, I can say with confidence that my presence here is a much welcomed dose of nostalgia rather than the symbol of fast approaching deadlines of all kinds it was when I was a student here. I took the ride down to do some visiting, only to find that break started today. The day was a solid one nonetheless, as I caught friends intermittently throughout the day, but it has left me with pockets of downtime like this as I wait to meet up with some friends from the wrestling team. We workout together, no big deal.

The move to Pennsylvania is at last complete. With the exception of having to find a local Wal-Mart equivalent and start the actual job that bid me to leave to beach combed land of Long Island's north shore, things have pretty well settled down and I may even find some time to scribe a long overdue opinion piece on Jeremy Lin's rise to superstrardom, which excites me enough for both of us, so don't worry if you're underwhelmed by that news.

As I said, the move is complete, but a great deal of things went down in short succession that led up to this point. I'll do my best to cover the ins and outs without over doing it on the word count front.

I'm living in the historic district of Lancaster, a stone's throw from a lot of things, but most notably, I guess, at this point, the stadium for the Lancaster Barnstormers of Atlantic League fame. I find it incredibly interesting that for a guy who, no offense, never cared very much for baseball (especially after the Chi-Sox won the series) can have a lot of the eras of his life kind of defined by this minor league baseball program. My family used to have season tickets for the Long Island Ducks when I was high school-ish age, Rhapsody was heavily involved with the York Revolution, and now I live close enough to the Barnstormers to have to keep my head on a swivel should a ball ever leave the park.

Anyway, the speed of life has definitely picked up in a positive way. A couple of weeks ago, I took the drive out to PA to check out some perspective domiciles and really did get lucky since the second place I checked out wound up being the place I settled on. However, the day did not start out on such a positive note. I initially checked out a place in Centerville in a more rural area of Lancaster and my hopes were pretty high for the place, initially. The woman had four dogs that she admitted were rambunctious, but small. I admit I'm not exactly a pet person, but I also don't really mind them too much either. I figured even if the dogs bark a bit and crowd your knees some, it wouldn't be that big of a deal. For awhile, I sat inside and spoke with the owner as the dogs played outside. I was a little relieved because she wasn't lying about the dogs being small and they weren't going wild or anything outside. I figured I was, more or less, in the clear and the woman was just being cautious in warning me about the animals. She then opened the door and everything changed. Now, I expected these dogs to bark and jump at my legs until they got to know me and get settled, but I was literally fending off projectile dogs as they launched themselves at my chest. I'm trying to play it cool, but it gets to a point where I'm literally throwing these dogs off me and fighting my natural instincts and clench my fists. I know that a few animal lover friends likely disapprove, but I swear I was under attack.

The woman eventually corrals the beasts and locks them away in another room, where they continue to throw themselves at the door, making a terrible thud-noise. Now, at that point, I'm rattled, I admit. However, this woman's rent was the cheapest to be found and while I had already concluded that my time in this place was going to be MUCH more short-term than I had anticipated, I still didn't want unequivocally rule the place out just yet. Plus, I came all this way so why not at least see the room? The room itself is furnished, has an independent bathroom, nice tile flooring, and even a variety of books to peruse. Sounds pretty solid, right? I neglected to mention that the room is filled with at least 30 different baby dolls of all kinds, surrounding the room. At this point I'm briefly considering that this is an elaborate hoax set up by Sean Taylor to make up for the cash register incident. It was not. At that point my gut feeling was confirmed and I thanked the woman for her time and moved on.

Actually, I'm going to split this time into a few posts to avoid writing a novel and over skimming the time. The next post will concern a surprise party that, thanks to Sean Taylor, almost wasn't.

Song of the Day: Out Of The Blue-George Harrison
Jazz Song of the Day: Orange Was The Color Of Her Dress-Charles Mingus

Dreams As Real As Anything

As much of a tremendous time it was making the trip to Cherry Hill with Sean Taylor and catching up with the illustrious Dennis "Gloves" Madden and his family, I really only have a couple of stories to tell. In short, it was great to meet a couple of Sean's friends and equally great to catch up with the Maddens, who are always very kind when I stroll into town.

At one point, Sean, his friends and I found ourselves in thrift store where I saw this absolutely wild blue blazer that I was moments away from purchasing. In the end, I decided to set it down because the more a thought about it, the less places came to mind where wearing the the thing, as cool as it was, would seem appropriate. This was perhaps a sign of my growing maturity. While we were waiting on line to check out, a television up front was playing the tail end of "The Little Mermaid." While the people with items to check out stood online, I excused myself and raptly watched the last 20 minutes of the movie. This was perhaps a sign of my growing lack of maturity. Also, at one point, Sean's friend asked him to go check the purses for any Vera Bradley bags. Rightfully so, Sean Taylor had no idea what to look for and started reading the tag of each bag, which was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Now, not that I'm proud of this, but due to my sister's appreciation of her style, I knew how Vera stuff looked so I walked over to Sean and essentially said, "don't worry, I got this" and set to work narrowing down the field of purses. This was perhaps a sign of something I'd rather not discuss.

Anyway...

As I said, it was great to see my radio cohort and his family and a couple of his friends I've come to call my own. In a cool collision of worlds, Sean Taylor joined us for a basketball session. After a night of wings and some brews, I headed back to the Madden home to sleep for the night. I was at rest for a couple of hours when I was suddenly being shaken awake by Mr. Madden.

"Tom, Tom, I can't sleep," was all he said for a beat or two.

Now, given the fact that I'd just been roused from my slumber, I was a little unclear as to how I fit into that equation. For a few seconds I genuinely thought he wanted me to read him a story or hum him a lullaby. I doubt the moment was that long, but time sure did seem to slow down as I wondered what the heck he wanted from me.

"I need to sleep on that couch. You can move downstairs," he added after what seemed like an eternity. I pretty much just nodded and gathered my stuff and moved downstairs without really opening my eyes. When I woke up the next morning, Mr. Madden thanked me for moving the night before and we commended ourselves on how quickly and easily we handled the transition. Quite an experience.

Ah, at last it is time for the finale of the post, yet another episode in the Odyssey of Sean Taylor. On our way to Jersey, Sean Taylor and I were deep in conversation and Sean accidentally hopped on the Turnpike heading north. It's a relatively easy mistake to make and we both picked up on it pretty quickly and got off the pike as soon as possible. That's where the fun began.

As we exited, Sean asked the booth operator how to turn around and get on the pike going south. The operator asked where we were headed. It was an innocent enough question and Sean Taylor answered "the Cherry Hill/Philly area" as he handed the woman the money for the toll. The woman then jumped into an elaborate analysis of what exit we should take off the pike and what signs to look for when we did. Sean politely interrupted, saying that we knew all that we just needed to know how to turn around. The woman interrupted Sean, insisting she knew what his question was and again began to, again, explain that we should get off at Exit 4 and look for the Philly pike. Sean, again, interrupted saying he knew all that and just needed to turn ar-- and before Sean could finish his sentence, the woman chimed in again.

Now, until this very experience, I never quite understood why people wrote. sentences. like. this. I mean, I know what the sentence structure is trying to convey, but I never saw the need to express emphasis like that. I don't find it annoying or anything, like the overuse of exclamation points and woorrrddsss typed outtt like thissss!!, but, like I said, I didn't ever have use for it. The lady in the booth changed my life forever.

"Sir! I. un.der.stand. what. it. is. you. are. asking. me."

At that point I was useless and instantly lowered my hat and began giggling uncontrollably out the passenger-side window. from the corner of my eye I saw Sean Taylor raise his hands slightly from the wheel as if to say "what am I supposed to do?" Sean then realized that the woman still had his money and became a very strained form of apologetic. The woman jumped into her monologue for the third time and, at last, finished her 2 minute speech with a simple, "to turn around, follow that sign." A relieved Sean Taylor said thank you and we rolled along in silence for a couple seconds before recounting what had just happened and laughing heartily.

The fact that you knew that both of these people were thinking, "is this person a moron, or what?" at the same time while a line of cars sat restlessly behind them was too funny for me to bear and I won't forget the exchange for a very long time.


Song of the Day: Baby Britain-Elliott Smith

Jazz Song of the Day: Part VII of Keith Jarrett's Testament in Paris Concert.

Second Jazz Song of the Day for the sake of the holiday and my growing musical infatuation with Julian Lage: My Funny Valentine-The New Gary Burton Quartet

A Few Zip Codes To Choose From

There has indeed been a dearth in posts recently in this "Yesternow" medium, but I'm mighty hopeful that this weekend will signify the revitalization of "Yesternow" as it seems as though, at last, some new chapters of life are patiently waiting to be experienced and written down as an afterthought with commentary ripe with hit-or-miss witticisms and attempts at profundity. At long last, I've been employed by a company in Lancaster for which I'll be doing some writing centering around restaurant equipment. Genuinely, the job does seem more interesting than it sounds and I'm excited to get started. I really don't want to make the post about my employment necessarily, but I will say it's a tremendous relief to have some long term plans and to have a rather painstaking interview process payoff with a job offer.

The month-long process was a bit of a hang up because the company (justifiably) never came out and said I had the job until last week, but they were complimentary enough about my writing samples and stayed in touch with me often enough that pursuit of another position locally seemed a bit like a fool's errand seeing as how there was a chance I'd be PA bound what seemed like at the time to be any week now. The best way to describe it is to say that my life was at a yellow light and I didn't know whether to hit the brakes or run right through it.

I certainly stayed productive throughout that time, don't get me wrong, but I couldn't be more pleased that persistence, hard work, and patience has paid off for me. In a way, the time in limbo between the hustle and bustle of college and my current plans was a grind of odd jobs, questions, and self reflection that wasn't always positive.

By no means do I view this position as a finish line of any sort. If anything, I view the position as a starting line for hard work to begin, but it will be a brand of work that will have some direction; a direction that for a little while I was lacking.

Anyway, I start the job on the 27th and in the meantime will be making some sporadic trips to Lancaster to set up shop there, so to speak. Actually, as soon as this Monday (maybe even Sunday), I'll be making the trip to take a drug test. Now, I'm sure I'm not the only one who finds some humor in the fact that I'll be driving four hours there and back to essentially pee in a cup, but obviously I can use the time to become more acclimated with the area.

Fortunately, I think I've already found a place to live for the not exactly short-term, but certainly not long term (medium term?) as a friend of my mother's is looking for a new tenant to take lodge in her garage that she's been renting out for some time. I admit the term "garage" is a little bit of a scare word, seeing as how I've never really seen a garage I'd want to live in, but it has its own finished bathroom and if she's rented it out before that probably means it's nicer than the term implies.

Regardless, I'm not too picky, the lease (if any) is not a long term commitment, and to have something so serendipitous fall into my lap is not something I should squander. Worst case scenario, I have the number of a couple apartment complexes and living there for a spell would be a much easier home base for continued apartment hunting in the area than Long Island. In short, Plan B kind of fell into my lap, and there's a chance Plan B is more of a Plan A than I'm giving it credit for. I suppose I'll know for sure early next week after I hit the bathroom, of course.

The job and living area are no more than a half hour out of York, granted I can't account for traffic, so maybe I'll drop by for a bit on Monday or Tuesday. If not, I'll certainly be around once I actually complete the move. Lancaster, with a train station nearby for NY LI access seems like the perfect place for me to set up camp for the time being. I look forward to being around more actively in PA and areas of NJ and really reconnecting with some of my best friends.

Like I said, the hard work is just beginning, but the green light to take those steps towards my future is as empowering as it is intimidating.

I guess the post kind of did wind up being about my employment...whoops. Look for a post tomorrow about a trip with Sean Taylor and reunion with the Maddens.

Song of the Day: Prince Caspian-Phish
Jazz Song of the Day: Scrapple From The Apple- Paul Motian

Boris Diaw Is Not A Verb, Jerk

When I tell people I'm a writer, most people are justifiably nonplussed. It's a pretty vague term that can apply to writing anything from the most interesting fiction in the world, sports articles, local news stories, plays, directions to how to properly work a Kindle Fire (starting to get pretty good with it, by the way), etc. It's kind of equivalent to saying your a musician without clarifying what instrument you play and what genre in which you dabble. (For some reason I thought of an AfroDJMack of Patchogue when I wrote that sentence, so shout out to that guy, whom I don't know as a person at all.) Anyway, when I do share a bit more about what I write, reactions kind of vary, with most people being politely interested and whatnot, but every now and again, you get people who seem to be intimidated by it.

Now, obviously, no one literally curls into a fetal position at my mention of my less-than-profitable profession, (Usually, it's my top notch physical condition which causes that) but people, at times, seem to tense up a bit and apologize for their grammar, or if they send me something to read and/or edit, they apologize for errors in advance. The point of this post is to tell people to relax. I'm not just talking about myself here, but more in general.

It bugs me to no end when I see people called out on their grammar, punctuation, and even spelling in public forums and things like that. I mean, clearly gratuitous issues in any of those areas is something that an author or speaker should address in order to make sure their thoughts are being conveyed effectively, but the quality of a person's ideas should never be measured by whether or not the correct "your" is used and your knowledge of where commas should be placed. Frankly, I believe anyone who looks at that stuff under a microscope outside of a professional workplace and makes other people feel inferior as a result is a sad person without much to contribute to the actual topic at hand. If they do have actual opinions to add beyond corrections and still shoot people down, then they're insensitive people.

If someone were as critical of my work before heading into college, there's a chance I'd be a semi-unwealthy theatre graduate with a surprisingly unique vocabulary rather than a semi-unwealthy writing graduate with a more explicable unique vocabulary.

In closing, don't be afraid to speak your mind. Share what you want say and judge others based on the content of their ideas not their editing skills.

Song of the Day: I Got Mine-The Black Keys
Jazz Song of the Day: Neptune (The Planet)-The Bad Plus

Hakim!

Hello to one and all and a happy new year, for what that is worth. My apologies for not corresponding too often in recent weeks. The NBA season has begun and I was working on a play for a about a week and a half or so that is finally done with the exception of some proofreading. In the face of the NBA season and commitment to a creative project, Yesternow kind of took a backseat in my writing life. Combine that with having a life beyond the laptop and the holiday season, there wasn't all that much time to scribe recreationally. As I said, the play, and obviously the holidays, are behind us, so hopefully that means some more frequent posts to satiate your curiosity or drive you to block my posts all together. Before I jump into the post, a quick plug for my new NBA twitter @sagercraig where I do my best to make the NBA comedic. I like what I'm doing with it so far, I could afford to post on it more, I admit, but on the positive side I'm not over posting with sub-par things to say. Whatever... if you're into the league, look it up.

Okay, here we go. I suppose no online compendium of life episodes can avoid mentioning the holidays, so just to get it out of the way, they were solid. It was great to give family the things they wanted, and I received a kindle fire which I just yesterday realized I had not properly been shutting down since I've had it. (You need to hold the button down, for anyone with the same problem.) Needless to say, the learning curve has been steep. I received a couple of O's hats to represent what can only be assumed to be the greatest city in all the world, a couple Dave albums (the collection is getting ridiculous), and a new Dallas Mavs shirt which I rocked for opening day and promptly removed and nearly buried following the blow-out loss to the Heat. I'm sure it was coincidence, but I got a real kick out of the fact that I was getting Christmas texts steadily all day until about the second quarter of the Mavs game when they stopped almost entirely. Only Brett ventured a mid-game text and apologized for the Mavs poor play that afternoon. Surely all of my friends were aware that this was a sensitive time. By the way, the only reason I didn't dispose of the Mavs shirt is because I realized that I was wearing my turtle slippers that I can only imagine were hexed in some way by the one who gave them. I would have ditched the slippers, but my grandmother was raving about them, so I was stuck between a rock and snugly place. Needless to say, I've resolved never to where those slippers during a Mavs game again.

The real reason for this post is to celebrate the return of Alex Wong to Long Island and the rest of the tri-state area. Wong has been away catering to the business end of the pronghorn antelope in Arizona, and it was my first time seeing one of my best friends since maybe last spring, if that. I figure if I can write a poem for Sean Taylor, I can certainly dedicate a blog post to Alex Wong. (A quick tangent: I almost regret writing Sean Taylor's poem because I feel like every single time I see him I can add something new and just as important to the piece that's obviously not in it now. I feel like an ode to Sean Taylor should be written with my dying breaths to ensure that I encompass everything that is the one and only. Sean Taylor's poem, when complete, would be an epic. My goal is to make him the Odysseus of the 21st century.)

Wong got home a bit before Christmas and the evening after he got in I hopped over to see him. It was great to see him, obviously. I loved hearing him talk about his work and what he's involved in Arizona. There's not much in this world I enjoy more than listening to people talk about getting involved with something they truly dig. The way their face lights up and they kind of lose themselves in life's big picture for a while. It's something that I find endlessly inspiring and I'm happy and proud that he seems to be finding that for himself. One of the last things he said to me that night before everyone else popped over to say hello was, "I know this isn't a party, people are just stopping by for a while. I'm not going to get crazy or anything." Three hours later, Wong was passed out in the middle of his basement and while Jay and I hoisted him to a mattress, he made Toad spin out impressions from Mario Kart 64. Indeed, Wong was home.

Over the next couple of days, we hung out when he was much more... present and it was a solid time.

The day after Christmas, I set out for a local coffee shop to get to know my new kindle. As I was en route, I got a call from Wong asking if I wanted to go to the mall with him to get his iPod fixed. As it turns out, the initial O's hats I got were a bit too small for me (which is surprising, because you'd think that manufactures would take into account that fans of all things Maryland have some of the most swelled heads I've ever seen), so I had to make the trek to the mall myself. With that said, I wasn't exactly pumped to go to the mall the day after Christmas, passing up hot cocoa and kindle experimentation, but for Wong and his brief visit, it's worth it.

As expected, the mall was an absolute zoo with the only store that wasn't packed to the gills being the ironically titled "Christmas In New York" shop. The Apple store was perhaps the worst crowded stop in the place and Wong was informed after a bit of a wait that he would not be able to get his pod fixed without an appointment. We were both disappointed and Wong considered grabbing a baseball bat from Dick's and coming back to see if any openings had spontaneously sprung up. Fortunately I still had my hats to exchange, so the trip was not for naught. I spent some time in Lids looking for a basketball hat and Wong sought a tennis hat that didn't look too "golf". Relative to nothing, but I didn't find a hat because I'm actually not too big of a fan of the snapback craze and those were the only NBA hats they were selling. Bummer, but two "bird hats" in hand are better than one bird and a snapback. (For the record, I made myself laugh pretty hard on that one.) Before Wong and I hit the trail, we stopped for some lunch in the food court and speaking of birds, we had to scavenge quite a bit to grab a table. As we were munching, we caught sight of our good friend Matty and his friend, Natalie. Matty warmly introduced us and I went to shake her hand, she pointed out that I had just been eating french fries and declined the gesture. After seeing that Wong didn't venture much of a formal greeting. Moments later, the duo departed and we carried about our shopping experiences. I'm not sure the awkwardness of this episode comes across in type, but take my word for this one. What a time.

This holiday season, the kindle fire appeared to be the present of choice as Jay and Sean Taylor picked up fires of their own and seem to enjoy feeling them out. Jay uses his to keep us ever abreast of the fantasy basketball score; a service for which I'm very grateful. Our preoccupation with the fantasy league was never more apparent than when I was trying to carry on separate conversations at once; one concerning Adam's new band we were going to see that night and the other concerning the then flailing Phoenix Suns. In a moment of utter confusion and confidence, I loudly exclaimed that I was excited to see Adam's new group, Hakim Warrick. I had to take a few seconds to recover my bearings. Jay was tickled to no end and we've been joking about it ever since. Later that night, we did in fact go see Adam's group, Hollywood Drive By (easily mixed up with Warrick) and it was a good time to hear new tunes and see musicians at work.

One of the bands that went on before HDB had a song centered-around/inspired by T.S. Eliot's "Love Song of J.A.P." I, of course, sober as a bird, but forgetting my surroundings screamed like a twelve year-old girl at a Bieber concert (albeit not as high-pitched). I'm pretty sure Wong and Jay physically took a big step away from me at that point and needless to say, no one even cared about the reference. Jay was again entertained by my attempt to explain the poem to the crowd in ten seconds or less. Rock on!

Another return was noteworthy this holiday season as Ben Kraus returned to the open mic of the Velvet Lounge. Everyone who knew who he was was pumped to see him come back and play some tunes. There was definitely an energy in the room and even though we were the last people to play that night at just past 1am, it was one of the coolest jams I've been a part of there in a long, long time. There was a lot of talent on the stage and it really seemed to click. Jay's cousin, Max, was so moved by the performance that he took the time to congratulate Jay on his sound with a handshake after each of our five numbers. That had me chuckling to no end, to be honest. Wong also expressed his appreciation and in a tribute to the great Edwina, chanted a "Bogdan on the horn" chant that sadly no one really joined him on. A night and experience that was anything but bland.

Then came the much debated and looked forward to New Year's Eve. We all met up in Astoria before going our separate ways, but not without a memory worth cherishing for the rest of my life that will undoubtedly find form its own stanza in the ever under construction poem of Sean Taylor. Before we got in to Astoria to meet at Ben and Jake's, Sean Taylor wanted to make a few shopping stops, which I was certainly okay with because he was willing to do the favor of driving us all in. We made a stop at Roosevelt Field Mall (a first for me, believe it or not). Lenny, Wong, Jay, and I killed some time around the mall while Sean did some suit shopping. Jay and I saw this AWESOME Joker basketball jersey, which I will own one do (a la Mike Myers: Oh yes, it will be mine.) and to my shock, a basketball signed by Kevin Garnett is worth more than a ball signed by Bill Russell. I was absolutely blown away by that.

Anyway, having long since eclipsed the 30 minute time limit he set for himself to return to find us, The four of us went off to search for the allusive Sean Taylor. After a stretch, we found him and I took it upon myself not to rush him and let him shop at his own pace, but I also took it upon myself not to let him out of my sight. After a while, Sean had gathered his New Year's suit and we waited about 15 minutes to get to the head of the line at the cash register. That's when the trouble started. Apparently the woman helping Sean had next to no idea how to work the register and check inventory for the clothes Sean was looking to purchase. Innocently enough, Sean attempted to walk the woman through the process, but the process was anything but smooth. After a literal half hour at the only register open in Macy's Sean looked like a mixture of rage and depression. Jay was annoyed, Wong and I were laughing hysterically (especially me, I admit. I was not a very supportive friend in that moment and feel bad even as I type this.), and Lenny was waiting the most patiently out of all of us. Wong and I offered to countdown the new year with those behind him in line should it come to that. At one point, the gentlemen right behind Sean Taylor left the line to find another register, only to return minutes later to the end of the line with no further progress made taking care of Sean Taylor's needs. I was getting a kick out of people going from nonchalantly standing, to texting with perturbed body language, to grumbling amongst themselves, to a look of defeat similar to Sean's.

In addition, on a counter nearby, someone had left 26 cents unattended. Wong and I watched as person after person stopped and examined the change, eventually to determine the impish sum was not worth snatching. Wong and I considered adding change to the pile until it was taken and we were convinced that between Sean Taylor being stuck in no-man's- land and this change enticing cheap people to theft, we were on some sort of hidden camera show. No such luck as after the half hour expired an fuming Sean Taylor left the store with only a vest. Sean was upset at the situation and our handling of it and was justifiably not in a social mood. One of the quieter Astoria drives to say the least. However, Sean did pick up some hot new sneakers and by the time we got to Astoria, the tension was pretty much quelled.

The night itself was a lot of fun. We saw some good friends and made some new ones. I kind of took it upon myself to look out for some friends, which I only mention to account for my lack of true stories to tell. To be sure, keeping an eye on Wong and others did have it's memories that I'll never forget, but I wouldn't share those over the internet. I did get one rave review on my Orioles hat from a birdland-loving cat. The bouncer and I at this one bar established a borderline friendship out of nowhere stemming from him calling me a gentlemen. (I imagine my mother would be proud too) I a saw a girl with heels far too high slip and fall flat on her rump out of nowhere, Kathy Griffin took off her top on national television, and as I said, I saw some friends, some of which I hadn't seen for a long time. I can't complain about it at all. I was happy to ring in the new year with those I care about, and I wish you all well in 2012.

The only story of that night worth its own paragraph has to do with an apartment party Sean Taylor led us to. The host of the party had actually read my poem about Sean I mentioned earlier and was quite a fan and happy to meet me. Likely the only time my reputation preceded itself. (At least my reputation as a writer) One of the other hosts of the party went about crushing ice the wrong way and wound up spilling cubes all over the floor. As I eluded to earlier, I was kind of in a helpful mood that night and took it upon myself to sweep up and clean his mess. The plus side of that is every person who saw what happened says to themselves, "what a nice guy that stranger is." Everyone who didn't see what happened, unfortunately, says to themselves, "who invited that jerk who spilled all the damn ice on the floor." Fortunately, the host was pretty gracious and did his best to inform the masses that the spill was not my fault and by the end of the night as we pulled Wong out of the room, I think my name was clear.

Like I said, good times with good friends and nothing but positive wishes to you and yours in the new year. Having Wong back was a really special time for all of us and I know I speak for everyone when I say we can't wait to have him back again.

Song of the Day: The Lying Lies and Dirty Secrets of Ms. Erica Court-Coheed and Cambria

Jazz Song of the Day: Peacemaker-Billy Harper