I warn you, I wax nostalgic.

There are those nights, and tonight is most definitely one of them, where it’s all I can do to sleep… with this dusty, nostalgic mind finding new life, triggered by an unknown note in a passing song. Tonight I find myself in the most desperate need of the embrace of a more northern state. I’m not quite sure what did it, I was listening to a few songs… and suddenly I was transported to a wonky cobblestone road outside of Pheonixville in Tommy’s dilapidated minivan, singing “Go your own way, I’ll be with you. Make mistakes and I’ll forgive you. Home is waiting here for you when you return.”

While I spent much of my life in Delaware, I spent an almost equal amount traveling the back roads of Pennsylvania. I’ve gone on before about those crisp fall nights, heading back from seeing some local bands, in the backseat of my friends car. With my girlfriend’s head on my chest, I’d lay my head on the window feeling the bumps of the road, look up at the stars and breath maybe as easily as one ever did. I had the sense to tell myself to savor the moment. I did. It was one of those moments where it felt as if everything was in it’s place. I could count the number of such memorable moments since on one hand… and near every single one of them took place on fall nights in Pennsylvania.

There were nights in Delaware, walking cobblestone roads down to the river, arm in arm, breathing ghosts with my grey knit cap and peacoat… hearing the sounds of the water against the wall, feeling the weight of age fall off the buildings, heavying the impact of one’s chest and giving the town that ethereal glow which only seems to show up in memories.

More Pennsylvania nights, breaking curfew on secret dates, walking the trail behind campus… sneaking cigarettes and chasing around the soccer fields, gathering dew with every step and pretending that we weren’t thinking everything we were thinking, with her knowing glances in auburn eyes giving everything away…

Even more Pennsylvania nights. Many more over… where the magic of memory on soft heart forgets any seeming slights and magnifies the beauty of the rest on a scale too large for measure.

Another night, by the mailbox outside of my house, fumbling through first kisses. I made a promise that I’d get better. I’m not quite sure I did, but there’s still plenty of time for practice.

Remembered songs remind of different times, evoke strong memories. Most of DCFC reminds me of a summer trip to Hilton Head Island. My friend Nick, my brother and I all drove down to use up some of his family’s vacation time with a resort. It was in the winter, though in a rather unseasonably warm period, so rooms were open and the crowds were thin. Exactly how we like it. We were, and remain, well… us. Even in high school, with a chance at absolute freedom, we were interested more in quietly existing on our own than any kind of ‘spring break’ mentality. We were, and continue to be, quite insular. We played shuffleboard, we read books, we walked along the beaches in blue jeans and various northeast-indie-kid hoodies (though Nick in the waxed cotton jacket that his father got him from the Marlboro catalog, which he wore everywhere that year) inspecting what strange shelled creatures we came upon and laughed at notions of the chance of bedding the staff. It was a long drive down from Delaware, and as I didn’t yet have much experience behind the wheel, Nick drove the whole way. I, as I was wont to do, manned the stereo. We must have played through the entire Death Cab for Cutie discography a half dozen times.

There are specific songs, though, in their discography which remind me of specific times. The first time I every heard them was driving back from an early band practice for a band which never ended up existing. The other guitar player put ‘The Photo Album’ in and told me, as a matter of factly, that I must hear these lyrics. Then he played ‘Styrofoam Plates.’ Up to this point, I had mostly listened to Oldies 98.1 with my father. I didn’t mind it. I enjoyed it, actually. I went to public school for a few years and was well versed in all that Q102 had to offer. Jay Z’s Hard Knock Life (Ghetto Anthem) played several thousand times a day around that time. But I then, as I do now, preferred Roy Orbison. Here, however, was something different. Something for us.

A Movie Script Ending. I have a thing for music videos. Well, let me restate that. I have a thing for this specific music video… for this video and for Further Seems Forever’s ‘Snowbirds and Townies’ video. It follows a couple through the day of an inevitable goodbye. While at that point I had no love, I was in love with the idea. I wanted to be that guy. Masochistic? Surely. That becomes a theme. I went as far as to buy the closest copy to the New Balance’s the guy was wearing. Why did I want to emulate such a sad sack? I don’t know, I guess even if I didn’t acknowledge it at the time, I knew that for something to be so sad it had to have at first been that good. Nobody cries for nothing. I had had my share of tearful goodbyes at this point, though honestly I couldn’t tell you if I was a broken-hearted boy or if I just assumed the role. That was a lot of high school, not much of it was doing what I felt like doing, but more of what I felt I was supposed to do. Though the song and video only somewhat relate, I loved the video from the first time I saw it. It wouldn’t hit home until years later when tearful goodbyes started to become an actuality and not simply a romanticized idea.

Anna Stern was an adorable psuedo-punk/indie girl from Pittsburgh. The build up of the whole year leading to a tearful airport good-bye with ‘Lack of Color’ low in the background… completely heartbreaking. Yes, I’m talking about ‘The OC’… Angsty teenage television aside, it stays one of my favorites because it’s ‘really bursting at the seams’ with encouragement. My friends used to tell me I have what they called ‘injured bird’ syndrome. I fall in love with girls who need love more than most. For this reason, this is my theme song of sorts.

I could go on, but I think I should stop it here. Perhaps next will be The Promise Ring or Mineral. I don’t think I’m quite up to the task of covering Clarity just yet.

“Why love if losing hurts so much? I have no answers any more, only the life I have lived. Twice in that life I’ve been given the choice: as a boy and as a man. The boy chose safety, the man chooses suffering. The pain now is part of the happiness then. That’s the deal.”

I like it most when I find people who dedicate time to learning any one single task to a great degree. Me? I’ve spent a great deal of time lately on server-side javascript. Before that, I had spent a great deal of time on PHP. Before that it was the art of electronics and analog recording equipment. Music composition, then preceded by soccer.

I miss soccer the most, I think. I’m not sure if it was the pressures of being a goalie, the team comradery or the coaching and plan of attack. I first thought that it was the comradery , but I quickly realized that I really don’t enjoy the company of most people anymore so that was squashed. I thought about the pressure next. I did enjoy that. The pressure of being the last line of defense brings out that extra bit of something inside… there were times when I wasn’t quite sure why I was doing what I was doing, but I knew that I had to follow through on it. Instincts, I suppose. With the exception of the few standouts, most college level players were pretty easy to figure out. There are spots and situations that are just too good to pass up. Once you recognize those, it’s just reflexes and staying on your angles. As much as I enjoyed it, though, I don’t think it’s that. I could easily join up on a Men’s league, but I don’t. I’m not quite sure what it was. I’ll be thinking about that for a while.

Anyways, I stopped in on the good man yesterday to finish up the order on my custom made shirt. Did I mention I was having a shirt made? I think I did. I am.

It may seem absurd at first… but it’s not quite. Walking in and picking the fabric, the collar, the cut, the cuffs, the pocket, the placket… that’s something I’ve never done before. I’ve known girl’s to swoon at simply getting the right color dress. I can’t imagine what undulating motions may follow the recognition of the sheer enormity of choice that they actually have at their disposal.

I got measured up properly as well. It’s from this that I got a few bits of information. Mainly, that I need a 14.5″ neck and that my right arm is an inch longer than my left arm. I had no idea. The only possible explanation for that would be my past as a travelling archeologist. I told Elsa not to cross the seal… (actually, i’ve learned that it’s quite common and that the reason is likely baseball/soccer. I was groomed for pitching until high school and routinely threw my should sore getting the ball up field.)

Anyways, a club collared, french cuff, white heritage cotton oxford is on it’s way.

I can unabashedly now confess to being quite interested in how I present myself. Well, I always was, I suppose… but as one changes so do the rules. I am through Alan Flusser’s “Style & the Man” and I am glad to say that I enjoyed it. Rules. There are rules, Sparky. After reading, I can, with confidence, say that the J.Press suit which I was so quick to buy is simply a bit too big in the shoulders. I’ve become extremely aware of the fit of the shoulders as of late. It’s quite easy to tell a poorly fit suit by the shoulders. For me? 36R’s are tight in the chest, 38R’s are too loose in the shoulders… but we’ll figure this out.

Anyways, it was a rough weekend… the extreme’s slipped a little too extreme. I’m going to be taking it easy for a bit… a little temperance never hurt anyone. Time to put a lecture on and fall asleep.

For more daily ish:

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“…for a moment I thought I loved her. But I am slow-thinking and full of interior rules that act as brakes on my desires,”

Gatsby. Not so great. (Thrift Shop Couture)

Pennies

Kentucky Derby Party Prep

Perchance

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“A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.”

It would have been my brother’s birthday.
Just a few days ago, were he still around, the day would not have sagged under such melancholy.
I did everything I would expect of myself, everything which enables one to live with these things, and not much more.
I slept through a large part of it. Sleep, it seems has always been my best tonic. In such times, you’ll likely find me in bed. I don’t understand those who like to go out and ignore or drown these feelings in excess. I don’t want to ignore it, but I don’t much like to sit around pensive and stew either. I just like to recognize and exist with as little effort.
I thought about him and tried to keep it brief. I desperately invented distractions throughout the day. It feels embarrassingly selfish, but it gets you through.. They’re good feelings to have. They’re important. They are so very much a part of you. Dwelling on them does little good, but exorcising them does greater damage. You exist through it, recognizing it, half-embarrassed at it’s recognition. So I got out of the house and after short recognition and every breath seemed to surrender: “so shorten I the stature of my soul.”

She stepped outside into the morning air
To watch the cars go by and let the sun dry her hair
I wanted to tell her how beautiful she was
But I just stared

Another weekend, another collection of second-hand goods. Some natural brogues in desperate need of oil and polish, a “pierre cardin couture” three piece suit (not sure of it’s quality but it’s heavy… not getting much florida use),  a collection of tall glasses made for enjoying (not simply consuming) a good malt beverage, a few scotch glasses, a high quality leather belt, a low quality ribbon belt, a nice pair of white pants for the summer and the favorite find of the day… an old Chipp oxford in perfect condition which fits like a glove.

So, there was a tornado down here… wasn’t there? After something as tragic as what has happened in Japan, it’s impossible to complain about anything. Our power was out for the better part of a day. That’s about it. The weather was rough… but this tiny ship was tough.

As power was out, we were close to missing the Penguins game. This would have been the first game I’ve missed all year… so… we picked up some tickets online and drove to it. It was luck beyond luck that they just so happened to be playing the Lightning. We lost. The most pitiful power play I have ever seen and… well… Letang. What can I even say? Bad decision after bad decision. I was so frustrated that I accidentally texted my landlord, putting forth my intent to punch a certain unnamed defensman in the neck, should I get a chance.

There are PBS stations going down left and right around here… Meanwhile, we’re moving video at the station to the Amazon cloud. I’m pretty pumped. Yes, I’m a nerd.

Surely there is more to write, but truthfully… my mind has gone blank. Until later,

Testing twitter plugin…

“I must write you a line or two and see if that will assist in dismissing you from my Mind for ever so short a time.”

So here I am, below Palm trees so straight and tall.

I’m sitting by the pool. Sitting in one one those canvas chairs. They make those plastic chairs look like… well… not a chair at all. More like some sort of summer stress point torture device. It’s nights like this where I imagine smoking would be enjoyable. Not for me though. When you’ve lost as many loved ones to cancer as I have, it’d would almost be a slap in their face. I put my inner James Dean to bed. “You see, we’re part of the few who agree. Yeah, he lived fast… but he died. Me? I’m gonna live forever.”

My vice of choice? 1 Part Irish Whiskey to 3 Parts Ginger Ale.

It’s quite a night out. There’s a warm breeze coming in off of the bay, or it may be to the bay.  I’m not quite sure. I might have it roundabout. Either way, it’s nice. Nice enough for a swim, actually. When we were younger, jumping into a pool was a luxury that only came once in a great while, so when we got the chance we took it. We would be in there for hours, shivering cold. To jump in, as I do now, for ten minutes just to laze about never occurred to us.

It’s been a good couple of months. Too good. Suspiciously good. I’ve got my eye on you. You’re suspect. I sit out here at night, under the stars, and can’t help but feel guilty. Do I deserve this? Nope… but I’ll take it.

I’ve been hitting the vintage shops hard lately. There’s been a good half dozen paintings procured, as well as odd sports coats and random knicknacks. I’ve got a ship in a bottle on my mind. There’s a four post bed where my mattress once laid on the ground and eyes are open for a solid desk and dresser.

Today’s finds? A leather box for my shoe polish (ridiculous? nope.) and a nice wooden box with a felted interior for watches, glasses, etc. with a pretty boss looking eagle atop. A few wooden carvings of a salty old sea captain or two and a model ship. The grand prize? A nicely framed oil canvas painting of an old ship breaching waves. Yes, the nautical theme is in full blast. This week, at least. Last week it was vintage american sports. The week before? Small game hunting. Yeah.

Dear friend’s at Lost in Drawers dropped a picture or two of yours truly in their post yesterday. They are some swell bloggers, noble people and good champions of the heart. Read!

I’m doing a bit of work with a college friend, Twig. The lucky bastard lives across the universe, over in dear old Blighty. He does comics, which is brilliant because I’ve always like comics. I didn’t love them… actually I only owned a very small collection of X-men comics with the Gambit back story… but I’m a fan. I’m sure I’ll post links sooner or later, but it seems to be on the schedule for a May 2nd start.

In other news? Well, there isn’t much other news. I did pick up a solid pair of Allen Edmonds for roughly 1/2oth of retail. I did get my seersucker suit finished. I did pick up a Saint James shirt and I did drink a second tall glass of Jameson&Ginger. A third? Well, surely I couldn’t… No? Yes? Oh, fine then, I will.