Lowell Celebrates Kerouac 2011

We stopped at the "Historic Trolley Pizzeria" on our way into Lowell Friday afternoon and then drove straight to Jack's grave.  We found it pretty easy it being our 3rd trip there.   

Me bringing a rose for Jack's grave from a bouquet Rick had brought me last week.  

An assortment of offerings - the shots, harmonica, a couple of beers, my rose, Rick's book, and the single malt 16 year old whiskey we brought for our toast.

I read the 242nd Chorus from Mexico City Blues.     

After leaving the grave we checked into our hotel - not an easy feat.  It was so absurd I seriously thought we could be on candid camera or something, but it gave us a chance to talk to the other people in line and met a couple in town for the festival from Bordeaux, France and a professor from Quebec with several students.  We then walked over to Ricardo's, getting lost en route and finding the prof and his students wandering as well.  We all found it a few minutes later and had a beer, talked with Mike, listened to a NY street poet named Steve Dalachinsky whom I really liked.  Then this Jack impersonator told a little story about the first time he met Ken Kesey - not a pretty story.  :-)  

This is "Jack" hanging out at Ricardo's - the first pub on our tour.

We stopped at Cappy's Copper Kettle second where we met a pretty interesting local dude playing pool.  He told us he was a fighter - a kick boxer I think - and told Rick he looked like Kevin Nash who apparently is a wrestler.  It's very ironic that Rick is probably the only person in the bar other than this guy who would have a clue as to who Kevin Nash was.  After seeing a photo of Kevin Nash I must say I don't see the resemblance - 6 ft 7 - 300 pounds of solid muscle would be the first difference I notice.  

Next we went on to Major's Pub.  Rick had been posting on his Kerouac-obsessed blog all week that anyone who came up to him and said Rumplestiltskin would get a free book.  While Rick was outside taking photos I grabbed a table and invited some other folks to sit with us.  I got talking to Melissa, Todd and Nancy and then Rick came and joined us.  As we talked, Melissa said - hey, are you that guy with the blog?  I said, what's the magic word and she nailed it!  Rick  had been carrying a couple of books around so true to his pledge, gave her a signed copy.  It turns out she'd come across his blog when googling a Kerouac quote and saw his posts.  Her partner Todd was the Kerouac lecturer for Saturday which turned out to be very interesting.  

The last pub was The Worthen House - the same place we ended last year with all the antique belt driven fans.  As we were going in, the woman in front of us was telling the guy collecting $5 cover charge that she hadn't brought enough cash with her so I paid her way in.  We hung out and listened to Reverend JJ - a pretty good solo guitar and harmonica player and then a rather loud and unique band afterwards.  Walked back to our room about 11:30 I guess.

We had breakfast at the hotel and walked over to Kerouac Park for the bus tour just in time to hear more poetry by Dalachinsky and then a little talk and some flute tunes by Daivd Amram.  

Here's a photo of Steve Dalachinsky from Saturday at Kerouac Park.  

David Amram

People listening at Kerouac Park

We then boarded the bus and went to Jack's place of birth - 9 Lupine Street in Lowell.

Here's Roger Brunelle who grew up in Lowell at the same time that Kerouac lived there.  He never met Jack which he regrets - says Jack died before he was awakened.

We also went to the Grotto of Our Lady of Lourdes, stopped at the Merrimack River, a couple of schools where Jack attended, and the Lowell Library where they say Jack still holds a record for having checked out the most books, among other places.  We broke off the tour when they headed to some locations we'd toured last year and went to a little Mexican restaurant for a quick bite before heading to the Lowell Center for Todd's lecture.  

We had to leave right after he finished so that we could run back to the hotel and get poetry for the open mike back at The Worthen House.  Rick had brought a poem he'd written about being at City Light Bookstore in San Francisco.  I had my moleskine  but none of the poems I had in there were really speaking to me so I decided not to read.  I really wanted some of the more recent poems I'd posted to dVerse poetry.   

Rick reading at open mike upstairs at The Worthen House

We had planned to go the the Centralville Social Club and listen to music at 8 but we were pretty beat (so to speak) at this point and decided to go grab some dinner at a cool pub we'd walked by earlier called The Old Court.  After a nice dinner we knew the music was a no go and decided we'd be redeemed if we went back to the hotel and streamed Howl from Netflix.  Loved the movie - great dialogue.  

When we got up on Sunday we decided to go down to Concord, MA to Sleepy Hollow Cemetery where Henry David Thoreau, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Louisa May Alcott, and Ralph Waldo Emerson are all buried.  

Entrance to Author's Ridge

Me in front of Louisa May Alcott's grave.

Here's Henry David Thoreau's tombstone - very simple, as it should be.  There's a much larger family marker next to his stone.

Rick at Thoreau's grave.  He read an excerpt from Civil Disobedience.  

Here's me at Nathaniel Hawthorne's grave.

And here's Rick at Ralph Waldo Emerson's grave.  I read the poem, The Apology.

The Apology

Think me not unkind and rude,

That I walk alone in grove and glen;

I go to the god of the wood

To fetch his word to men.

Tax not my sloth that I

Fold my arms beside the brook;

Each cloud that floated in the sky

Writes a letter in my book.

Chide me not, laborious band,

For the idle flowers I brought;

Every aster in my hand

Goes home loaded with a thought.

There was never mystery,

But 'tis figured in the flowers,

Was never secret history,

But birds tell it in the bowers.

One harvest from thy field

Homeward brought the oxen strong;

A second crop thine acres yield,

Which I gather in a song.

All in all, a fun and interesting weekend.  We had a nice drive home during which I stopped at Starbucks for a caffeinated mocha frapacinno, so here it is 2:00 a.m. and I'm still wide awake and putting my blog together.  I'll be glad tomorrow - and when I look back in 10 years - that I did.  

Childhood Memory

Chaos reigns as it often does when he’s around

Yet flight is rejected

Only with complete presence can you detect the landmines before they explode

He crafts them carefully so you almost believe you put them there yourself

Complaints of a hard day of work and coming home to no dinner on the table

He bats the covered plate off the table and it crashes against the wall

The white of the eggs stick guiltily to the window

While the yoke breaks and makes a dramatic descent down the glass

Landing with silent thunder on top of the pink ham and scattered home fries

As my brothers and I run laughing hysterically from the room

Knowing our own peril, we can’t help but point out,

He is of course, right

                        Dinner is not on the table.

This poem contributed to dVersePoets Open Link Night Week 12

dVerse dSires

I was headed to my pottery wheel when I remembered it was dVerse poetry night

Oh no!  What am I to do? 

Poetry or Pottery?

I guess I could write an ode to my pottery

If I knew what an ode consisted of

A haiku perhaps

But I was already well beyond all syllabic limitation

I gaze at the glaze

The evil red chun creates

Havoc wherever it goes

Clay desires my hands

Oozing mud through my fingers

What shall I become

Pulling it upwards

Sensuous shaping into

A tulip vase p’haps? 

The best I can do in a pinch. 

Off to play with mud. 

Will check out some poetry postings in a bit. 

Love to all.

This poem written
for and contributed to
dVersePoets Open Link Night  Week 11

I love flowers

They greeted her with smiling faces

With all their prickly thorns and petals of love

She went about her evening chores

While the flowers sang their music



short and sweet
This poem contributed to
dVersePoets Open Link Week #10

Test The Glaze Firing

The witness cones on the far left are from the top shelf.  They are Cones 4, 5, and 6 and the two single ones are Cones 5.  Cones in the middle are also 4, 5, and 6.  You can see the 4 bent completely and the 5 just a little.  The cones on the right are all from the bottom shelf - again 4, 5, and 6, and the single one is a 5. But as you can see none of them really bent.   

These two pieces are both done in Celadon Froth.  There was no blistering but I need to make sure I hold it in the glaze long enough to get it thick.  You can see the blue is where it was double dipped and the brown is just a single dip.

Again, Celadon Froth - this was on the bottom shelf which only got to about Cone 4 but it came out nicely.  Even the Celadon Froth pieces on the top shelf came out fine - no blisters.  A great glaze!

This is red chun but it came out mostly grayish.  When not layered with other glazes it did not blister.  These were on the top shelf so it got hot enough and the glaze was plenty thick enough.  So maybe it got too hot or maybe it was too thick.  Gotta try to figure this one out because I love red chun when it works!

This is cappucino with the rim dipped in red chun.  This was on the top shelf and apparently got too hot because it's all blistered.  I think it's the cappucino that blistered because the pieces that were just done in chun and were on the top shelf didn't blister.

Another blistered cappucino and red chun.

Mocked

Our eyes met across the crowded room

By the end of the look

We knew we’d be spending the night together

By the end of the night

We knew we’d be spending our lives together

The tumor laughed at our plans

Mocked our passion

Instead of ripping you from my arms

Leaving me sobbing and beaten

It took you bit by bit

Until in the end

Your death was my relief

And it was guilt that crushed me

And now I sit alone on our porch

The one you built for us to grow old upon

A bird call startles me out of my reverie

No doubt a mockingbird.

This poem contributed to
dVersePoets Open Link Week #9

Crystal

They gave me the name before it was all the rage

A Crystal, mixed amongst  the more traditional Linda, Donald, William and Thomas of my siblings

What was its meaning

From what flight of fancy did it derive

I’m sure I was told but it wasn’t a definite thing

The story given, a little vague

Eyes that sparkled,

Something about a soul and the universe

A much better answer than

Your father’s great aunt

Though that gives you good strong roots

This leaves you hanging, gives you wings.

Amazingly I was 50 before a person gave me a crystal

A rough unpolished rock with multiple offshoots

Multi faceted in the truest sense of the word

He’d brought the crystal with him from his homeland

Not sure why until that moment he presented it to me

Wrapped in a silken Thai cloth

His Buddhism training and the time he spent as a monk

Taught him to trust his instincts

He talked about “old friends” as in previous lifetimes

In his broken English,

Trying to make me understand

The connection he felt between us

We’d known each other only a month

But we’d been Old Friends since the day we’d met

I’d felt it too; not in a romantic way

Though he was handsome and virile

But as two who had shared a life

Perhaps siblings or brothers in arms

He told me he meditated about it

Its energy, beauty and mystery

And it started me thinking

Crystal – multi faceted with many rough offshoots

Is that who I am?

It took my Old Friend and 50 years

This poem contributed to
dVersePoets Open Link Week #8 

The Same Bird

A plethora of little gray birds of assorted species

Labeled by man for their various calls, beaks, and plumage

Flitter back and forth to the seeds I’ve laid out

There’s no fear or misunderstandings between them

They know they’re all the same bird


This poem contributed to
dVersePoets Open Link Night #7

Endings and beginnings

Rick playing at Nordica Auditorium - University of Maine, Farmington, 2010

It’s extremely calm out tonight.  We’re expecting Hurricane Irene (my sweet, amazing mother’s middle name was Irene and her birthday would have been yesterday.  Much love to you, mother.)  The hurricane’s been reported up the east coast, yada yada. . .  but tonight you could see a few stars and after battening down the hatches I was drawn outside.

I was sitting out on our lakeside deck, listening to the loons and thinking about the summer we seem to be quickly leaving behind.  I was brought back to the night Rick and I spent at Cobscook Bay State Park in Downeast Maine back in July.  We had arrived mid afternoon and set up the camper fairly easily though it was our very first outing without the camper experts from The NitPickers Band.  We looked at the map of the park and decided to go for a hike.  Nice shady trail with interesting sites described in the park map.  Got to the top where there were vistas of what I’m guessing were Canadian seas.  Saw a couple of kayakers; the water looked pretty calm.  Note to self: I think Rick and I would have been fine in them without a guide had we brought the kayaks.   

We hiked back to camp and made a dinner of Thai noodles w/chicken and a bottle of Clos du Bois.  We dined outside at the picnic table and later Rick pulled out his guitar and played and sang sweetly . . . heartbreakingly . . .  Townes Van Zandt, Kevin Welch, his own originals.  It was one of those perfect summer nights.  There’s no other place I would have wanted to be.  I couldn’t stop smiling all night long, even in my sleep, I’m sure. 

Anyway, here I am sitting out on our deck reflecting how that had probably been my favorite night of the summer. I noticed I’d run out of wine so went inside to make a drink of some sort (when I refilled the liquor cabinet after having the new floor installed (see previous post) I put all the almost empty bottles of liquor on the top shelf with the intention of using those up before hitting the lower shelves.) 

When I got inside I heard Rick upstairs playing the guitar!  Baby!! I was just thinking about you doing exactly that!! . . . Come on outside on the deck and keep doing what you’re doing. . . and he did.  J    I found the makings of White Russians on the top shelf.  Made up a shaker; offered some to Rick who declined after having drank the other half of our bottle of wine.  This was one of those nights where a half a bottle of wine equaled just getting started for me  . . . with help from the caffeinated soda I’d had earlier. 

It struck me that this Rick, playing the guitar on this night, was the Rick who wrote those blogs.  The one who might quote Alexander Graham Bell saying “when one door closes, another door opens” or more likely a Kerouac quote that conveys the same message. 

Anyway, he came out.  I enjoyed the loons . . . crickets . . .  peepers . . .  and Rick’s lovely guitar and vocals, bestowed upon just himself and me, and the loons, which made it all the more special.  Especially on this particular day when he made the momentous decision to quit playing banjo after 33 years with various bands in Pennsylvania and Maine.  A very tough decision attributed to focal dystonia – a long story – but basically a loss of up to 90% of his former ability.  It was just frustrating and unfulfilling for him to play so he decided to walk away from the banjo . . . leave the band . . . .  The timing was right in that the band doesn’t have a gig for a few weeks and the rest of the band is at a bluegrass festival – the best place to recruit a new banjo player, with a second festival coming up next weekend. 

But on the guitar . . . an instrument that asks for finger movements different from the all too familiar forward reverse rolls on the banjo, he sounds competent, comfortable and happy, if not yet expert.  He played several Townes Van Zandt pieces.  My favorite – To Live is to Fly – brought tears to my eyes.  Some Kevin Welch . . . candles burning on a warm sultry August evening . . .  420 . . . impending storm.   

Simplicity and presence, a little melancholy, perhaps a slice of excitement and anticipation, helped it to be one of the premier nights of 2011. 

Later . . .  was just icing on the cake.  J     And here I sit, listening to Bonnie Raitt radio on Pandora . . . the rain is pounding . . .Irene has arrived . . .

my cup runneth over. . .

               this 27^th day of August, 2011 . . .

Home renovations

When Rick and I bought this place we knew there would be years and much money spent before it got to the place where we wanted it to be.  I always said it was a "complicated" property, which is why we got it at the very reasonable price we paid.  It needed a new well, something had to be done to separate the double wide from the cottage.  We initially intended to have the double wide hauled away and renovate the cottage.  But when it came time to move in - about 18 months after we bought it - housing prices had gone to hell and my house in Gardiner which had been appraised about five years earlier at $250,000 was now sitting on the market unwanted at $150,000.   I had taken out a home equity loan on it to help purchase this place so I now owed about $120,000 and the $100,000+ that we had thought would be available to renovate the cottage no longer looked likely.  

So we took another look at the double wide and decided we could make do with that.  The cottage has become storage space as we moved from a 14 room house with a huge two car garage into a 7 room house with a small one car detached garage that sits out by the cottage.  It will never be a showcase home but it's comfortable and that's what matters.  Over time we have put in the new well, separated the water and electric from the cottage, built a two car garage with a great room overhead that we use as my pottery studio, Rick's music studio, an exercise room and an extra bedroom when we have guests. We also had a 12 x 65 foot deck built towards the lakeside of the house.  Oh yes, one of the first renovations we did was the master bathroom, putting in a big new shower, tile floors, and a granite counter top.  

From the beginning I've always wanted to put down new floors and take down the strips that hold sheet rock together in mobile homes, have them taped and mudded, and repaint.  Well, having to do so much infrastructure work, the cosmetics have taken a while to get to.  But we just finished phase one yesterday - new floors in the tv room, living room, and kitchen.  Huge improvement.  

Next week our handyman, Todd, is scheduled to come and take down the visible beat up skirting and replace it with a brick look product, which should help the curbside appeal some.

We still have lots of work to do:  paint the kitchen cabinets (or replace them?), replace counter tops, take down the strips, tape and mud them and repaint throughout.  Maybe a new window or two, maybe redo the second bathroom at some point.  And we should probably replace the one-hour bookshelves we put up in the den with something a little more stable and aesthetically pleasing.

Like I said . . . a work in progress.

Cleave Poetry

Have you ever heard of Cleave poetry?  Check it out: http://cleavepoetry.wordpress.com/

Cleave : is a contranym, a word with 2 opposite meanings:

verb 1) split or sever along a natural grain or line. 2) divide; split.

verb 1) stick fast to. 2) become strongly involved with or emotionally attached to.

In its most basic form it is three poems:

two parallel ‘vertical’ poems (left and right)

a third ‘horizontal’ poem being the fusion of the vertical poems read together.  


Click on the poem to make it big enough to read.  

This poem contributed to
dVersePoets Open Link Night #6

April Camp

Another gray day breaks over the April marsh

if you weren’t vigilant, you might think the morning held only bleakness

but for brief moments the sky roils in pinks and blues

above an army of gliding eiders

A magnificent bald eagle is perched sentinel

hoping to discover what Mother has lain before him this day

Then, as suddenly as it came, the marsh has turned bleak once again

the dead branches protruding from the water’s dusky surface

reflect black on black in perfect symmetry

The drab sky blends with bare branches of birches and alders

still bereft of any semblance to July’s verdant greens

or October’s vibrant reds and yellows

Even the drab colors of the osprey that has taken over the eagle’s hunting ground

meld into the muted landscape  

proclaiming their rightful place

in this somber spectacle of slate colored scenery

Posted for dVerse poets open link night.

Glazing - aargh!

I just emptied the kiln from my latest glaze firing.  I've been hesitant to do a glaze firing because the last one I did was terribly unsuccessful.  The chun glaze came out whitish/cream colored and totally blistered.  The other glazes were blistered as well but not nearly as badly.  I realized that I had kind of rushed the firing - not waiting a full hour between turning the switches on.  In fact none of the witness cones (4, 5, and 6) even bent. So this time I waited a full hour and even an hour and 10 minutes on the last 3 switches.  I put the chun pieces back in hoping they might cure properly, to no avail.  The chun glaze actually flaked off to some extent.  The other glazes, mostly royal blue which has always been the most stable glaze one could ask for, even blistered.  I noticed it had done that previously but mostly when using porcelain clay.

The first few times I fired, pieces came out nicely, especially the royal blue.  I don't know why it's changed. So now I'm Googling and trying to figure out what the problem might be.

More vacation 2011 in photos

I took Tammy Trask out on The Cobb for her first kayaking paddle.  Gorgeous, hot day!   We hung out in the shade on the deck for a nice lunch and long chat after our expedition. 

The view paddling back to camp.  

The flowers are starting to fill in nicely.  

Geraniums.

As always, come July, the wild rice and duck weed are in full bloom

The marsh begins to look more marshy now that it's July.

The NitPickers playing at White's Beach Bluegrass Festival.  

Rick and I on a hike in Cobscook Bay State Park where we camped for a couple of days.

At the vista, looking east towards Canada I believe.

The easternmost point in the USA - West Quoddy Head Lighthouse.  I asked the clerk in the little store why it's "West" Quoddy Head but still the most "eastern" point in the US.  She said because East Quoddy Head Lighthouse is in Canada.  

The view from Lubec.  You can see the boat we chartered, The Lorna Doone, for a whale watching tour.  

East Quoddy Head Lighthouse with sardine weirs in the foreground.  

East Quoddy Head Lighthouse.  You can actually walk over to the lighthouse during low tide.  The tides there run between 20 and 50 feet!  

The wind was blowing madly at Liberty Point on Campobello Island so we thought we'd try to recreate the Cadillac Mountain photo I took of Rick a few years ago.  

Me at Liberty Point, Campobello Island.

Me picking rocks on the very rocky Raccoon Beach on Campobello Island.  I camped at this location as a senior in high school.  It was great to see it again.  

Returning to the USA.

Downtown Lubec.  We had dinner at a nice little restaurant overlooking the bay called Cohill's Inn.  

Popham Vacation 2011

We just returned from a very nice week at Popham Beach.  This is our third year of renting a little one room cottage overlooking Popham Beach.  We decided that next year we will bring our camper and use the campground like the rest of the NitPickers.  We only had the truck camper when we started going there and that's just not someplace we wanted to spend a week.  However, with our new 18 footer I think  we'll be pretty comfortable.  What I'll miss the most is the great view (which we won't have from the campground) and the nice deck.  However, the campground is about a third of the cost of the cottage so there's a lot to be said for that.

It was a little overcast and foggy on Sunday and Monday but it didn't rain and it kept the heat down a little.  Robert and Ame came down to visit on Monday, July 4th, and stayed for the fireworks.

Crystal and Rick - July 4, 2011

Robert, Ame, and Rick - 7-4-11

Robert - the Buddha

Sexy man coming out of the sea.

It was a pretty laid back week - spending days on the beach or the deck, reading, sleeping, a little swimming, walks, hanging with friends, and then most evenings spent with the NitPickers playing music.  We had dinner one night at Spinney's - not the greatest food or service but the only restaurant in the area.

June 17, 2011

I left work at 3:00 on Thursday and went directly to camp to kayak for a couple of hours before meeting up with Eddie to go to 223 for a benefit and then we went across the street to Cafe Bangkok for dinner.  We made a short stop at Hattie's and I got back to camp around 10:00.

I was woken early - like 4 a.m. - by several red squirrels chattering at each other over the seeds they discovered I'd put out yesterday.  If I'd been smart I'd have just shut the windows but instead I let them keep waking me up every half hour or so for the next 2 or 3 hours.  I finally gave up trying to sleep around 7 and took my tea and breakfast to the deck and enjoyed the sun.  I decided to forego a morning kayak paddle in order to run some errands so I went to the gym, stopped by Hannafords to get some groceries, and went to Harvey's to get some flowers but they were so unhealthy looking that I decided to wait.  I got back to camp and prepared all the planters and read for a couple of hours before Rick texted to say that he was on his way out.  So I took a quick shower and when he got there we went to The Fat Toad for a drink with Robert and Amy and then to The Mad Dog for dinner.  We made a quick stop in Hallowell and then went back to camp.

Saturday we went into Longfellow's Greenhouse and picked up the flowers and took them back and got them all planted.  Rick had also brought the lawnmower out so he mowed the lawn and things looked pretty nice.  We just hung out and read and Rick fished a bit.

We made barbecue for lunch but got a massive downpour just before dinner so had to improvise and make some baked spaghetti.