Skip to main content

End Of The Season.

So, it's the last day of summer. And it feels like it. Been really cold the last few days. Need blankets on the bed. Whiskey suits better than gin and tonics. And then today, it's warm and lovely...

LastDayOfSummer

And that somehow makes sense. It's been a hell of a season. One long series of off-balance hops and sucker-punch recoveries. Lots of plans out the window, and spur-of-the-moment improv in their place. As of today I'm employed again, after starting off May with two jobs, having none by mid-August... After a month of selling off records to make ends meet, pounding the city streets to hand in resumes and interview for different places, and having to battle my not-inconsiderable pride and learn to gracefully accept friends offering to help me out. Nothing much has gone as expected, and it's taken me a lot of time to accept my lack of control, remember how to stop trying so goddamn hard, and just trust.

So now, the heat lifts and things start falling into place. I start a new job tomorrow. Whatever happens next, I'm looking forward to it. Welcome to autumn.


-PAR

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Farewell, Matthew S. Farrell

Matthew Farrell. Self-created raconteur, impresario, dandy, sponsor of the arts, cheerleader of creativity, perpetual inspiration. Our dear ice cream server Grace once jokingly referred to him as “the winner, and only contestant, of Charlottesville’s Oscar Wilde Lookalike Contest”, and y’know, she was pretty spot-on. Matt (I was told at various times to call him Matt, Matthew, or “just Farrell”, so to this day, I call him all those things) had his own style that was clearly modeled on his platonic ideal of a perfect gentleman. And this gentleman dressed like a Fitzgerald character, talked like a continental aristocrat who summered in some undefined New England coastal village, and walked like Groucho Marx. He smoked unfiltereds, often two at once, just for kicks, which he would hold when gesticulating excitedly as he greeted dear friends or total strangers. Pretentious? Yeah, a bit. Sincere? Always. Distinctive? Absolutely. At some point, I think I recall him saying someth

On David (DC, Dave) Berman.

David Berman has left the stage, made his exit, delivered his final observations on the state of existence.   I feel like it’s dumb to be tearing up at the thought of a Berman-less world, so I guess I’m dumb, and I guess I don’t really mind. I can't claim I knew him very well, but I thought of him as a friend. You know, the sort of friendships that form when you're both part of an amorphous social circle of weirdos in a small town at a certain point in time? Like that. Actually, exactly that. Everyone ends up at the same places, and it’s all a sea of get-togethers where everyone ends up in the kitchen, and a tiny club and a sushi bar and a Thai restaurant and a coffee shop and a bunch of patios in the summertime. You see different combinations of the same people, and there’s always beer and whiskey, and every wall is decked out with Steve Keene paintings, no matter which house or shop or cafĂ© you’re sitting in. Now, a couple decades removed, defining specifics is onerous, and

DJing, Charlottesville VA, Wednesday January 6th 2010!

If you are around in central Virginia tomorrow, you should come check this out. ...And if you're not, you should still look at the lovely event poster that my buddy James K. Ford and I made. The best imaginary vintage paperback cover never made, methinks. Very "Ace Double", in color scheme and layout. Anyhow, DJ gig. In the hometown. With my buddy James (AKA DJ Hummingbird Feeder) and me. We'll start around 9/9:30/10pm and go 'til last call. It will rock, and funk, and do other genretastic verbjectives... And it would be great to see you.