Archive for July 2005
Don’t Follow
I am in the Walsmith’s guest bedroom on Ashby Street in Beaverdale, Iowa. The house is silent save for the ceiling fan whirling overhead, and a bird chirping just outside the window. I am some 1014 miles west of New York City, in a quiet neighborhood just northwest of Des Moines. I am barnstorming the…
Read MoreSpeed Of Sound
Minos may control the land and sea, but not the air. And so I will fly. I will soar in the clouds, up where I am safe. My wings will be aluminum and steel, graphite and wire. I will drink jet fuel. I will travel faster than sound. I will race the dawn. And when…
Read MoreOver & Out
I hear laughter as I climb the stairs. I knock loudly, inhale deeply, and wait. The door opens quickly. A reddish-blonde rock star stands before me and says in an Aussie accent, “You must be Benjamin, eh?” I am two hours late for Neil and Aaron’s dinner party. I have an excuse, but it’s not…
Read MoreA Grammarian Stuck In A Medical Drama
I’ve never really been one for games. Just ask my brother. He spent a childhood wrestling with my apathy. I grew bored with jigsaw puzzles, lost interest in Monopoly, and walked away from pick-up flag football. Not surprisingly, when he and his bespectacled friends began playing all-night sessions of Dungeons & Dragons, I was not…
Read MoreMilk & Honey
NPR’s Carl Kasell just delivered the good news. “The extensive heat wave across the eastern third of the country is expected to break tonight.” Cool. Where I’m goin’, I don’t need any more heat. It’s Video Music Awards season at The MTV. It’s all hands on deck. It’s full court press. It’s all kinds of…
Read MoreDifferent Names For The Same Thing
When I was seven-years-old, my parents took Chris and me to “Annie” at Chicago’s Schubert Theatre. Two things stuck: Annie’s “The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow” (reprised in every song I’ve written since), and Miss Hannigan. Miss Hannigan scared the living shit out of seven-year-old me. (My mother loves to remind me of this.) Heck,…
Read MoreSoul Meets Body
I checked my last Xanax through to Logan before I could choke it down. I’m in seat 3A of an eight-seat Cessna 402, a plane only slightly larger than a station wagon. I’m not quite white knuckling this puddle jump between Nantucket and Boston, but I am uncomfortable. I am remarkably lucid. Too lucid. There…
Read MoreHoliday Road
Best. Ride. Ever. I was grilling a piece of freshly caught tuna when it rolled in. The sun faded. The bay disappeared. The air cooled. Tiny droplets of fog clung to my eyelashes. After dinner, I rode my bike out across the Smith Point Bridge. The night was silent. Everything was pale blue. I couldn’t…
Read MoreThe Lady With The Spinning Head
My car departs at 4:45. I’ve packed swim trunks, running shoes, and my iPod. That’s it. Delta Shuttle departs Marine Air Terminal at six o’clock. I arrive Logan 6:56. I arrive Nantucket at nine a.m. The sweaty city may never hear from me again. I’ll be thinking of you. I promise.
Read MoreWhat Sarah Said
I get some text messages now and again, but they’re neither funny nor provocative. I’m a little old school with the whole typing on the phone thing anyway. It’s kind of annoying. Email, though? Lifeblood of The MTV, and fun part of doin’ this site. So, with a nod to Sara B, here’s a bunch…
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