I guess my friends know of some of you individually. Especially the one's they've met (Shelly, Mike, Kainui and, of course, Upma). But I don't think too many people are aware of the group. I haven't purposefully hidden it or anything. It just usually comes up as "my friend Shelly said..." or "my friend Angie did..."

Ode to my friends (who know about lakeeffect, but aren't in lakeeffect)
In the form of an Acrostic.

Unruly friend that I am,
Rambling on about something called
Lakeeffect wouldn't be unexpected,
Hardly, my real-time, real-world loved ones.
That it's hard to describe a virtual relationship
Talking or typing with
People who occasionally use emoticons like
: ) or ; ) and must use the character stroke
/ to fulfill a pathname, a link, I know you forgive my convoluted explanations.
/ = the way the tower in piza
Leans if you are facing north.
Architectural structures of my life, dear friends,
Keep in mind how much I would love to tell
Every one of you about the
E that follows the E, the
F that follows the
F (spelling like the goose in charlotte's web),
Effectively my favorite part about one secret I don't tell you.
Closely gaurded, a universal resource locator.
That's the up and down of it
. (period)
Babbling on about some
Long lost
Or "internet friends," I sometimes feel
Guilty leaving out the history, the
Stories, the people, the influence of this connection.
Projecting its impact would frighten even you, guardian angels. I
Often speculate, have I fallen victim
To the technological leap of the
. (dot) com era, the way that others were made lame by
Cars, or hypnotized by un-interactive TV? If
Only they could hold my hand like you do, physical ones,
Meeting you with them might be easier to do.

lots of my offline friends know about the lake effect crew. i talk about ya'll a lot. some of them know that our friendship is primarily internet based. some don't. none have the webste address.

Oh, Upma. I'm so sorry to hear about that. It's just terrible.

odes to the six left over valentine candy conversation hearts
"Romeo" is pink
"Moonbeam" glowing white
"My girl" is green
"Thank you" and "Lover Boy," both white confections pressed with pink type
"URA star" shines in purple

you were left in the bowl like the tea leaves at the bottom of the cup
to tell me something?
so many possible combinations of your sweet sweet poetry
a factorial of 6

below my favorite
then eight more sequences of meaning pulled from a hat
seven hundred and eleven others remain a mystery

Thank you, Lover Boy.
My girl Romeo, URA star.
-Moonbeam

Lover Boy, Romeo, Thank you.
URA star, my girl moonbeam.

Romeo, my girl lover boy,
Moonbeam URA star.
Thank you.

My girl, thank you, Lover Boy
URA star.
Moonbeam Romeo.

URA star, my girl moonbeam
Thank you, Romeo.
-Lover Boy

Lover Boy, URA star, my girl.
Thank you, Romeo.
-Moonbeam

Thank you, Lover Boy.
URA star, Romeo
My girl Moonbeam

URA star, Romeo Moonbeam.
Thank you, Lover Boy,
My girl

Lover Boy, URA star, my girl
Moonbeam Romeo
Thank you

Dear Diary,

So people write songs about
cars
bald eagles
girlfriends
smoking weed
rock and roll

I write songs about
natural disasters
remorseful criminals

Today I wrote a song about a guy on trial for some hedious crime (unspecified), but the main thing on his mind is talking the judge into fixing his mother's parking tickets.

Some people eat
vegetables
sauces
burritos
pizzas

I eat
food made by Sharon at Cup A Joe
Kraft's Macaroni and Cheese

Today I ate Macaroni and Cheese twice. Somewhere on the inside I hear weeping.

Some people have
girlfriends
ex-girlfriends
one night stands with ordained ministers
one night stands with (possible) strippers

I have
crushes
former crushes
tragic crushes

Today I worked on my game. I figure that if I can smoothly make it through the first one-on-one convo, I'm good.

Some people worry about
bills

On this we meet.

---

well, well, well

Ode to Jelly Bracelets (10 black, 5 burgundy, 6 glow in the dark lavender)

Tender Jelly Bracelets,
you know too well the game we play.
I bought you at a Hot Topic with my brother
while I was at home for the holiday vacation.
It was almost the new year and my wrist was naked.
The cashier was delighted by my choice,
the combination of you.
I made these rules for you
sweet bracelets, that I will wear you
until you fall off, or until someone asks me
to give you away to them.
I know these pronouns confuse you,
luscious stretchy rings that you are,
but trust me, it means love (that thing we are all becoming).
On new year's eve, Chris Fritton asked for two of the black,
In late January, Jeff requested one burgundy.
Simple jellies, they could not be refused.
I can't predict how long we'll last together,
how well we'll withstand the rough swims,
our time in limitted sunlight, the desires of the masses
(strangers and friends among them).
But I'll remember the air you held onto when I bathed (tiny bubbles inside),
the extra seconds to dry the skin beneath you,
the warm glow when the lights dim in the concert hall.
I'm nostalgic for you already, little bendy ones,
but so are they all.
People see you now and only vaguely remember the
giant lexicon of style you represent.
In youth, at the school clinic, the nurse would check
my pulse by placing two fingers on my wrist.
Silly senuous things, now you keep such subtle track
of my confounded circulation.
Though I have no real reason, no rare occasion,
no questions to ask,
still I raise my hand
and we rise above, jelly bracelets,
we rise above.

if you have aluminum frame windows you're not going to get rid of the condensation problem. it conducts heat and cold too well. but if you prove me wrong, please tell me how you did it. my windows are a fog from october to april.

The bill is increasing because its getting colder. You have to figure that the bill you just got is for January, the coldest month of the year, typically. When it gets colder, the furnace runs more. The weatherproofing is probably helping a ton. If we could get our house re-proofed, our bill would likely drop some, too.

Dampness is a problem we've never had to deal with.

Weez - You're screwing yourself by turning your heat down when you leave. If you leave it at 60, and the house temperature dips to 58, your furnace kicks on for a minute to push it back to 60. If you left you house cool to 50 while you're gone, then the bastard thing while run non-stop for an hour and a half trying to make it back to 60. And that takes a lot of juice, power, oil, whatever. The only difference turning it up to just 60 makes is you manage to pay the same for heat as if you were comfortable, without ever actually being comfortable. Your bill will definately benefit from you leaving the temp alone. Take it from someone who grew up where it gets cold. (NC winter temperatures hover in the 30s. Not exactly Buffalo, but still pretty cold.) Why didn't you trust your Indiana friends on this?

this morning found me dreaming of a tiny house maybe in new orleans, where i was standing out next to the fence partially made of a clothesline with flapping sheets. i was staring out at the neighborhood which seemed a little dangerous.
this evening i woke froma nap dream which is supposed to symbolize that money is coming. boy, i hope that one is right.
played on the swingsets at the playground with mary during lunch today. then i had a lovely evening cathcing up with gerry, my bus stop friend. i came home and felt all nappy and cocoonish. i woke up from that and now it is nearly bedtime again.

Giddy, giddy snow day. We are under winter storm watch and work has been postponed - maybe cancelled. Hee hee. I plan on playing around in photoshop, working on some of the images I scanned in for websiteness. And my fridge is stocked and my plants are covered and sing-song, ding-dong day.

Dear Diary,

Ooooooh, yeah, ooh, yeah
Everythin', everythin', everythin's gonna be alright this mornin'
Ooh yeah, whoa
Now when I was a young boy, at the age of five
My mother said I was gonna be the greatest man alive
But now I'm a man, way past 21
Want you to believe me baby,
I had lot's of fun
I'm a man
I spell mmm, aaa child, nnn
That represents man
No B, O child, Y
That mean mannish boy
I'm a man
I'm a full grown man
I'm a man
I'm a natural born lovers'man
I'm a man
I'm a rollin' stone
I'm a man
I'm a hoochie coochie man
Sittin' on the outside, just me and my mate
You know I'm made to move you honey,
come up two hours late
Wasn't that a man
I spell mmm, aaa child, nnn
That represents man
No B, O child, Y
That mean mannish boy
I'm a man
I'm a full grown man
Man
I'm a natural born lovers man
Man
I'm a rolllin' stone
Man-child
I'm a hoochie coochie man
The line I shoot will never miss
When I make love to a woman,
she can't resist
I think I go down,
to old Kansas Stew
I'm gonna bring back my second cousin,
that little Johnny Cocheroo
All you little girls,
sittin' out at that line
I can make love to you woman,
in five minutes time
Ain't that a man
I spell mmm, aaa child, nnn
That represents man
No B, O child, Y
That mean mannish boy
Man
I'm a full grown man
Man
I'm a natural born lovers man
Man
I'm a rollin' stone
I'm a man-child
I'm a hoochie coochie man
well, well, well, well
hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry
Don't hurt me, don't hurt me child
don't hurt me, don't hurt, don't hurt me child
well, well, well, well
Yeah

---

Some lucky girl in this town is going to get smooched. I haven't decided who yet, but I've got a few ideas.

don't hurt me, don't hurt me, now

this morning on the way to work i passed several piles of the large 'jet puffed' marshmallows on the ground, labeled in white chalk "snowman turdes."

other thought provoking graffiti along the way:

my favorite scratched in cement that was wet in 1987 or 1988
"i still love martha but she doesn't love me"

and the enigmatic and brand new hot pink
"fuck blondes"
(fuck them, like, yeah! let's fuck blondes!? or fuck them like, awwww fuck 'em? the world may never know)

and finally the new drippy blue, "become love"

i am becoming love. i'll think about the fucking blondes thing later.

Ode to pink hat (with pink bow)

Sweet pink hat with pink bow that fell from the sky during a theatrical performance,
You are the warmest.
I found you more than a year ago on a piano.
Do you remember what I said, pink hat?
I said "Any fool that would leave such a perfect hat
on such an unperfect piano,
does not deserve to have you"
And then I put you on.
Do you remember our first snow together?
You were on my head.
Do you remember when that girl at the snack bar
said how much she liked you.
You were on my head that time too.
And this evening, riding home in Christina's van,
her Dolly Parton tape playing, my hair still damp from the evening swim,
and snow just on the other side of the windshield.
You were on my head also.
How could it be, that when I was cold
and worried about an ear infection and wore you to bed, that
you were on my head, and yet my head was on the pillow?
Do you remember the time when Aaron told the waitress,
"You'll know my friend when you see him, he's wearing
a pink hat with a pink bow"
And she found us, hat, she found us.
Generator of conversation, of awkward stares,
short bursts of envy.
Sweet signifier, knit index of me.
Where will we go when the thaw comes?

I went kayaking yesterday. It was 70 and sunny and the park was full of people flying kites. I had the idea of taking photos from the water. But when I realized I didn't have the balancing skills to remain upright in the kayak, hold onto the oar, take my camera out of my backpack, take a photo, not drift into the bank, not run over any waterfowl, not run into other rowers on the lake and remain dry. But I did have fun paddling around, though my back is a mass of sore muscles right now. Once I got out, I walked around the park taking photos.
Then took off my shoes and let my socks dry, scrunched up my toes in the green grass, leaned against a tree and read.

saw the jacob lawrence exhibit at the museum.

compared my theory of trying to live life as "action rather than reactions" to tracy's theory that you should "be the person you want to be, so that you can do the things important to you, so that you have what you want and require in life" rather than the reverse of trying to have what you want so that you can do what you want so you can be who you feel you truly are. this turns into wordy gibberish in print, but seemed important at the time. a venn diagram might be helpful.

after standing in the mob of people including a group of people smoking & telling jokes in sign language (which was really beautiful to watch the cigarette dance from hand to hand to dangling from lips depending on the required motion.), and homeless folks waiting for internet connections and tables for napping, waiting to get into the library on a sundy afternoon, (seriously!) and trying to do my taxes, i went to Nellie's, the only soul food place in Seattle i've found so far that is worth anything. (angie, we're so there next time you're here.)it made me delirously happy. then for a walk with Mary in the cold sunshine on Alki beach. found a stimpson's sun star (starfish.) i had never seen a starfish on the beach, alive or dead and i didn't realize they lived in cold waters at all.
i keep looking for the meaning in every single thing right now. thankfully, i don't think i'm too suceptible to brain washing or i'd be in a cult or a church by now. umm, no offense to cult or church members. i'm seeking was all i meant to say. seeking even more than usual maybe.


what things mean:
STANDING ON SAND: Supporting your balancing abilities.
STARFISH
Your guidance, represents your physical expression or
manifestation of spiritual connection to Source. Your point of connection to the Universal energy field
A reflection of your inner light
A star also often symbolises the number 5, freedom, communication, intellect, movement,versatility, expression, transformation, elevation
Receiving information related to healing.Suggests a period of healing and regeneration. Alternatively, indicates that you have many options to weigh and decisions to make.

i'm not terribly awake.
i had an active day today.
woke up early and now i'm tiring out.

pulled out my tarot decks and dream cards and have been looking through them. i think someone figured out my significator card, but i don't remember it.

i had a dream last night that my granny and mrs. gerry were taking care of this regal baby boy. granny was carrying him around. they were trying to teach me how to take care of him, or something. he was a proud radiant toddler baby. i'm not sure who he was. who he belonged to.

today tracy was talking about trying to have a baby. weird.

tonight was b movie night. jacob, vonderchrist, carl, t, eric's smelly surly dog otto, and i watched un chien andalou a frech surreal film that salvador dali helped make. it is what the pixies song debaser is about. cutting up eyeballs. whoah ho ho ho.
then rock n roll nightmare. with john mikl thor!
then invasion.

I've already seen THE film. I had a private screening at Squeaky Wheel (membership has its privlidges).

webpages, webpages, everybody is building.

I bought a domain name - and I spent last night doing the Dreamweaver tutorial. Tonight - scanning and button creating in photoshop. When something worth looking at is up, I'll post the link.

Who sang champagne supernova? (or am I making up that song title?)

i like to think of myself as a quasar.

fortunately for all of us, Upma is a star! hey, when do the mere mortals get to see that movie? i'll host a seattle opening. the guest filmaker could even give a talk and have the spot of honor on my sofa bed.

There's a pedagocical theory about plateaus and lines. People learning a skill, going through the rigor of discipline, perceive their progress in plateaus, levels of proficiency appear as epiphany inspite of the fact that their progress could more easily be measured by a line or in some cases a curve. Most people perceive age and maturity in the same manner, they point to the day or the experience that made them older or wiser when the natural process is more suitably linear. Was Blakes mapping of Innocence to Experience one of large skips or a simple plot through eternity? I'm not sure he would tell.

The line between potential and kinetic is the same, one can't realize that potential is spent until almost everything is kinetic, when all height, position, storage becomes energy, and what's ahead is only the long fall.

Comets spin on their own axis, and around the sun, and around the universe, sending debris in every direction, not so unlike the earth. Their tails (or tales) always point away from the strongest light source, usually the star they revolve around. The direction one thinks a comet is going is usually not the same as its true trajectory.

If there is some beauty in every tragedy, whether it be truth or pure sadness then the ability to place each piece of debris by GPS of the Columbia to create an incredibly accurate mapping of descent will be such a glimpse; one of the most beautiful maps of our modern world, pure science, absolute theater, poetics.

These are the lines we draw.

i was potential and i'm becoming kinetic.

i lost a ring i always wear.
my hair was barely long enough for pigtails again.
jeans that have not seen the outside of my closet in ages were zippable again.
nervous energy is changing my body into motion.

I'm waiting for that moment, that moment when after swimming when the water that creeped in your ear while turning your head to breath, now warmed by your brain, slowly creeps out after the subtlest of pops. That sensation is like a smell, an old photgraph of a lost love, Super 8 mm film; utterly nostalgic and soothing. If not now, perhaps when I'm dreaming, or at least when I wake up at 3:30 am for no reason. These are the ways in which life is charmed.

One of us won something, so should we all.

As those of you who play instruments can surely attest, there comes a point in your learning of an instrument where you can just play it. One night you suck. The next night, you don't really suck anymore. At least, that's how it seems. Sometime in the past month, I became able to play the piano. I'm not sure when it happened, and I didn't wake up playing like Duke Ellington or anything, but I just got through playing six songs on the piano. Whole songs! Both hands! And I didn't have to stop and saying, "wait, wait," while I searched for the chordings. Part of has to be that I'm committed to playing piano in the new band, so I have to at least reach a point where I'm not embarrassing myself and others. Sweet.

Upma - Go on, girl!

Upma - you rock.

I just got the camera - thanks, Angie.

Today in the Student Union they're (and when I say they I mean beginning engineering students) dropping eggs the equivalent of two stories (and when I say stories I don't mean novellas by Melville, because that would be a long time to fall). Well dropping eggs with some apparatus that was supposed to make them not break. The eggs were breaking, all of them. I thought it might be nice to hold an event in March where people try to balance eggs during the equinox, as way of recognizing the one day when eggs can stand up for themselves, and that's really horrible (and when I say horrible I mean bad joke) to say, but it's true.

After checking out nervousness.com, sleeping for a while, getting up this morning and listening to a little Neutral Milk Hotel it occured to me that I was "wiping the sleep out of my eyes." I thought it might be nice to collect that sleep, have other people send me theirs, fill a jar with the sleep I get/collect. It would have been nice if my parents had started collecting it for me when I was born. That's something I'll do for a child of mine. What if that sometimes crusty, sometimes viscous stuff people pull from their eyes is the physical manifestation of sleep, not a product of sleep but what sleep turns into when were done with it. Not that anyone would know what to do with a whole jar of sleep or "sleep matter" as I now like to call it. I guess you could eat it but that would just make you sleepy one would presume and there's plenty of food, not to mention drugs, that already do that really well. I just think that maybe our bodies are already the alchemists we wish we were and we don't know where our commodities are.

On the walk to the subway, or maybe it was across campus, it was quite still, but snowing light, the flakes were barely heavy enough to fall.

Austin had a good turnout for the protest. I heard from between 3,000 to 10,000. I had to work or I would have been there.

Angie - in response to a way earlier post of yours - I haven't heard much String Cheese incident - I lump them in with Phish.
Tonight - yummy dinner outing planned, then Neko Case show. But no peacocks.
Though I did want to take photos of the flocks of black birds that hang out in this one group of grotesque trees near the train tracks in the foggy weather tomorrow.
I've had a lifetime relationship with the snot monster. I can't ever breathe through my nose. Ever.

I've made a lot of changes to my room. It's amazing how much your living space can affect you. I feel so much more at home, and at peace, I guess, here than I did before. I put up some pictures - Dirty Version shots, the photobooth zeroxes of Shell and Kainui that they sent me, bunches of pictures of Grace, a few of my brother and my dad, a few photos from my trip to Belize. I need some photos of my mom. She's really camera shy. I need some photos of a few other people around town. I thought I had a photo of you, Upma, but it seems I don't. Evan has one of us together. I have a really hellish beard, and we both are kind of grinning asses, but it's a sweet photo.

Add to all that some flyers from the Dirty Version days.

My room is clean. My bed is made (a new habit). I've got a great woolen blanket that I bought in Mexico. Very warm. It feels good in here.

---

A few days ago, the water pressure in our house dropped by about half. It was never very good anyway. Showers in the upstairs bathroom are now impossible. You can't really wash the dishes. It's a pain in the ass. The pastor (aka our landlord) has finally agreed to replace the pipes in the house. We have no idea how big a job it's going to be, but we're just happy he isn't kicking us out to do it.

Then, this morning we wake up and it's 60 degrees in the house. We assume we're out of heating oil. The dude comes to fill it up and tells us that we aren't out. We get 230 gallons anyway (bill: $350+). So, we investigate. The furnice won't start. The furnice is broken. We're cold. The repairman is supposed to come tomorrow morning. If it's a big job, we're crossing our fingers that the Pastor doesn't decide to go ahead a boot us, fix things up and charge the next guys more rent to cover the expense.

---

Good news, though. My friend Andrew has a band called the Dawn Chorus. They place quiet acoustic music. Nice stuff. They play mostly as a duo, guitar and bass. I asked them if they would mind learning a few of my songs and playing with me at the coffee shop or the pizza place sometime. They agreed. So we were practice and it was going well. Andrew ups the deal. He wants me to be a part of his band and we'll just split the songwriting and singing. I wasn't shooting for that, but it sounded like fun so I said okay.

In the meantime, Kemp (booker of PS211 in Winston-Salem) is looking for someone local to open for Crooked Fingers in March. That will likely mean nothing to most of you, but it's a pretty sweet show. Crooked Fingers can sell out PS211 no sweat. Kemp asked Andrew if he wanted to do it. Andrew said hell yeah. And now we have a show.

Of course, Kemp is expecting the old folky Dawn Chorus. Instead he's going to get the new five man version. New songs. This is the set up. Andrew plays guitar and sings his songs. Amy plays bass. I'm playing piano and singing all of my songs - six at the moment. We're going to get Joel from ex- of Raymond Brake and All Night to play drums and Will from Zegota to play second guitar and whatever else he wants. We are going to rock the house. We're sounding good.

I'm really excited. I hope to have a tape or some mp3s to share before too long.

Don't be silly. You can't make a direct flight to Monster Island. The ferry only comes once a week. Any airplane would have to land on the water. A hydroplane or whatever.

Does the snot monster live on Monster Island (when it isn't busy in your nose?)

So is the pink background for Valentine's Day?

Sorry about the font weirdness. Blogger seems to have about a two week lag on template changes these days.

Only if Shelly writes my haiku bio :)

What do you guys think of the idea of haiku bios for the new site? It was Shelly's idea but she hasn't mentioned it, so I figured I would.

Deliquent in picture-sending: Angie Joe, Shells, Upma, JT