jeff conlin - fall '04 archive

(but you did, 'n i thank you)
Hey, guess what? SNOW!

SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW! SNOW!

And SNOWS!

ironically enough, hung out tonight at the casa de la familia Snow... long-time friends for the single reason that unlike so many people in this world, but like those that i tend to hold near and dear... they just get it. It was great catching up, telling old stories, and basking in the warmth as the mini-blizzard raged outside.

Drove home in the wind and snowdrifts listening to none other than Chet Baker. Definitely a Chet Baker kind of evening. A perfect end to a great weekend. Caught the Mofofunka gig (and more Newcastle than necessary) in Canton Friday night. Mighty funky bunch, them kids. Saturday was a big holiday open house at the BMW shop, followed by hooking up with old friend Dave Porier for a Christmas Party at Brit Hume's tennis club in the middle of deep Virginia horse country (and more Knob Creek than necessary). Met up today with Bob and Krista for some Taco Fiesta lunch (and more Negra Modelo than necessary) and a few hours of reminiscience and disturbing storytime (after all, they're Fiesta stories... involving Bob). Then came back to the house to find Tom and his new fiancee Sheri back for the first time in a month and a half, as well as all of their close friends for a really nice dinner party. Bolted from there and caught up briefly with Dave and Zach from The Business to listen to their new album's current state and pick up some gear... then off in the snow to the Snows.

Just good stuff all around. Still insanely busy, still lacking in sleep, but the weekend's just been a strong reminder on the importance of keeping close enough to those that really matter. Here's to hoping everyone else is diggin' on some pre-Christmas snowy winter wonderland vibe...

(ain't it hard just to live?)
Went out urban hiking today. The two miles and change that seem to separate the functional-if-not-tidy working class, industrial part of southeast Baltimore from the overly-gentrified, overpriced, faux-Arlingtonian mecca of roofdecks that is "Canton" (which, in and of itself could mean anything from Fell's Point to Butcher's Hill to Greektown according to realtors) allows a lot of thought.

The old commercial center of Eastern Ave in Highlandtown is alive with customers again, though maybe not Crate & Barrel and Panera. Many have called for a commercial redevelopment of that area, but as the new wave of urban turnover cranks back into motion with Latin American immigrants, abandoned storefronts are now converted into pupuserias, record and tape stores, and small clothing shops. The wall of gentrification that sits just to the west has their Can Company redevelopment with its suburban-requisite assortment of upscale stores and chain restaurants... so there's no reason to sit and wish that what is essentially retail development for upwardly-mobile young people would trickle into that dignified old central shopping district... it would be of almost no use to the population that is within walking distance.

So its functional, and somewhat sustainable. Plus it is comprised of locals setting up shop to serve locals, which is always something special in this day and age. In the west side of the city, Mondawmin Mall is another prime example of that. A completely functional, successful, sustained enclosed mall completely lacking in any store any white person from the suburbs has heard of... and no one cares.

I think most of the young yuppies moving here for the "city life" completely miss the point that getting a sandwich at Quizno's, some kitchen crap at Bed Bath & Beyond, organic groceries at Whole Foods, and dinner with your friends at Austin Grille has nothing to do with the basic tenets of urban commerce. I've already resigned myself to accepting that independent small business and community-cenetered development are a lost cause in the suburbs... almost more like a cancer... one that's now attacking cities and luring the cultureless to move back in to the abandoned cities, but bring with them the vapid catalog-dependent existence. Ouch.

I'm just kind of rambling I guess... but my point is simply that I'm more than sick of the culture that decides that kind of development is not only ok, but should be embraced. I wish there were a way to show people that there's a lot more to life than Megalomalls and Applebee's (not to mention the $6/hr "jobs" that they "create")

Brings to mind that McMansion development arson spree in Charles County. Maybe a little extreme, but it has generated a lot of debate and insight into clear-cutting in environmentally sensitive areas. As Chris Rock says, "I'm not saying they should have done it... but I understand."

Oh well... the important fact is that Otis and Shirley were snuggling this morning for the first time ever. It was very cute.

(tales of ribaldry)
A case of Heineken, some Pizza Rolls, and the Dirty Blues compilation in the living room stereo can only mean Christmas Decoration Night with the Conlin family.

Andy and Sara showed up, as well as Andy's old best friend Jon. The majority of the night was actually spent just sitting in the living room and causing a ruckus, followed at 0-dark-30 by a frenzy of decorating... but the tree just looks right, the whole house does. Dad's done an amazing job decorating this year. I think I heard a few hints from mom while putting things on the tree... no doubt she's been guiding him as well in some sort of way.

My week has been just fine, despite a nagging cold, a slight chemical imbalance, a terribly shitty paycheck (apparently the ability to take Bereavement Leave kicks in in two weeks, the bastards), not to mention a very badly timed house alarm trigger and even worse customer service from Brinks Home Security. But when balancing those things with good DVDs, warm blankets, and better company, its hard to be terribly negative.

Gigs are lining up for the winter, and couldn't come at a better time. I haven't played regularly in a while, and really miss folks like Clarence, Jesse James, Dave Porier, and the WBB. Heather even tipped me off that the legendary Toulouse is back in business? Well in addition to all the feel-good musicality, Daddy needs cash. Bad. I can't believe the holidays are already here. I'm going to do cards, but here's advance warning... don't expect anything from me this year beyond the most heartfelt expression of appreciation and gratitude that you'll ever get in your life. 'Cause I'm brizzoke, but chock fulla appreciation and gratitude. And you materialistic bitches need a lesson in what really matters. And I haven't relied on a cheesy cop-out in a while. We all win!

Speaking of music, check out this friggin' phenomenal session last month at Blues Alley with Bill Heid, Clarence Turner, Brother Henry, Big Joe Maher, and Eric Harper. I'd kill to have been in on this session, but would have probably just killed myself after hearing Bill's other-worldly noodling.

Tomorrow looks nice, and technically I'm off. Think I'll highjack a BMW R1150RT from work and find a state line or two to dance with.

(as you walk on by...)
Some days are so monumentally surreal they leave you wondering if they actually happened at all... or at least just remembering that life's pretty damn amazing if you're honest enough with it to let it be.

... or maybe just wondering if you've been cast in a circa-'85 John Hughes movie and no one bothered to tell you (thanks WRNR for the terrifyingly perfect placement of Simple Minds in the Sunday evening playlist).

I suddenly have a very sick kitten... sleeping on my head. Goin' to the v-e-t tomorrow. And to the J. Roddy show at Ottobar after watching Comrade Che's life story. Word.

(P.S. I'll find my frog.)
Well... what to write?

I can't sleep. Stomach hurts. Put my linens in the drier with a load of laundry that had been sitting a while. Something smells funny. I think I'm going to re-wash everything.

So this is the week everything gets "back to normal", I guess. The Conlin Family Variety Show is over (though it went very well). We're no longer superstars. The support network went back to its daily business. I returned to work, Andy to whatever he does all day... Dad to the house full of memory, symbolism, lonliness and that indescribable mystical energy that has always filled that place, though somehow Mom managed to wrangle it all together and keep it under control. I don't know how he does it.

I was half hoping to make today just another Thursday. Woke up feeling completely drained of energy, drive, and good vibes. Just wanted to sleep in, work on the motorbike, work out, maybe enjoy one of my new bottles of fine whisky (thanks, moto!). But instead, we met back at the house armed with pre-cooked turkey breast, instant potatoes, stove-top stuffing, microwaveable broccoli & cheese, and we gave it a shot. Actually, it was pretty cool... though in the deep dark back of my mind, something about it all just made me want to lose it.

The windchimes are louder than ever, and naturally (unnaturally), a massive rose bloomed in the garden last week. Everyone knows that November yeilds plenty of roses. I swear, the nerve of some people.

I'm listening to The Arcade Fire, and am madly in love.

I really want to say thanks to everyone who has been there in person, in spirit, in phone call, in email, in letter, in card, or just in the form of good vibes. Anyone who understood, couldn't understand but said they could, anyone who couldn't understand, didn't even want to, but still wanted us to know they were there, or just those who came armed with one dollar bills and the will to steal (thanks, Kasima). I can't begin to describe how overwhelmingly beautiful it is to see everyone come out of the woodwork and show their genuine concern and love in times like that. It was a shining testament to the beauty of Mom's soul, to the spirit she instilled in all of us, and of course to the greatness of those we surround ourselves with. Now everyone pat themselves on the back for being cool. Good job. Go team!

The reality of her loss makes itself known a little more every day... but just in brief, piercing moments... a few seconds at a time, really. I was feeling somewhat masochistic and decided to go to Annapolis Mall knowing full well that the Christmas decorations and general holiday vibe would be rampant. How many childhood trips to that place were made this time of year? Bundled up in the winter coat knowing full well once we got done with shopping for music boxes, perfumes, old man sweaters, or sports memorabilia, we would then stop by the toy store or record store "just because". With no reason for being there outside of just taking it all in, I instantly saw nothing but moms with their wide-eyed children doing early holiday shopping... all systems go. 3... 2... 1... The nice lady at the counter handed me my coffee and asked if I was ok. I just smiled and said I really, really, really liked coffee.

And then it passed.

Maybe not passed so much as sunk in a little deeper.

Anyway... it was a good week. Surreal on a lot of levels... rock and roll, plenty of love, reconnecting with old friends, surprise houseguests, luncheon meats galore, meeting close relatives I've never met before...

And then there are the kittens. Who are doing very well, thank you. I think they helped the most. Well, not really... but they do. Self-important (but snuggly) little bastards.

(do right and fear nothing)

Washingtonpost.com obit

Last Friday night while walking back to the car after a nice dinner out at a downtown Baltimore restaurant, my mom suffered a heart attack and possibly a concurrent seizure. Quick, relatively painless, and void of any lingering, drawn-out agony. But a painful surprise none the less. Seeing as how both Andy and I are living back here, we were at the hospital within minutes (save for me almost punching out a rude security guard, but that's another story).

Maybe the shock still hasn't worn off... or maybe the nature of how our family handles things, the fact that we were all very close, very honest with eachother, and never left anything unsaid... maybe that prevents a rush of dramatic emotional theatrics as you sometimes see in this situation. Either way, it is sort of unsettling to me that I haven't had a massive breakdown, though I do get very affected when talking to close friends who were also close with her. I have done a lot of sleeping, and a lot of partying. Probably the two things mom tried to instill the importance of in me more than anything. :)

Here is the info most people are asking for. Feel free to pass it along to anyone who might be interested. We're having a memorial service for her that will be very non-funeral. The point is, she was an upbeat, hopeful, life-loving person, and we want her to be remembered as such. The service will feature a significant amount of "open-mic" time for anyone to share any thoughts, stories... anything that reflects the enduring impact Mom had on their lives.

Saturday, November 20th at 9:30am
Mount Oak Church
14100 Mt. Oak Rd.
Mitchellville, MD 20721
(map)

a reception will follow back at the house :
1518 Perrell Ln.
Bowie, MD 20716
(map)

301-249-9308 is the number there, and Dad's email is
rconli1 [at] erols.com

Any conctact is warmly welcomed. Dad's been doing well, and part of what's been helping him out the most has been the volume of phone calls, letters, and emails... from old friends to total strangers... just further illustrates how many lives mom has touched in many ways. Feel free to pass on any of this information to anyone you think might be interested.

You're welcome to bring any kind of food or drinks, but I'm guessing we'll have MORE than enough. (So if in doubt, of course, bring drinks, preferably ones brewed, er, distilled, er, manufactured in Ireland)

Not much else to share at this point, I think. Obviously we all really thank everyone for their support and good wishes, and we hope to see anyone who feels like being there at the service, or just at the house afterwards.

(whatchoo call me?)
Welcome the two new members of the Conlin clan : Shirley and Otis. Just six months old, but already overstaying their welcome at the Tri-County shelter in southern MD and on the last chance round...

(Shirley has a bit of a head cold)

(Otis is still shocked that he escaped lethal injection)

They're still pretty territorial and don't understand that things like food, litter, and water (not to mention my attention) are all readily available, so they fight over everything. Hopefully that will die down in the next few days, along with Shirley's cold.

Yeah, so I've got this super gay "Hooray for kitties!" vibe going, but c'mon... look at 'em.

Happy Birthday to Sara... wherever she went. Other lessons learned this week : nothing wrong with hedging your bets... but remember that other folks at the table are doing the same thing, and that results in no clear winner or loser sometimes.

Whatever. I have two cats in my lap.

(visit kew gardens!)
All quiet on the eastern front. Tom was here for the last few days, occasionally having friends over. Good folks, them. 'Course I respect anyone who can put up with him over long amounts of time.

I kid because I love, of course, but do what you can to avoid being near the feminine hygene isle at K-mart with this guy. What happens at age 13 should stay at age 13.

He and Sheri are off for a magnificient European vacation. Check this out. And the whole setup of the revelation to her was even more impressive. Always nice to see relationships that are based on mutual enjoyment of life... trying to make the other person feel good... you know, things like that.

The J Roddy / Water School show was mighty lovely. Baltimore is beginning to embrace The Business, and its about time. Those boys sure could use some love right now. And what can be said about Chris Meyers and the gang beyond, "What will Sara Michelle do now?"

Saw The Incredibles with Kasima and delved into the surreality that is Arundel Mills. There's something particularly weird about drinking and smoking in the MegaLoMall. Great movie, though. Easily the best Pixar film yet. Brad Bird's storytelling style is a welcome change... far more depth and darkness in this one, and a lot of internal character development. Either way, we hate Bob.

Spent today riding a BMW R1150RS around the best backroads in the state with my boss and GM... been doing a lot more social things with them lately, even picked up their tab at dinner last week in one of those upwardly-mobile whitemale powerplay kinds of moves. All that was left was a cocked eyebrow and a deep-voiced narrator uttering the phrase, "Well played, Jeffrey.... very well played."

What am I even talking about? Oh, that's right... nothing terribly important. And that's a good thing.

(sustained erection)
Here we go... all up to Ohio. I don't have the patience to wait this one out. Something tells me that in the morning, we'll not know anyway. Keep your fingers crossed...and I don't mean for the next 48 hours, I mean for the next 8 years. Regardless of who wins this round, this is further proof that both parties clearly need to do better. Fire McAuliffe first... Hell, make Gillespie the next GOP candidate. I like him far more than anyone else in that camp. Both parties just need to open their eyes and see that two 50/50 elections in a row are not a good sign for anyone, especially the country as a whole. How hard can that be to figure out? Going farther to the edges to win isn't a strategy that will win any respect to the near-majority centrist independents who are technically party members but are close enough to the center. On that note, who caught Jon Stewart on Crossfire? Amazing.

Meanwhile my party-line Republican roommate/landlord just yells out (after half a bottle of Shiraz) "Woohoo... I'm goin' to Montana! Medical marijuana!" He'll hate me for quoting him on this.

Seems like a lot of people within a link (mental or otherwise) from here are going through some bouts of self-hate mixed with blindered fatalism. Not cool. Regardless of the scenario, the outcome is almost always dependent on your own mental well being and determination. Yeah, I sound like Tony Robbins mixed with Bob Ross IV, but no use in victimizing yourself to your own ambition... no one pays attention to that. How much better to overcome adversity and come out on top of your game, in control, and feeling fulfilled in all imaginable directions? Even if you're not... at least acknowledge your sacrifice, struggle, and current position in the grand scheme of things, especially compared to the lowly state-educated slackers around you. :/

Not being dispariging. Not being a good speller either. Just sayin'. When youv'e worked your ass off for something and are finally there, why hate yourself and everything around you? Or (jumping stories a good bit here), when you have come to the conclusion that you hate yourself and everything around you, why not just let go, cut your losses, and move FORWARD? If not even for your own sake, at least for the sake of those who are sick of seeing you hate your life...

Ehh, but what do I know? Well... for one... I do know this... I have a reunion gig with the legendary Jesse James shaping up for this winter. That's more than enough validation that things are going well for now-

... and that's enough Guinness for this O'Connellan-

oh, wait... Bush has Ohio? Well... at this point, hopefully he'll pick up a few more and at least it will be a decisive victory. That would surely be better for the country as a whole

than another 50/50 when all is said and done. Speaking of said and done... <snore>

(land of pleasant living)
Continued welcoming home by the city of Baltimore. Last Thursday night, a beacon of righteousness was lit, towering over my neighborhood, signalling to all that we are indeed in The Land of Pleasant Living. A 90-foot-square red-illuminated Mr. Boh stands atop the roof of the old National Bohemian brewery on the dividing line between Highlandtown and Greektown... partly in homage to the neighborhood's industrial past and the city's working class drink of choice, and partly a gag to please the ironic postmodern hipster gentrifiers who will no doubt be moving into the overpriced condos going up in the gutted remains of the once functioning brewery (Pabst/Strohs has long since bought the Boh trademark, replaced true Boh with watered down generic American pisswater and bottles it all in Detroit - but Mr. Boh still graces the can, so we'll all keep drinking it).

Ever heard of the Baltimore Margarita? Natty Boh with the top of the can dipped in Old Bay. Mmmmm...

While out on the trademark marble steps of my new place tonight talking on the phone, a neighbor from across the street signalled me over. I've yet to really connect with anyone on the block, but Robert seemed nice enough. Actually, he seemed like he may have had an extra chromosome...

He told me about the neighborhood vices (and there are quite a few), and how all the homeowners do a pretty good job of keeping an eye out for everyone. I told him to just think of me as one of them. He then showed me around his place. It was his great grandmother's... she moved to Greektown in 1924, and spent her whole life here. The house appeared untouched by time... actually, the newest thing was the "totally remodelled" kitchen. Circa 1951. Every chrome-and-bakelite-handled appliance still worked.

The house was scattered with old faded pictures of family members, mismatched wallpaper, and religious figurines. What really caught my eye was what looked like a massive harmonium in the living room. "D'ya know what that is?" Robert asked. Pffft. Do I?! He sat down and started playing some of the most amazing stuff I've ever heard. Thickly packed orchestral chords, rising and sustaining, transitioning in every imaginable way in a regal, almost religious fanfare. I asked what he was playing, "Oh, I don't know... just made it up. Sometimes I like to play things like Chopin might... or Joplin. I had a pretty good ear since I was little. Don't have a TV, too. Too much bad stuff on them. So I play a lot. "

The pipe organ like roar of the antique harmonium, complete with the smell of what he called "old air" coming from the bellows while surrounded by essentially a 1930s living room, not to mention the Baby Huey affability of Robert himself was just profound. Where else but here?

After a stint on the harmonium (then the piano), we then got to talking about local history. Another very Baltimore kind of moment, as two relatively young guys (in human years, I estimate Robert to be about 30) passionately deliberate on the topic of trolleys and streetcars, and how GM's unyeilding push to replace every major American city's mass transit system with diesel in the 40s and 50s was possibly one of the strongest contributors to postwar urban decay.

Naturally, Robert had four books on the history of the Baltimore streetcar system - and a documentary on VHS - and gave them to me. My inner 72 year old is very happy tonight, as is the inner 12 year old, I guess.

And to think that I almost punched out a 50 year old co-worker earlier today (another story for another time...)

(so I'm not unsympathetic)
FIRST OFF : lost and found... since the move, I noticed some of my favorite things have recently gone missing. Has anyone seen : my digital camera case (empty except for the Minolta battery charger), or two of my Director's Series DVDs (Spike Jonze and Michel Gondry, specifically)? If so, let a brother know. Word.

So one of my co-workers is slowly unravelling. Its very disturbing to watch. I had his back, tried to be understanding, thought about the bottom line... we've got hundreds of customers who trust and rely on him. But after an hour of using the company phone to stalk ex-girlfriends, then almost come crying to me saying that he felt awful and knows he's walking a thin line, and just can't bear to be fired yet... that was all I could take.

Elsewhere, my new place rules. I can't believe I've managed to keep myself together in the last year...

Great little Greek restaurant on the other side of the block, and that's still two blocks away from Greektown proper. I have no choice, a new workout routine begins today.

Good stuff comin'... blah blah blah... don't feel like typing. Goodnight.

Says Lurr - "Urgh. I only wrote that poem to test my printer."

(uelc'me haum, hawn!)
The Greatest City In the World has taken me back. Not only has she taken me back, but she took the time to hang out with me last night and make sure we got off on the right foot.

Started the night off with the young gentrifiers drinking Knob Creek, Sam Smith's and listening to someone play DJ with his Powerbook.

Transitioned over to the old school, hard-working, rock'n'rollin' neighborhood dive talking politics and motorcycles with a 3rd generation resident over Budweisers and some televised NASCAR.

Checked out Colin's digs across the street and was thoroughly blown away. Nothing says home like knocking all the walls out of your place and hanging the art you inspired from ex-girlfriends on the walls.

On the way back to 621 S. Macon, feeling all sort of pensive and deep, listening to Colin's new side project, I made a wrong turn and found myself in a very familiar, somewhat uncomfortable place. Something Baltimore very clearly wanted to show me.

Around 1997, while In college, I combined sociology, urban planning, local history, and documentary audio/film production... those studies all came together at the right time, as the City decided to buy out and destroy an entire neighborhood that stood for over 100 years; once an idyllic resort community, but now a toxic wasteland. The residents loved their homes, and their neighborhood... it was probably the strongest-knit sense of neighborhood pride in the city, which is saying something.

Anyway, I took photographs, recorded interviews, and studied the long, embattled history of the Point... befriended some long-timers and shared a beer at the one neighborhood hole in the wall. Really started to feel attached to the place. An emotionally-charged 50 page report resulted, as well as two video essays, and two accompanying original music tracks (part 1 here). My last visit there was a month or so before the final razing. The houses were abandoned (some with furniture and everything), vandalized, and looted - except for a few old folks who hadn't received their buyout checks yet. At the same time, however, save for the clatter of a diesel engine pulling out of the oil refinery next door every few minutes, it was a genuinely peaceful place. Almost dignified and proud in its final minutes.

I'd thought about going back to see what it looked like afer the fact... but never got around to it. One wrong turn on one right night, and there I was... surrounded by nothing but concrete and sodium vapor streetlights. Further down in the Point, the City decided to erect a new sewage treatment plant. Fitting.

My last experience with this fine city was succinctly summarized with one now-legendary mixtape (still available if anyone's interested). I think this time around its going to be photography.

Thanks to Mom and Dad (thanks especially for putting up with my exhausted frustrated unhappiness), all my furniture is now here. Including my bed. Why am I still typing?

(fdøåhrgebhøøranglekkå!)
Just hit a weird life-benchmark while enjoying poached salmon and lingonberry drink...

Every attractive woman around me who appeared to be about my age had a child in tow, and a fat friend, and were talking about the most innane things in life - that whole catalog-living crafts-and-self-help kind of boring woman conversation that curls my skin.

Sure, that's what I get for going to the upper-middle-class Wal-Mart that is IKEA on a Thursday during the day, but still... I'm used to the attractive women that all appear to be my age either actually being 15, or just being gay.

Anyway, I continued sipping my Håfi and eavesdropped as the very attractive, healthy looking woman in what appeared to be her mid-late 20s sitting at the next table droned on with her friend about the new line of something unimportant that just launched at her favorite store, about her husband's promotion and how its finally going to pay for all that furniture she really wants instead of the crap they "get by" with, and how her younger "rebel" sister is never going to get anywhere in life if she doesn't stop going off on adventures and "ignoring" the "logical" next step of finding a man and settling down. She peppered the conversation with statements like, "Oh Jesus, Phillip... don't eat that." I know people think I make this stuff up, but I don't.

Across the dining area, a little white boy smiled and threw a stuffed bear at a little asian girl, and she threw it back at him. He cried. Both their moms grabbed them, yelled at them, and went opposite directions.

Anyway... this move is a good thing. Now the important question: should I get the Nårrebo, or the Bønde? Yikes, I'm becoming one of them.

Funkpuppy1: I ain't never gonna settle DOWN, 'cause I aint' never gonna SETTLE. But ain't nothin' wrong with GITTIN' DOWN, now. Lemme hear an amen.

hdogg915: AMEN BROTHA