Nature Adventure! at Pott’s Point, Maine

The friends I’m staying with live near Pott’s Point, in South Harpswell, Maine.  Pott’s Point is a beach, the tip of South Harpswell.  It’s made up of rock that looks like petrified wood, billions of shells, and whatever washes in with the tide.  I needed some exercise and wanted to go exploring, so I went on a nature adventure!

Shells

Pott's Point

It’s only a 10-15 minute walk from the house, so I’ve been there a few times.  Besides the peace and beauty out there, I realized you can also go again and again because the tide changes things around really drastically and it will be different every time.  It seemed to be a really different shape than the last few times I’ve been.

There were a lot of puddles, so I went to a part of the beach I hadn’t really been to and checked them out.  I found a baby crab with only one claw, flipped on its back, just a few feet away from a big puddle.

Ol One Claw

I thought it might be dead, but then it twitched.  I got some flat rocks, and put it on its belly.

The Crab

Then I put it in the puddle, but it didn’t move again.  I was apparently TOO LATE.

After trying to save the baby crab, I walked out as far as I could to the end of the Point and happened to be there when a tour boat was near.  There were more fishing and crab or lobster boats out than I’d seen before, too.  Here’s a shot towards the islands with the tour boat.

Rocks, Plants, Tourists, Island

Then a bee started hitting me in the head over and over!  Luckily he didn’t sting me.  He was all like, “Piss off, human!”  The two sides of Pott’s Point are separated by a wild area with trees and flowers, etc, and the bees were hard at work on those flowers.  I had got too close and interrupted their intimate moment.

When a bee hits you in the head, and you suddenly realize there are many more close by, the next thing you do will be the wrong thing, IE flailing.  I cut that out pretty quick, and just moved cautiously away.

Then I saw this little guy!

Look at this little do-er!  I bet he is a sea caterwauler.

The internet has not been forthcoming about what he might be, but my guess is that he is full of poison.

It must be lonely. Nobody hugs you a second time.

FULL OF POISON AND CUTE

Then I saw some interesting rocks, so I came home with treasure!

Booty!

Booty!

The light isn’t great in the photo, they are way sparklier.  Now I’m home fantasizing about what bacterial infections I must have picked up by touching so much nature!

The State of the Joey Report

If you just want the new news, skip to the *

Some of my most wonderful friends, my favorite people in the world, live in New York City.  This and all the cultural institutions based here brought me to NYC a few years ago, and I lived in the city for a year and a half.  Around the year mark, I had realized that NYC is not a place I enjoy living, aside from my friends being here.  It’s too crowded, and people give up too much to live in a place that lost what most people come here to find back in the 80s or 90s.  There are cheaper prices and a better quality of life pretty much anywhere else.  One can rarely afford the neat things there are to do here, and when you can actually make it, it’s crowded to capacity.

So…in 2008 I quit a pretty great job, and made plans to move back to California, where I had at least been happy, if a bit lonely.  I have great friends there too, although less of them, and life is pleasant when it is nothing else.  And then…and then…the housing bubble burst.  The economy burst.  The people making money off our money didn’t bother to check if the money was real.  Everyone was afraid, but people still had some money at first.  No one knew exactly what might happen, and the government decided to give our tax dollars to the corporations that got us here.

Quitting that job and moving to California was a huge mistake – I know that, I am in the future too, educational as the future has been.  I tried to make it in California for 10 months, and nothing worked out.  I had two choices: live in Texas with family until I made enough money to do otherwise, or go to NYC and try to throw myself in front of enough money to stall that and give myself time to figure out what to do.   I have a million reasons to avoid Texas, but I’ll leave that alone for now.  I stayed in Texas for a month, and had managed a ticket to NYC for a week.   In that week, I got enough temp work to justify staying for awhile.

I got a tiny room in a shitty apartment, and made enough money temping to squeeze by.  It hasn’t always been pleasant, but being on my own and near friends has been a much better situation for figuring out what my next step in life should be than any alternative.  Now I have figured that next step out.  This time in NYC, as fun as it has been at times, was a delay.  If I had figured out that staying here was the next step, that was a possibility, but I don’t think I’ll ever have anything of my own to call a life in NYC.  The life I want to have includes things living in NYC requires one to sacrifice.  Besides, I’m tired of all these fucking hipsters; even those who like the same things as me feel they ought to be ashamed of them, and I can’t stand that.  I am very much about owning who you are.  Whatever NYC has been in the past, it is now about fitting into other people’s expectations of you to a large degree.  (I’m not talking about people here for school, but the job world and “adult” post-university culture here.)

So the gist is, I am once again moving.  This time in NYC was never going to last long, as I say above, it was a convenient way to delay until I could figure out what I wanted to do.  I figured it out.

* On September 5th, I’m going up to Maine to stay with some friends there and look for a job in Brunswick and Portland.  I can have a life more resembling the one I want up there, and Portland and other places have a great art/music/creative scene.  It’s only 6 hours or so from NYC by car, and living up there is so affordable that I will eventually have one.  So that’s what’s going on.  If you have any connections to help me get a job or place to stay while I look for one in the Portland area especially, let me know.

I need to write and get all these creative ideas out of my head and into the world, and NYC is never going to give me what I need to make that happen.

Strange Encounters of the Texas Kind

Happy New Year!  Do not fret, Faithful Reader; I have stared 2010 deep in the face and I can see nothing there but Better.

One of my family members likes to buy everyone a Fancy Brunch every holiday season, usually at one of those hotels where the Fancy Brunch is about $50 a head.  This time around, it was at the Denton Country Club.  I’ve never been to a country club before, but appropriately enough it was way out in the country.  Anyway, it wasn’t that different from any of the Fancy Brunches of yesteryear, really, aside from one strange occurrence.

I was at the omelet station behind a guy in his 60s or 70s who was dressed in the same getup as most of the folks there (button-down shirt, sweater, blazer, etc).  He orders his omelet, then turns to me and says, “That’s a pretty shirt!”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” I answered with a smile.

He paused a beat, than said, “You’re obviously rich.”  He said it fairly deadpan, with a small (potentially sheepish) grin.

We didn’t talk again, and I didn’t know how sincerely to interpret his statement.  I see three options:

1. The shirt/my outfit looked expensive/designer to him. (It’s a nice shirt, but I got it from Target for under $20).

2. The shirt/my outfit looked cheap to him. (It’s not likely something like that would be mentioned, as this was indeed polite society).

3. My manner seemed strange to him, like a rich person who has lost touch.

Anyway, in honor of People Being Weird, I’m watching the “Twin Peaks” marathon on the Chiller Network today while I apply for jobs in NYC on the internets.  I forgot just how odd Cooper was.  I’m sure all my cover letters today will mention the best pie in the Tri-County Area and a damn fine cup of coffee.

(“In addition to the accomplishments above, the Log Lady says I’m a perfect fit for this position.”)

“Each time my heart is broken it makes me feel more adventurous”

-(Frank O’Hara)

Money and any faith I had in California to deliver me from the troubles of my own creation dried up, and I am staying here in Dallas for the rest of the year.  To go back to the O’Hara poem:

“I’ve got to get out of here. I choose a piece of shawl and my dirtiest suntans. I’ll be back, I’ll re-emerge, defeated, from the valley;” (Meditations in an Emergency)

I’m working on those problems.  Things that have been cheering me up:

-I’ve been listening to this set from the Issue Project Room by guitarist Mary Halvorson with Ingrid Laubrock (saxophone) and Tom Rainey (drums).  The advice at the link is true, repeat listens are definitely rewarding.  Click the down arrow at the right of the embedded player to d/l the mp3.  The first time I listened to this, I put it on to be in the background while I did a lot of other things.  They never got done; I was motionless, staring out the window, totally enraptured until the second listen was over.

-Looking at these photos and reading about Stalin’s Lost Railway is pretty fascinating.  How many projects were put into motion by those in power that have been abandoned, their purpose lost to history, little gems of insanity waiting to be uncovered?  Or unleashed?

-Then there’s this site of photos of abandoned urban spaces – which reminds me of my friend Sean’s show in Canada, photoXplorers.

-and another musical note, here’s a blog of Italian Folk records mp3’d for your convenience.  Awesome.  I am a big fan of people providing us out of print albums.

-finally, if you’re around my age and had cable growing up, you probably loved 120 Minutes on MTV – you know, back when MTV had something to do with music.  Well, enjoy the 120 Minutes archive – I know what I’ll be doing for the next 15 years.

These things I have gathered for you

Beautiful photos and local history of the American west, in Montana I believe.

An awesome radio show/podcast/blog/mp3s of out of print old time records, made by one of the Dust Busters.

Dust Busters’ MySpace.

And another thing…

Being unemployed allows whimsy to grow, and dreams to assume the substance and viscera of reality…

The Bookstore/Passive-Agressive Ratio

The bloom of the rose did falter, and I was, ahem, “Let go.” The glow of my competence could not be borne any longer. I have made a chart of the effects of these unforeseen actions:

BS/PA Chart
Not down to zero, but much improved…