WHAT IS LOVE.

Advice: listen to a great deal of Vivaldi these October mornings; wrap up the day with servings of Leonard Cohen and Sharon Van Etten, and don't be shy on the volume, even with slumbering creatures lurking. yum.

Hey Becca, it's your birthday!

Are we out of liquid aminos? Oh, and it's your birthday.

___

Was it odd watching the 20-year old barista flirt with my wife? No, adorable more than anything. Plus, it’s her birthday and they were bantering well. Also, he added sprinkles to her drink. Thanks for still coming home with me, Countess Becca. You bring me great joy. And sorry, kid. Great taste though. And good coffee.

#presh #I❤️us #sizzling38

GULLIVER.

Nothing makes me feel more like an incredible athlete these days than playing tetherball with children.

OH (A STORY ABOUT THE EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM AND ONE THING THAT MIGHT POSSIBLY BE WRONG WITH IT).

WHAT ARE YOU DOING??!!
I shrieked at him in a hybrid scalding-scolding tone.
Why are you trying to crush that poor little ant?!

Daddy, I was -

I interrupted.
Listen, that little ant is not in our home. It's close to its own home. It's not hurting us, or invading our house, or eating our food. Why are you trying to smash it?

Well Daddy, I was -

I interrupted, out of necessity, because my lesson was not getting through.
Do you remember what hard workers ants are? They are valuable members of our ecosystem and we can learn a lot from them. This little guy here was probably heading home trying to get to his family when you, a big mean giant, almost killed him.

We watched the little fellow skimp along. I felt my son take a breath to try defending himself again, so I moved quickly to block it.

Listen buddy,
I said, not totally unkindly, with just the right mix of educational moment condescension.
We've gotta look out for people and creatures smaller than us, okay? When they're not bothering us, why should we go bothering them?

Okay.
he said.
But I was -

Just please listen.
I said.
Just listen, because this is important. It may be a little ant, but it's not a very kind thing to do to go killing creatures, no matter how small, just for fun, or because they're simply in front of you. Haven't we read enough Dr. Seuss and Far Side for you to know this?

Yeah.
he said.
I wasn't actually trying to kill it. It was walking toward a stream of water and I thought it might drown so I was putting my finger next to it to help it go away from the water so it wouldn't drown.

Oh.
I said.
Oh.

Oh.

Uh-oh.

OAKS PARK.

Two thugs at Oaks Park.

photo: Julie Natiuk ©2015

MATES OF STATE DATE.

We are the nerdliest of nerds. Waiting for our beloved Mates of State to appear after 30 months away...which was also about the last time we were on a date proper. A little coffee and a lot of giddiness will keep us going. Rock and roll. ___ #long2015 #matesofstate #44portland

A photo posted by Joseph Long (@josephivanlong) on Jan 22, 2015 at 8:41pm PST

A lovely evening with @matesofstate and @josephivanlong :)

A photo posted by @countessbecca on Jan 23, 2015 at 12:10am PST

GIANTS BE COOL, MAN.

We frequently watch films in installments,

to stretch out the cinematic bliss. This weekend:

1993's Cool Runnings. The ebullient underdog sports tale falling into the sub-genre of "Jamaican Bobsled Teams Trying to Get Into the Olympics." Also, John Candy's last appearance. Loved that guy. On a jet, on a train, in a car, I will always enjoy his arena-size affability and humor.

One of my money moves as a remote control autocrat is to hit pause right at the height of a scene, such as right before we learn something super important, like if they're going to make the finals or not. My family loathes it, so it's also a good reminder that sometimes it's necessary to be the villain. Darth Vader is so much more interesting than Luke.

We'll watch ONE more scene!
I thundered.
Get it? Got it? Good! After that, it is BEDTIME. STRAIGHT TO BED. Clear? We clear?

Yes General Daddy Sir.
they said, straightfaced little angels in disguise.

The scene finished.

Fie, off to bed!
I shrieked.

But Daddy!
one said.
We didn't have a dance party like you said we would earlier this morning!

I shook my head. But, as Horton said, say what you mean and mean what you say, which is what I had said, and I try to obey my favourite Doctor. So I reluctantly headed over to put on They Might Be Giants' ode to slumber entitled "Bed Bed Bed," which is unbelievably catchy and is the sonic equivalent of a quadruple shot espresso before bed.

"The day is done
The sun is down
The curtains have been drawn
And darkness has descended over everything in town
The covers have been turned and I've got my pajamas on
I've had my fun
I've stretched and yawned and all is said and done
I'm going to bed
Bed bed bed bed bed"

A lovely song, particularly if you can imagine cows playing trumpets while loudly eating milkshakes with little bells on their hooves.

The song finished, sweat dripped; I ordered them to follow the lyrics and obey the song.

But Daddy!
one said.
Can we just listen to Bob Dylan?

No.
I said.
Go to bed.

Okay.
they said.
And tromped off, finally.

Daddy!
one said.
Can you turn the lamp on?

Okay.
I said.

Daddy!
from far off.
Can I have some water?

Sure.
I said.
And got it.

Daddy!
one yelled.
I have to go to the bathroom, can you meet me there?

Fine.
I said.
And waited until I realised he was pretending to sleep.

No!
I said.
You are not sleeping on the toilet tonight.

And headed to the living room to sit on the couch and relax for the first time in fourteen months.

Daddy!
I heard far off as my sitting down was paralyzed, then reversed.
Can I read one book?

No.
I said.
Go to bed.

Daddy?
I heard.
Can I read a stack of books in the morning?

Probably.
I yelled at the top of my lungs.

Daddy?
The faux-angelic voice floated down the hallway.
Can I draw for a little bit?

Maybe I'll put on some Deftones for goodnight lullabyes.

Good night, universe. Hope your weekend has been splendid.

BIRTHDAY #38: ME.

Threw some paint in the wagon. 
A speaker and
some snacks.
Herbie Hancock,
real cool in the autumn breeze on the old roadside;
found a caterpillar, named him Callie.
Happy born day to me.

Christmas song rehearsal on front porch, Run D.M.C.-influenced.

Their new thing is to invite someone to watch them do something - swing, draw, build a castle, etc. - and then try to extort payment:

"Come watch us do this...oh, by the way, you need to pay us a dollar now."

Brilliant. Oh, and go ahead and stick a fiver in my PayPal account if you just glanced at this picture.

BIRTHDAY #38: 1976 "Get Up Offa That Thing."
I learned to love music early on. Probably in the womb, but honestly I don't remember, so don't spend any more dollars on those Baby Bach records. My dad sang and hummed and ate M&Ms while he was driving, so I learned to associate three good things together: music + food + travel. My mom made me learn music stuff and learn about old composers, and take some lessons on the piano. Thank you, (Kathie Huffman!). I have a vivid memory of waiting for one of my sibling's lessons and listening to Judas Priest on my headphones, but that's another story. The person I really credit with my entrance to rock and roll is Brant Reed, who loaned me the soundtracks to Batman and Ghostbusters II on cassette. From there, the floodgates were open, especially with Brant's early assistance getting me mix tapes with the Cars, Tom Petty Poison, and other pre-grunge luminaries. A hop and two skips to Weird Al, Def Leppard, Alannah Myles, and the Beastie Boys from there. Off to the races.
Thanks for the music, world. I started today with Mr. Beethoven's Violin Concerto, Opus 16, and then segued to Mr. James Brown's Get Up Offa That Thing (1976).

Mazel tov, all 

BIRTHDAY #38: 1977 "Lust for Life"
My brother Joshua, five years younger, used to climb tall trees when he was a little boy, and he was much too young to be climbing tall trees, and he would climb these tall trees anyway and frequently fall from four or five hundred feet up, but he learned an incredible lesson from his climbing and falling experiences. Know what that was?
I'm not sure, but definitely ask him. I know he probably learned something valuable, and he also did what he NEEDED to do when he was a young boy, and he followed the call of the wild and the murmur of his heart and the whispering of the tall trees and HE JUST DID IT. The trees were there, and like Hillary and Norgay he climbed them BECAUSE they were there and he NEEDED to do it and thank goodness he survived.
He had a lust for life; for daring life and for loving life, and - oh my goodness...I just realised this fits in perfectly with one of my top songs from 1977: from everybody's fave perpetually-shirtless rocker Iggy Pop and his classic anthem - yep - Lust for Life.
Attack life, people, but gently and respectfully too, kind of like confidently driving the speed limit in the left hand lane for miles at a stretch. Sometimes you gotta just ignore the honking horns and keep cruising. Unless you're the Passenger and you see a tall tree to climb. Then you gotta pull over and climb it.
Peace, universe. Save forests, climb tall trees, and happy birthday to me.
Iggy Pop
Lust for Life

1977

#38: 1978 "Bicycle Race."
I've been working on an invention that is basically a bicycle, but it only has one wheel, so it's more aerodynamic and stuff. Also, I was talking to my daughter a couple days ago and we were bonding over something (bikes?) and I said to her:
You guys are so fun. You and your brother just help make our lives so great. Your mom and I are just the seventh luckiest parents in the world.
I nodded kindly, and gave her a really strong look of affirmation. She processed for a minute, and looked up.
Well...who are the luckiest parents then?
I shrugged:
I don't know. I'm just guessing there's at least seven parents in the world with better children.
She started shaking her head, and then tried to start talking but couldn't finish because she was laughing so hard. Finally, she got through her sentence.
DADDY! That is so MEAN!
I was laughing too. 
I know! 
I said.
I know!
We kept on laughing, and she was laughing, and I was laughing. I just love being around people I can banter with, regardless of age. People who laugh hard. People you can share moments with.
Some songs are like that too: shared moments of humanity that make you start singing along or humming or tapping your foot and you feel the earth's joy start to shoot up all around you. Like Queen's Bicycle Race from 1978, with its crazy tempo changes and exhilarating line. 
I woulda been two.

Queen
Bicycle Race

1978

Happy week ahead, universe.

Mother's Day Weeknd, pt. I

Two of my faves, forever.

People talk about the "...the special bond between mothers and daughters."
I'm a dad, which both contrasts and complements being a mom. 
I'm not a mom. 
But I like moms.

I'm an observer, and a truth-teller, and sometimes I make up stories. 
But first and foremost, a listener and observer.
A special bond between a mother and a daughter?
I can only observe and try to capture a feeling; as opposed to ever experientially feeling what defines that special relationship.

I like moms,
and I like this one. 
She is a super good one, my sister-in-law, buddy, sizzling human; 
super good mom not because of perfection. 

Because of effort,
and because of the love and affection I see poured into interactions with her kids.
Being a mom is about both accepting and fighting frustration and impatience; irritation and anger; 
battling through those things daily and still bringing love, affection, hope. 

And a bright ray to wherever you're at. 

This,
this will be something that will last.
This mom, this daughter.
Something special gonna be there,
forever. 

___

Cousins on Display.

I came across a pack of children, that coincidentally, happened to be gathered in a grouping that was in front of my camera lens, and strangely enough, some of them were looking in my direction.

Those serendipitous and candid moments...

Happy Mom's Day. Here is proof.

A Visual Depiction of the Unattainable Pursuit of Perfection, and How You Can Graze It but Never Hang Onto It.

In Search of Sunshine & Bugs.