Filling in the Cracks

Loving most things weathered, my heart has grown fond of our front porch; particularly the stairs.  The creases and cracks and layers of paint that have slowly chipped away reveal hints of a well-worn path to and from our front door.  I think of all the entrances and exits that occurred in the years before we arrived.  I wonder which owner chose what paint color and what inspired the change.  Our front stairs, along with a lot of Ohio streets and roadways took a beating this winter.  I had just sent this picture to the owner of our house letting her know the stairs needed some love when I found this clever solution to cracks and crevices.  Parisian installation and fiber artist Juliana Santacruz Herrera has found a beautiful fix for potholes in Paris.  C'est magnifique.

Make Some Noise

We were playing pool at our favorite dive when our friend asked when was the last time I listened to the Beastie Boys.  Striking question and hard to answer at the moment as the rolodex of memories associated with these guys flipped rapidly through my head.  My older brother introduced them to me.  I must have been nine years old.  One of my first memories was the fifth grade talent show where a few of us girls dressed up like boys and lip synced the song "Girls" only identifying our true selves at the end of the song.  In college,  during a weekend getaway with friends, I discovered the length of "Paul's Boutique" was roughly the amount of time to get me out of Columbus and ease me into the heart of Athens, Ohio.  Smoking cigarettes with all the windows down, I got to know Route 33 while paying close attention to how they dropped science like when Galileo dropped the orange.

So, the other night, our friend let us know about this amazing new video he saw on Comedy Central just before we met up to play pool.  The Beastie Boys have something new coming out and they aired a sneak peek video chock full of cameos.

Check it:

Beastie Boys - Make Some Noise - Free Music Videos - Top Songs

On Good Friday

This album was my soundtrack for at least two years following it's debut.  Most memorable listening was while riding the train from NYC back to Columbus via Cincinnati.  It was after 9/11.  We were all still
scared to fly. I drove with my friend to La Gaurdia to pick up her boyfriend who had been backpacking in Europe for several months. They drove home together in a love frenzy making love stops on the way back to Ohio.  I stayed in New York for several days to visit my friends Benny and Jill who were still together at that point.  It was three months after they moved to New York, I decided at the last minute not to join them on their journey.  I stayed in Columbus, got my first apartment without a boyfriend or roommate.  I chose the path of independence in a city I was getting to know well all over again.

Excerpt from my journal while riding on the train:
"7 October 2001

leaving new york city.  the train feel. smell, touch. air conditioned steel vessel surrounds delayed emotional reactions within the  rush to get wherever it is we are all going.

mad.

the horn blares in movie size while manhattan shrinks to paperback.  lights flicker against the blue turning pink sky.  we stop only moments outside of the realization that I am not on a rooftop in brooklyn.  nor am i in a train departing victoria station.  this is all new.  we depart for the second time."
-skbg, journal, October 2001

Morning Perfect

And just like that, my tendency for flight disappears.  In one moment I am ready to sell everything I own and move to the coast of Belize.  Then, I take a walk in my new neighborhood and I am rich with my surroundings.  I marvel at the bouquet of homes that boast the bulbs they planted last fall. Sprinkled in are homes with porches that would make a city girl swoon.  With each step, I am introduced to new architecture, landscaping and porch miscellany publicizing the habits of the resident.  In a two mile walk, I am transported to California, Oregon, even Germany or France.  These are homes where fairy tales are written, poppies are painted, symphonies composed.

The sun plays with my face as I walk beneath the trees and listen to the birds sing each other their morning glories.  And in that moment, Ohio reminds what beauty this is.