From Matt

A buddy of mine had a funny car ride and decided to write stream-of-consciousness to me. I hope he doesn't mind me posting it here...

"I stopped at the Sloatsburgh rest area on 87 to hit up a bathroom and get something caffeinated. I locked my car with my keyless entry. When I got back out the keyless wouldn't unlock the car which is a problem because the key I use only starts the car, it won't open any doors due to old locks and the fact that it is a $3 replacement key I got from the local hardware store instead of Subaru because I did the math and $3<$55ish. So even though I have my keys in my hand I'm locked out. I call AAA. They send a dude over and he essentially coat-hangers (Verbing weirds language) my locks open. This sets off the security system, however since the key doesn't open the locks and the keyless is dead I can't shut off the security system to start the car. After 10 minutes of looking like assholes or thieves depending on your perspective he pulls something out from under my dash moves some shit around and the car starts... yay? he hands me a yellow chip looking thing. We say our goodbyes and he's gone. I stop to get gas at the same rest area. I'm a little worried about having to shut off my car but figure I have to do it eventually. Shut off the car, get gas, turn the key in the ignition, nothing. Shit. So I have the barely english speaking guy at the A-Plus help me roll my car out of the way. He offers to help jump the car and even though I know that won't work I allow him to help because he's just being a really good dude and trying really hard. I call AAA back and say that the service I received has made my situation worse. They say they're sending someone back. I pass the time by trying to get on government watch lists by googling "How to Hot-Wire a Car" on my iPhone. Then something occurs to me. Put the yellow thing back... I spend 10 minutes trying to figure out where the thing goes and eventually I figure it out, no alarms go off and the car starts. I call AAA say "thanks, but no thanks, I'm a man and I fixed my car myself." Off I go, I lost 3 hours.

PS. None of this email has been proofread."

Sankofa again or as usual

I had this fantasy; a ten-second thing like Mayo’s lamp at the end of Hymn-Sing. It went like this:

I walked out of my office at the end of the day and saw a small, black plastic bag on the sidewalk. I picked it up and dropped it in the trash on the corner. Gently but quickly the bag poofed into a black crow. The crow hopped up to the rim of the trashcan, shook her head and ruffled her feathers. She turned to me, eyed me up and down and said, “Thanks!” And then she flew away.

Ideas like these pop into my head on a near-hourly basis. Not useful for a full story or song lyrics but certainly fun to think of. The worst and best part is that I know they are only as real as steam on a coffee cup: there one minute, gone the next and your coffee stays exactly where it is.

But sometimes, the dreams aren’t fun. Sometimes, the cute crow doesn’t say thank you. And worse - these dreams are a lot longer than ten seconds. On the train-tracks of nostalgia, emotions and pictures fly into my head at 150kph. They dig in like ticks, infecting the nearby neurons like wine spilled on paper and even when I’ve cleaned everything up, the stain of angst is left as a marker of my two or three day neurological journey.

It’s a person that triggers it. Always a person. And I get a glimpse of what my life would be like if I had stayed working at Race Rock, or played in that off-Broadway show, or dated that girl. And for the next few days, I could be batting a thousand on the outside and churning fudge on the inside. Maybe admitting it out loud will help it go away. No, not go away, just soften a bit. Because I sort of like it – I mean, it’s a book I didn’t read, a movie I didn’t watch. I empathize with the protagonist because the protagonist is me!

Your life, my life, anyone's life: One story leading into the next. Chapters, verses, rungs on a ladder. “Edges” as Mark Vinci might say. It’s all part of the game.

In the End, an Education

From Scott, I learned to keep it cool, to listen before you speak. Never underestimate the power of an easy smile and a gentle, insane sense of humor to get you past the Lazy Daisy. Yeah, I put him on a pedestal but Instead of standing, he sits with his shirt off, playing his guitar, drawing no more attention to himself than a wind-danced tree branch.

From Tim, I learned to be open to any activity at any time. A run? A sail? A fire outside Roe? It’s all great provided you’re with the right people. What was he about to do before I asked him to drive to Port Henry with me? What was he up to before I was ready to leave the Marina?

From Matt, I had a friend. A ‘other half’ to match my nerdy curiosity, an artist who I look up to endlessly.

From Jane, I learned to be elegant and eloquent. Stick to your principals and work hard. In a world of testosterone and immaturity, a proper cocktail and an intelligent conversation can act as a lighthouse guiding you back to respecting others.

From Peter, I learned that it’s okay to have fun, especially late at night. In fact, fun might be necessary to coincide with amazing work. Watching him through a Canon Vixia HF20, I saw the kind of teacher I wish I had and the kind of teacher I hope to be.

From James, I learned just how hard I’d have to work, just how big I’d have to become, to earn the Last Whistle Dedication. More than a man, he embodies the Dudley spirit every day.

From Ryan, I learned not to sit down. Sitting down lets you fall asleep where standing lets you get the job (all the jobs) done. It’s okay to be amazing; especially when your presence raises everyone around you.

From Tom, I learned to relax. It’s all good. Without him, I would be a spinnaker in a tornado.

From Lauren, I learned to be consistent. If you’re the same person in January that you are in July, everyone can count on you to be true to your word and true to yourself.

From Corey, I learned that all the googling in the world doesn’t hold a candle to strapping the kite to your wrist and figuring it out as you go. Sometimes, you have to get up, get out and go for it.

From Wilbur, I found an oasis in confusion and intensity of working at Camp. Always there in his E-town Castle, ready to take me in.

And from Wendy, I learned how to be a friend. True friends love you unconditionally: the good, bad, and everything in between. It’s hard work, and she makes it look easy.