Archiving the Naked Wallet, no. 1

For the next month, when I'm not busy prepping lessons, putting grades in, and trying to think my way through an entirely new classroom management model, I want to make some money. I'm not a millionaire, so I could use some extra spending cash; who couldn't? But this isn't about paying off student loans or saving for the future. This venture isn't an average moneymaking venture. It's a labor of love, a way to turn free time into artistic, positive change - and coins. It's a challenge.

It's a real time, real life game I've decided to play. Because I need this record...

You've been there, seen something you couldn't live without, but that you absolutely had to live without because you couldn't possibly justify spending the money. And you have the money, it's not an ocean liner or a goldplated tiger's paw. It's just – against your principles? It's just too much for what it is. Like spending $10 for a burger at Applebee's. Or buying a bottle of water. Or spending five dollars for a shirt with a bedazzled picture of tap dancing politicians. Your relationship to money, when you have any at all, is complicated, you get it. And, well, that's where I am.

So, for the next month, when I'm not busy working at a real job where I receive a real paycheck and real money which I use to pay real bills, I will be attempting to spin gold out of nothing, out of bad ideas and worse execution, letting you follow long as I catalogue each step. And with this cash, this very real, although somehow seemingly fake money, I will buy The Record. 

It's $80 on Discogs. That's just crazy.

Duggles, I'm coming for you. 

A Biggie

I’ve broken a lot of rules working on this project. They were rules I created for myself, so breaking them is either less terrible than breaking other rules or quite a lot more terrible. It's interesting to me how often we lie to ourselves. Self-deception is a hobby most people I know excel at. We love to paint a picture of ourselves at our best, yet we don't really work to be our best. Now, some of us do – I don't want to seem as though I have no hope, no appreciation – however, there are a lot of us lying to ourselves. We’ll quit the job someday. We will work out. This time, the New Year's resolution will stick. We’ll quit this or that – tomorrow.

I'd said, "I will blog daily, posting three pictures, attempting some semblance of poignant discourse. Self-reflection and insightful meanderings, paired with the reverence of the mundane – an observational humor and wit typically found elsewhere – maybe delivered via haiku or clever comedian." Well, I didn't say it like that, and I certainly haven't done that. I've been busy, to be sure, but I haven't taken the 10 minutes it would take to do this small thing. 

I do feel like I fill up my days to the point of exhaustion. I'm also constantly in demand, whether that demand was self-initiated or not is another story. We had visitors last weekend and lover’s quarrels and chores to do and careers to maintain. It's easy to stay busy, and easy to forget such small things. I do believe that this small thing could be good. It's a scrapbook. It's a journal. It's a way to eulogize the impermanence of each day. It's a memorial to moments. It's personal and it's mine; it's not beholden to others. It's not likable. It's not comment-driven. I suppose someone could comment, but no one really knows this exists.  

So, without further navel-gazing, I will post the necessary photos. I need to post more than three. I may not offer much in the form of commentary. I will say that I went to the final show at Secret Service, watched The Grow Fangs – I really love them – Ray is a hilarious, kind soul, I showed the space to my brother and to Charlie and Monique. I went to Paige’s friends for Thanksgiving, there were really great people there, Paige adores Sara's daughter, Daphne. I really love talking with Billy Noble. And I ate too many deviled eggs. I also grabbed the recipe. 

We showed Jay the city, attending shows at the Jungle Theater and the Children's Theater– they were opposite ends of the spectrum as far as shows go. The Night Alive was dead on arrival. The Jungle Book was well-dressed and professionally playful. We took him to Gay 90s, and I was sick, so Paige was his partner for the evening. Her car was towed later and they had a nice winter walk home. We laughed a lot about it at brunch the next day with Rachel. Brunch at Key’s was amazing, we had fresh baked bread. 

Overall, didn't spend too much time with Charlie, and Alex and Cara slept at our home, but I never saw them. The next day I worked and got a speeding ticket. I'm not sure if I even took any photos. Last night I took my car into Tires Plus. Paige made a wonderful dinner. I went to the YMCA. These things aren't always exciting. Sometimes days are just days. Today was OK. Some good things, some bad things, but overall it was a pretty good day. I'm on my way home now, and I have a lot to do tonight. But one thing I will do is post this.

UPDATE: I didn’t post it. 

First snow of 2015, Duluth House - old Pearadox - Minneapolis. 11/26/2015

A lovely lunch with a lovely lady at Manny's Steakhouse, downtown Minneapolis. 

Jay fixes his hair with a mirror's help.

A stranger at CVS tries to fix her electronic car keys with our help.

We took him to Betty Danger's, jewel of Nordeast. 

And Gay 90's' dick of downtown. 

I went home sick. Bob and David nursed me.

Prototype of an attempted playing card mask.

Something stolen from a weather website.

three days? that means nine pictures

It's been a few days, and I'm not sure what to say. It's always been hard for me to follow through – and I guess I am, in a way, but I am also just doing what I can...

I walked all over town. It was nice. I think it's a very intimate way to experience your city. I took this picture because I love Kater. Some street artists resonate more than others.

I took this shot outside of Mortimer's – page and I had pizza there for lunch – I love the place; it's a dive with a certain class, a certain understanding of its clientele and place. Refreshing in a world of brass and polished concrete reinvention.

I ended the night at Ropey's Tavern - it was beautiful – lots of fun with old friends. Woke up and headed home...

before I begin a new day

I'm not sure which pictures I will share for this post; I haven't looked at them. I do want to do this before I begin my day – a new day – with new pictures. Yesterday was okay. I miss so many people. Leslie, I miss you.

In this first photo a student hangs a wreath. His family – his grandfather? – owns a Christmas tree farm. Is "farm" the right word to use? I'm not sure. 

There are three notable things about this photo – the community and spirit, of course, but also that we had to take the wreath down just a few hours later. We move out of these cabins almost every weekend, and cannot keep anything on the walls or at our desks. The desks are collapsible too and find themselves placed in storage for the weekend. It's minimalist to a fault; I do not feel like I have a classroom. I cannot keep a plant, for example, but we make it work. 

The last thing worth noting is that Paige and I had been discussing whether or not to buy a Christmas tree – a real, dead tree – to put in our home. I've never really been a Christmas tree person, and the next day I talked with someone who isn't just a Christmas tree person, but has real Christmas tree ties. I suppose it could be a sign. A pine fresh sign.

The wreath was hung in celebration. We weren't just celebrating the holidays, we were celebrating Presentation Day. When presentations happen, there is a festive feeling in the air. Cookies are bought and lemonade is served and students beam with confidence. One student shared his love for artist John Kenn Mortensen. Aping Mortensen's style, he drew his own sticky monsters and sold them for a quarter apiece. He made a few dollars too. I loved to watch him navigate the attention. He's pretty good! 

Tibet Kitchen isn't where my night ended, but it might be sometime. It's my new favorite spot in the city. It's close to me, they have great food, and one of the best drink deals in town. It's 2-4-1's seven days a week from four till eight. It's the kind of place that doesn't seem to judge or care. Part dive bar, part neglected room at a house party where the anxious and outcast gather to mumble awkwardly and shift their eyes. I love it.

After Tibet, we sat in the hot tub at the YMCA and headed home to bed. It was all very relaxing.

eleven days // three

So my thought is that I will post three photos of the day, talking about each, for the next 11 days. It's been a while since I've used this blog, and it will be nice to try again.

It was a great day, but I didn't start taking photos until the evening. This first photo is of a lobster tank at Stella's. We had white wine and oysters, like they did in Giovanni's Room. James Baldwin wrote an amazing story about the walls we build around ourselves, and I was happy to ask for everything – including the Cognac. They didn't have it. However, the white wine flowed.

The second photo I've chosen is a photo of Paige taken through the white wine glass. I decided to squeeze a lemon wedge into the wine, and I like to think that I'm the first person who's ever done this. I doubt it, but it's nice to pretend.

My last photo for the evening is of a Chex box. Joan delivered the homemade mix to our show at the Hexagon, and it's helping me make it through cleaning the kitchen. I'm listing to music – Fuck Buttons' Slow Focus – and, the truth is, I love everything right now. Including Paige – she's kissing me on the cheek!

Montessori Stories #1

June 28:

While telling them a story about how Stinky Pete, dressed as a goblin, stole the lightning from the Juneau skies, and Scooby Doo brought it home, sticking Pete back into the anchorage cell he escaped from, I answered their questions about his treatment upon reentry to prison:


“Did they hit him and stuff, like this?” she shakes a plastic shovel.

“No, they didn’t, because of the Geneva Convention.”

I went inside and looked it up; I was right, in a way, I guess. Amazing, the things remembered sometimes. Although it seems that the Conventions exist exclusively for wartime prisoners. But, really, if Stinky Pete dresses as a goblin to thieve an explosive part of the natural world and the Borough of Juneau needs to call in a dog and some stoners to get it back, we’re somewhere on the other side of war.

The 8th Amendment affords prisoner’s the right to a minimum standard of living, free from ‘cruel and unusual’ punishment. Learning and growing.

hold the phone!

so, haven't blogged for a hot (andrew dice clay HOTT!) minute...

here's what i have to say:

i'm setting the sound for incoming text messages on my new phone; now, when you've got something quick to say to me, i'll hear craig finn say, "stay positive!"

why? good question! let me tell you...

i really, really dislike the hold steady. but who can't get behind those two words, "stay positive"? i mean, really? who?

i do need to stay positive and one surefire way to do that is to remind myself that there are things i hate in the world. craig finn's 5am-kermit-thee-frog laced tone is - for sure - one of those things...

but more important than being reminded that i hate things is being reminded that i can and - so what? they can exist and i can do my thing which is likely hated by someone. live and let live and thrive.

that man's voice is good for that last part in particular because i have several close friends - friends i'm not afraid to say i love - who really, really like that band and, what - should i dislike them? no way!

"hey, anthony - i love you - but only like 99%! it's just that, well - you're into craig finn and i can't get behind that..."

opinions are the spice of this shit...and in this display of technological tolerance i will be able to remind myself that i am to let things go; craig finn certainly doesn't care what i'm about!