Monday, August 31, 2009
Tedy Bruschi Retires
"I've coached a lot of great players, and Tedy is up there with all of them . . . above them," said Belichick, who remarked that Bruschi always did the right thing on and off the field. "He's the epitome of everything you would want in a football player . . . I don't think I've ever seen a player do what he's done.
"How do I sum it up? How do I feel about Tedy Bruschi in five seconds? He's a perfect player. He's helped create a tradition here we're all proud of. He's a perfect player. He's a perfect player."
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
My First Motorcycle
wow... this takes me back. The Admiral posted pics on his Facebook page of my first motorcycle, as it is now his & he is restoring it. My Dad's 1975 Suzuki TS-250 Savage. Awesome. An offroad / on-road hybrid. VERY fond memories of zipping around South Windsor on it, riding it to work at The Mill on the River, and cruising through the orchards behind Orchard Hill School. Great, great stuff.... The one I learned to ride on. 
Eric is psyched to start getting the TS-250 running in his spare time. It won't be the smoke that brings tears to my eyes.
Soon to be back on the road. 1975 Suzuki TS-250 "Savage". It has a very special history for me and will clean up very nicely. "T" is for Thomas and the "S" is for Stanley. I call it "Gus".
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Storms Destroy Parts of Central Park
park, included pin oaks, American elms and tulip trees dating to the turn of the last century.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
'Who is He'?'
Milo just dedicated this song to me & my unborne child. The Bill Withers classic, "Who is he? And what is he to you?" Umm... Your father! So great... Milo rules & I had a very fun evening, including this from-the-stage shout-out to me & child from the incomparable Milo Z.
and Milo just posted on my Facebook page: "Milo Z Funk
"What Is A Man?"
A man carries cash. A man looks out for those around him — woman, friend, stranger. A man can cook eggs. A man can always find something good to watch on television. A man makes things — a rock wall, a table, the tuition money. Or he rebuilds — engines, watches, fortunes. He passes along expertise, one man to the next. Know-how survives him. This is immortality. A man can speak to dogs. A man fantasizes that kung fu lives deep inside him somewhere. A man knows how to sneak a look at cleavage and doesn't care if he gets busted once in a while. A man is good at his job. Not his work, not his avocation, not his hobby. Not his career. His job. It doesn't matter what his job is, because if a man doesn't like his job, he gets a new one.
A man can look you up and down and figure some things out. Before you say a word, he makes you. From your suitcase, from your watch, from your posture. A man infers.
A man owns up. That's why Mark McGwire is not a man. A man grasps his mistakes. He lays claim to who he is, and what he was, whether he likes them or not.
Some mistakes, though, he lets pass if no one notices. Like dropping the steak in the dirt.
A man loves the human body, the revelation of nakedness. He loves the sight of the pale breast, the physics of the human skeleton, the alternating current of the flesh. He is thrilled by the snatch, by the wrist, the sight of a bare shoulder. He likes the crease of a bent knee. When his woman bends to pick up her underwear, he feels that thrum that only a man can feel.
A man doesn't point out that he did the dishes.
A man looks out for children. Makes them stand behind him.
A man knows how to bust balls.
A man has had liquor enough in his life that he can order a drink without sounding breathless, clueless, or obtuse. When he doesn't want to think, he orders bourbon or something on tap.
Never the sauvignon blanc.
A man welcomes the coming of age. It frees him. It allows him to assume the upper hand and teaches him when to step aside.
Maybe he never has, and maybe he never will, but a man figures he can knock someone, somewhere, on his ass.
He does not rely on rationalizations or explanations. He doesn't winnow, winnow, winnow until truths can be humbly categorized, or intellectualized, until behavior can be written off with an explanation. He doesn't see himself lost in some great maw of humanity, some grand sweep. That's the liberal thread; it's why men won't line up as liberals.
A man gets the door. Without thinking.
He stops traffic when he must.
A man resists formulations, questions belief, embraces ambiguity without making a fetish out of it. A man revisits his beliefs. Continually. That's why men won't forever line up with conservatives, either.
A man knows his tools and how to use them — just the ones he needs. Knows which saw is for what, how to find the stud, when to use galvanized nails.
A miter saw, incidentally, is the kind that sits on a table, has a circular blade, and is used for cutting at precise angles. Very satisfying saw.
A man knows how to lose an afternoon. Drinking, playing Grand Theft Auto, driving aimlessly, shooting pool.
He knows how to lose a month, also.
A man listens, and that's how he argues. He crafts opinions. He can pound the table, take the floor. It's not that he must. It's that he can.
A man is comfortable being alone. Loves being alone, actually. He sleeps.
Or he stands watch. He interrupts trouble. This is the state policeman. This is the poet. Men, both of them.
A man loves driving alone most of all.
Style — a man has that. No matter how eccentric that style is, it is uncontrived. It's a set of rules.
He understands the basic mechanics of the planet. Or he can close one eye, look up at the sun, and tell you what time of day it is. Or where north is. He can tell you where you might find something to eat or where the fish run. He understands electricity or the internal-combustion engine, the mechanics of flight or how to figure a pitcher's ERA.
A man does not know everything. He doesn't try. He likes what other men know.
A man can tell you he was wrong. That he did wrong. That he planned to. He can tell you when he is lost. He can apologize, even if sometimes it's just to put an end to the bickering.
A man does not wither at the thought of dancing. But it is generally to be avoided.
A man watches. Sometimes he goes and sits at an auction knowing he won't spend a dime, witnessing the temptation and the maneuvering of others. Sometimes he stands on the street corner watching stuff. This is not about quietude so much as collection. It is not about meditation so much as considering. A man refracts his vision and gains acuity. This serves him in every way. No one taught him this — to be quiet, to cipher, to watch. In this way, in these moments, the man is like a zoo animal: both captive and free. You cannot take your eyes off a man when he is like that. You shouldn't. The hell if you know what he is thinking, who he is, or what he will do next.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Chickenfoot!
Birthday gift from The Wyfe. Awesome. Sammy is wearing a very faded OU812 t-shirt. Well played, my friend, well played...
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
Funky, Funky
Funky, Funky
Originally uploaded by Guzilla
"Dat's gonna be a funky chile!"
A Funky Chile
New Orleans funk legend George Porter Jr. blessed our baby. Dat's gonna be a funky chile...
Such a night...
Wow.... That was fun. Great group and incredible music. Saw Anders Osborne & Porter, Batiste & Stolz on a boat around Manhattan. With great people. Truly spectacular....
Thank you Matt! What a lovely birthday gift...
Thursday, August 13, 2009
RIP - Les Paul
The Pod People
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Birthday Dinner
With surprise guests! Had a lovely dinnner at El Quijote, a Spanish restaurant right under the Hotel Chelsea that has been around since 1930. El Quijote even won an award from the Minister of Spain proclaiming it the best Spanish restaurant outside of Spain. Thanks Wyfe!
Baby Booties!
Beloved brother & sister-in-law John & Denise sent us these booties knitted by Denise. One pair are green with... What else? "Li'l Gators" and the others have... Wait for it... The Polish flag & a Polish eagle!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH! Truly an incredible gift...
Special Birthday Breakfast!
The Wyfe made me a special birthday breakfast of mini-bagels, bacon, mango, strawberries & coffee. Yay!
Sunday, August 09, 2009
Broadcasting
Live from the American Hotel in Sag Harbor. Great brunch with killer Bloody Marys, wonderful oysters & a legendary lobster BLT. Delicious and Peter picked up the tab!
