The following note was zipped off to somebody, now I'm thinking Marina Reiter since everyone else I can think it applicable is listed within. The show I hoped to get didn't come through until the following September. I enjoyed the show, had a great crowd of friends at the meet and greet, but sold nothing.
Yes, I mean no. It's not a confirmed done deal, but as we were all standing at the CP Metro, Dana said it was as good as a done deal. She said this with confidence. Late, it was after one when we left. In bed by two. I was up at five. Awoke from bizarre nightmare, couldn't get back to sleep.
I too, am energized, given the fact that I am dragging butt. My head feels like it NEEDS to explode for clarity and relief, et cetera. No energy to suffer Georgetown tonight, sorry. Inertia will keep me in studio working, but it's pretty nasty out there. Was sleeting about mid-day. Bought some varnish today, some paint, and a few more canvases.
Hope to hear from Sesow soon. If not, I'll be seeing Dana probably Wednesday to pick up paintings. I can't believe I bought that second one. One for Sue. One for me. Poor for the holidays. Scratch our tentative holiday getaway to Massachusetts.
Date: Mon Aug 2, 1999 11:19:11 AM America/New_York
Well, you SHOULD get invited for the Annual Summer Wind event, Karen! Let's tell Sue to tell Skip this just must happen. You are the only guest, to my recollection besides us, to have been invited more than once during the photographed years! Did you know that? I haven't heard any fresh plans, but Skip has put the whole thing off to September because Sue told him we'd be gone TWO weekends in August. But when I heard that the crabfeast was scheduled for August 7th, I told Sue we'd truncate our vacation by a day or two so we wouldn't miss sharing crabs with Grace & Karen (having been scheduled to be on Fripp Island SC August 7-15). Now it seems like this whole summer has gone whacky with crumpled plans and the sort (remember the Fells Point gig?). Alas, we should definitely be in South Carolina on the 14th, but how about sometime in the last half of this month?
Looking ahead for us, in this always busy favorite month of mine, Sunday September 5 and Saturday September 18 are already booked for some short daytripping out of town. And I think Cap'n Bafalis is eyeing September as well. That first year we went, in 1995, remember, when our friend Jack and your sister went it was rather chilly on a Sunday afternoon, but it was still loads of fun even with Char in absentia.
I don't suppose we will host our annual September backyard feast this year after last year's fiasco with the boys in the hood crashing ithe late hours and resulting in my brand new camera getting swiped, but I dunno yet. Last year's was sort of impromptu, and...
Well thanks for your sweet note KS. Miss you and hope we find some nice afternoon to get crabby together very soon...
Sorry for the delay with the 4th picture, but I have Anna. That should say it all.
Please, please come on down to Fripp and be with this part of your family for Thanksgiving. We would LOVE it. You answered before I had a chance to ask if you could ride as far as I-95 with Sue, now I know she has already left, but come on downnothing like impromptu fun and food together.
Love and Happy Thanksgiving to you, hope it is here!
Thanks Maude for identifying those folks. It means a lot that you're helping me on this. I trust you've seen the fourth picture in the batch, and didn't quit prematurely. I haven't received any mail on that one. There are three clarifications I need. The two white hairs tic tac toeing Kitty, and Mr. Mayfield's first name...actually Francis is on the left. Is that Beth on the right? Current last names? As for copies, give me some time, and I'll have reproduce some of the best shots and make a gift of them to you, please. My photos are all so much in gross disorder at this moment, but 1999 should finally bring me some peace in that area. They are all packed away in 11 beautiful photo boxes years and themes all mixed together without rhyme or reason, except for the some more recent stacks I've now LABELED AND SCANNED (did some of THAT while on Fripp) not even in a box yet but stacked along the shelf waiting for a box to empty so they can move in! About ten percent of my archives have been labeled but probably only a tenth of that have been also scanned, so no doubt I've got my work cut out for me.
At my word, I'll make you some nifty enlargements, but you know the web (and a CD-ROM) is where I'm taking all this, God willing. When that time arrives, when the bulk of my work is online, it will be very exciting to have the scattered family come together for community spirit with pictures and other resources on ourselves so that we can indeed once again KNOW that we are FAM-uh-LEE...(my own acute sense of post-boyhood alienation is speaking here).
Saw the gastroenterologist today. She was helpful and encouraging. Next Monday I have blood work and small bowel x-rays to help weed out the possibilities causing my distress. In all, she seemed confident we can address these without alarm. My vitals are still pretty good, despite the weight. I'll let you know more as news filters in through the chain of command.
How are you two feeling these days? Sue's now in Georgia. I'm catching up on work now that we are FINALLY past the connectivity issues I hope. Would trade diamonds to be on Fripp with the most delightful nest of my family for another sublime share of David & Maudie's famous lowlander hospitality, but as it is I will entertain an acquaintance and his new girl on Thanksgiving here at the Dollhouse.
So here's wishing all of you a splendid holiday, wherever you are.
Hey Laura, although I had no problem opening with the previous two graphics you sent me, this most recent one, SKELETONS.BMP would not parse for Adobe Photoshop 4.0. Do you have any other more cooperative save options available to you?
Today is Sue's birthday. Mine was two weeks ago. Our 12th wedding anniversary fell two weeks prior on the 13th, so this is truly our most favorite time of the year, and despite not being raised a Jew, I certainly give a nod to Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, at least in passing. We are driving to southern Maryland to a bayside crabhouse with friends this afternoon. Tomorrow we are having a small backyard gathering to roast a few birds. If you and Gary are interested in metroing into DC, we live a mere block from the Stadium-Armory metro station in the pink house at 109 Eighteenth Street, SE. We'd love to see you guys.
Did you ever get that homejob you were aiming for? My web design/Internet consulting business is finally taking off. High hopes for a real income may finally be paying off the piper, and that piper is me. My own two sites have not grown much since we last chatted as I've been so busy with business concerns. We've moved the studio down to the basement and have taken on a tenant for the other upstairs bedroom, formerly known as the Computer Room. I've known Peter for a decade, so while he's no stranger, we are finally able to stand each other's company after years of feigned consternation at the mere reputation of the other. He is currently looking for a job after leaving American University after six years of work towards his BA in Literature. Meanwhile he's putting in time at the Mac trying to prove himself worthy of support staff status should the business truly take off.
So that's our story. I know this is short notice, but I do hope you guys can put aside any possible fears I've encountered in most suburbanites of the "city" and drop on by to see us. If not, we'll catch you down the road. Take it easy.
Thanks for all the little notes you've wafted down this way lately. Read them, bookmarked accordingly, grinned when our own thoughts have been replicated in the "real" press, et cetera. Been busy finishing off the A&F site. Now I move into the promotion and maintenance phase. A six-month contract. I expect that the Always & Forever site will pay a few dividends. At least, there's yurnover, therefore uopdates, although I'm throwing in two hours of updates a month in the $55/month contract. Sue's going out to Hector's farm today to load AOL on his Performa out there, and also to begin formulating his farm site by gathering up horse pics.
News. Peter Burris is moving into the Dollhouse basement next weekend for a season or two, the Sunday following my 42th birthday. Yes, happy and all that. We'll be hosting a few a quiet gathering after work on Friday. Blumstein celebrates his last day at Columbia Research on the same night. He hasn't responded to my E-mail inviting him and Allie over, but I reckon he might have other celebrationary options up his sleeve. We still haven't talked since that night of the pokerfaced airconditioning mishap a month ago.
We plan to throw a lot of cash and sweat at the basement as you've already been made aware. Timing is gonna be tight to get all the damned ducks in a row, but everybody involved is psyched to making it work, and so Peter might be camping out for a few days or a week until we cut the ribbon. This has all been rather sudden. A year ago I would have never dreamed that PHB would welcome or be welcomed in this house on this sort of long-term familiar basis.
Time does tend to change our perspectives for better AND worse, n'est pas? Karen may have landed us a huge trucking company account, but it won't kick in until late October as the owner puts the finishing touches on a multimillion dollar startup company. It's not in the basket yet, but is almost a sure thing, as he's an ex-and-wouldbe-current beau. She's really excited about her new role as GSIS sales rep. So are we. And best of all, she's no mirror mashed maniac like the rest of us. She's a levelheaded bubbly sort, who just has too many potential contacts to not exploit. So we've all stepped up to the plate looking for that fat pitch down the middle.
By the way, Karen gave Pitch a major bitching over that condescending kissoff note he wrote me, from her own volition. She told Sue about it later. Pitch had CC'd the note to her. Apparently she read it the same way I did. Sue's often characterized Karen as not being too awfully smart. I haven't been around her that much, but she continues to impress me with her downhome country wisdom. She's nobody's fool. She loves Sue, and is always cratcheting Hector about undervaluing Sue. And her mother loves me, in Karen's words. Now isn't that just gravy for an old roast like me. We have suddenly found ourselves bright-eyed and bushy-butted, primed for history, the feast.
Gabriel, forgive me for not getting back to you sooner. My move and details yet unresolved from my mother's estate have not left me with any free time. Karen told me some of the avenues you were considering and I wanted to pass along my recommendations. Congratulations on securing the Always & Forever account.
If you have already targeted the types of businesses you would like to draft web sites for then you only need to decide the geographic area you will develop. I would recommend soliciting a telemarketer, paying minimum wage and a percentage of new businesses signed up. The initial investment is minimal and well worth the return. The person you hire can work out of your home. Have your phone salesperson pitch your services to the businesses you have targeted being careful to contact the appropriate people inside the companies you contact.
Karen tells me you have a brochure. Mail out your brochures to contacts your telemarketer uncovers or send out a blanket mailing to the businesses you have targeted along with a personal letter addressed to the decision maker. Both approaches are bound to bring in business.
You are not the sales type, as you have said, so I would have Sue make the office calls. Her personable style will help sell your services. If business picks up then you can hire an outside sales rep to work on a percentage of sales and service. It sounds pretty basic and I believe it is. Bringing in initial business will happen with these efforts. The quality of service and the product you bring to the marketplace will determine your ultimate success. Follow-up is the key Gabriel and I encourage you to think about how you will approach customer service. It is the key to long term success.
Peter, our new tenant, web staffmember, is hosting his girlfriend Michelle who’s flying in from Purdue University that weekend, and as befits the season, are planning a Sunday afternoon bird roast, and we’d love to have you.
Hope some of what I have offered proves beneficial. I wish you and Sue the best of luck as you pursue your goals. Very respectfully,
Thanks Pitch for your business advice. Of course your plan of action is a very good one. It is certainly my loss that we never got the chance to seriously talk without all the distractions. I'm sure I would have liked to have collaborated with you.
Thanks again Pitch for easing into a rather strange crowd gathered last Friday night, and not missing a beat. Your salsa was a killer the next day after having a chance to stew in its own cold juices a while longer. I indeed felt the sting, and most of my buds are half-dead from years of palate abuse. And many kudos for manning the grill. Everything was fabulous
Len Bracken's number, if'n you're still interested, is 301-xxx-xxxx. He's a decent enough fellow, even if his politics are more than a bit twisted. And he is definitely a true believer in these health derivatives, conjures, and whatnots...
Date: Sun Oct 5, 1997 5:49:14 PM
Gabe, I honestly did not think your friends were strange. Different maybe, but then, we are all different. Karen and I had a wonderful time and I am glad we could add to the festivities. Birthdays are fun and yours was no exception.
We will hope for an invite next year and if you decide to throw something for Sue, please count us in. Regards, Pitch
Well Pitch & KarenSaturday's Sue's birthday, October 11. We're thinking of an early Saturday afternoon pitch to the shore for crabs & shrimpers. Inviting Sherri. And of course, Mom. Are you guys up to join us?
Peter, our new tenant, web staffmember, is hosting his girlfriend Michelle who's flying in from Purdue University that weekend, and as befits the season, are planning a Sunday afternoon bird roast, and we'd love to have you.
This is not an either/or situation for us. We will probably do both. And we'd love to have y'all join us for either or both. Lemme know.
Hello charmer, just browsing by, saw Jersey Jam winking at the crowds, and thought I'd make a pass. I too sit at my computer until I drop beneath it. However, I rarely swing by the AOL corridors these days since moving up to the "true" Internet services, but I will never sandbag my favorite online service. I've been a member since 1992, those early days when AOL™ boasted a mere quarter million subscribers, and trailed both Compuserve and Prodigy in size, maybe not in sheer voluptuousness of form as she was thin and but in ease of use she came and she conquered...
I shove quite a mouthful of bits and bytes of writing to friends across the Net, but would love to include you in the Fatz Bullwinkle inner circle. I am cc'ing this note to another mailbox in order to keep my files all together, and also to give you another, more accessible address to reach me should you find me worthy of your interest. You know, I've written to maybe a half dozen folks on the cold like this and only one other person responded, but to paraphrase your own sassy quote, "Too much of a bad thing, can't be all bad..." so I'm taking the plunge again. Just consider this the early stages of a dirty flirt. Remember, the words's the bird, and the bird's the word. Elephants need to splish splash, too.
Married to my best friend, the financial manager in a consulting firm here in DC. Most people I know consider me a whacked out genius just waiting to happen, or just a big blowhard of nothing not worth the snot in the nostrils of a sick stampede. Not much to show for the former yet, but I keep plucky by mudwrestling with my Macintosh 8500/120 building a multimedia web site dedicated to the arts and the social conscience. Am still in the beginning stages, although I also have a few homepages scattered around the GeoCities scene, I'll surely share with you, if we build this E-mail bridge you've inspired. I too am a bit hefty at 270 lbs, seventy-three inches tall, with a story to rattle the walls of ten thousand great novelists. Yes, my wife Sue and I dig elephants and moose, hence my handle, although she's actually more of a horse lover with grand intentions, although of late, she's traded the horse saddle for a Macsaddle, as we race to build this site together, she with financial and OS technical skills while I measure in with graphical creative and internet support strengths. What's your specialty, wonder woman?
I'll cut this short since I have no way of knowing if you will respond, but I do fancy a flowing and fabulous, highly delicious mind and body. Let's find a way to close the gap between your town and mine with the language we both know how to use, the language of fat and fab, and lots of gab...
Yeah, I read about the code, haven't used it either, or have I? Wait a minute, seems I did, but it flubbed, or no, I found a page that linked it, but my viewer did not register the change, yes that's it, and I never dwaddled around trying to find out why.
Do you have to put in a full day today? The 8500 is in the shop. They ordered a new logic board which will be delivered on Monday. Hopefully that fixes it, and by the middle of NEXT week I'll be busying reloading software into the bubba box in native POWERMAC CODE.
Left foot has swollen up like an elephant's tootsie, but I'm hobbling around pretty good, yet without stamina. Upstairs, downstairs both feet give out in short order, and I don't want to aggravate too much these poor dogs with 265 pounds of brute force hunkering down onto them one step at a time. No red streaks up my calf, no hint of internal bleeding or other catastrophic parlay.
Woke from a bizarre dream this morning. Starts with Sue and I seemingly younger, she pregnant and bulging, me tattooed and as rich in ugly righteousness as I put to the camera today, strolling into a staid smalltown church of about forty people in the middle of the service. The whole batch of them stop their hymnsinging to turn and stare like idiots in the breeze. We sit sheepishly at the very back in a section of those common metal fold-out chairs behind the last pew although there is plenty of room in the the pews, but why make presumptions?
The stark surroundings of the church prompt me in the dream to question Sue in self-conscious whisper if this were indeed a Methodist church (Sue's heritage. I was raised primarily in a High Episcopalean diocese.). I looked around and saw that the pews were liberally integrated. Several Negro faces. Several Asian faces. Maybe even a Hispanic face. I was counting, just noticing the rainbow. All were visibly shocked by our arrival. I checked for dress code violations. Several men were without jacket, just short sleeves and ties, just as I was wearing, but none sported tattooes of course.
Perhaps it was only the extreme tardiness of our intrusion, for the service soon ended, the offering plates passed. I noticed I was carrying a fistful of change in my hand and as I dropped it into the plate the jingle of coin skirting over coin was long and impressive to several who were charting our every blink. The offering was the last event of the service, and since we were in the back of the church right next to the door, gawking folk were beginning to file past us with oooohs and aaaahs at the clink clink of what seemed an endless stream of coins dropping from my closed fist.
I know this kind of dream. I never win. This is the eternal chase, one confrontation after another with no clear resolution. I am never fast enough to fully escape nor fast enough to catch a culprit when in a rare twist I am in pursuit of them. A variation on the roadrunner and coyote theme no doubt. Thousands of these futile dreamchase scenes have logged in my head over the years, childhood and adult. The best resolution is simply to wake up. And I did. But the feelings I felt in protecting a pregnant Sue were quite warm and fuzzy. I was particularly touched by that portion of the dream...
The first to speak was a black man that I had to look up to see, although I recognized the voice, and then the face as the wizened but genteel man who played the boss in the fact-checking department of a big publishing house on the shortlived Herman's Head sitcom, a black man, who simply said to me, "Hello Gabriel, it's good to see you here."
It was at this point that I knew that this was not the beginning of the dream at all because prior to the church scene, this black man (wish I could remember his name on Herman's Head, or better yet his real name, but only Bernard comes to mind, and uh, that's my neighbor Chisley's given) had greeted me as the principal in a typical highschool scenario as I registered there.
Geez, back in highschool, but married with pregancy, seeking refuge in a bland Methodist culture...a wacky dream, but it doesn't end here. After this first greeting, my polite smile, a knowing nod, I am still cha-chinging coins but finally empty my palm just as some other black man comes dashing through the foyer door to where I am now standing with a shout directed straight into my face, "Now I KNOW God made Jesus a white man!"
I take this in, and squinch up my face before retorting, "No, Jesus was a Jew in diapers." Everyone in the now-crowded foyer hushed and turned the phrase over in their minds. I stared straight at Herman's boss, principal and deacon one might suppose, as he repeated it out loud with full affirmation, and I feel welcomed at last, and the dream then shoots to a pool scene. By the way, the Herman's head dude is not the preacher. A white man of no consequence suited up in that role, but his was a nearly silent part in the dream, but obviously this other character was the center of respect in this exchange.
The pool scene was a drag. Outsiders, insiders, debutantes, jocks, nerds, inepts, me and a preggy goodlooking Sue slippery and machiavellian in god-issued trunks and bikinis. The pool was huge, larger than most but certainly no football field. Positioning, bravado, and social powerplay the only game in town. Kids I recalled now from a quickscan of the schoolyard when I'd signed up earlier just before the church scene were all here. There were a series of poolwater confrontations in the dream, but none I recall clearly except the last one, when a secondary member, maybe third or fourth lieutenent down the dominant male rich kid insider's hierarchy suddenly announced he was well on his way to notching Sue, and there was nothing I could do about it because she'd agreed to swim as his partner in the"big race".
I knew it was time to wake up. I know this kind of dream. I never win. This is the eternal chase, one confrontation after another with no clear resolution. I am never fast enough to fully escape nor fast enough to catch a culprit when in a rare twist I am in pursuit of them. A variation on the roadrunner and coyote theme no doubt. Thousands of these futile dreamchase scenes have logged in my head over the years, childhood and adult. The best resolution is simply to wake up. And I did. But the feelings I felt in protecting a pregnant Sue were quite warm and fuzzy. I was particularly touched by that portion of the dream...
I do love her even if I am sterile and next to talentless, without money, a job, a future, a backup plan, well actually all I have are plans. Why she loves me is still the mystery dance my dreams have not revealed...
Hey Space, been in a whirl, can't seem to get enough done to satisfy myself, or others who don't seem to know what it is I'm doing, not that I'm too complicated to figure out. Guess I'm gonna have to make a decision here real soon about BBM.
How is it with you, Space? Do you take your work home with you, or are you indeed a clockpuncher with the grand psychological effect that at the end of the shift, you've done all you were supposed to do, no carryover, no related stress. Both Sue and I live lives seasoned by the neverending pile of things to do at the worklevel that relaxation rarely is anything but an already defeated attempt at escape. But it is NOT escape because tomorrow will bring the same piles of unfinished business, and piles more today will plunge through the turnstile. And so the psychological expense of always dragging a larger burden today than yesterday will take its toll. This is my general psychology. It is not Sue's, but the bastardization of standard office practices, some beneficial to her but most of them arbitrary and despotic tugs from boss millionaire unable to stay on budget keep her strings taut with anxiety as financial manager of the hired guns lobby she has been at for nine years.
Anywaze, there just don't seem to be enough hours in the day, and enough of me to go around.
Space, just got back into DC ourselves after a quick whirl of that peachie keen homestate of Georgia. I was knocked out and loaded after 48 hours of no sleep when I arrived which, of course, immediately led to fights with Sue & my Mother the first hour. Another 12 hours and I was nearly falling down punch drunk (the metaphor, not the liquid) but still staggering around as everybody did the Christmas thing two days early, and all I wanted was a place to crash. Spent some quality time with sister & her family. Her husband's a merchant marine. Oh yeah, you might recall that from my descriptions during last summer's tragedy. Clyde finally has that damned magazine job which lasted three dog nights and nine lives of a cat, and I still don't think it'll ever go to press in its current form because he still thinks he can swashbuckle into a printer and bypass the service bureau niche (of course saving him bucks!) Not a chance, but he has never gained sight of the four-color process and the technology shifts going on in the fieeeeeeld. After I thumbed thru the job with him, we hardly spoke again that trip, although he seemed genuinely thrilled with the layout. Glad that mess is behind me....
Hardworking breadwinner comes home from the office night after night, plops down in front of the television set, and pops open a beer (or pours self a series of wine anesthesizers), and is pretty much dozing cold to any touch or conversation the frustrated homemaker tries to initiate. Years later trouble brews.
Meanwhile, glad to be back home, and web-constructing, ah, my newfound firstlove. Sue and I are walking on eggshells, or rather, she is. I've threatened to leave her if I can't wake her up from her sexual slumber (empty ornery threats). My desires run manifest, but I have sublimated them far too long I say to myself, and figure the time is at hand to force a change. She says she realizes her lack of vitality, and wants to meet me in the garden of bliss, but I can tell this is going to be a long haul. Marriage sucks in this department. Otherwise I'm all for partnerships in rhyme, crime, and drinks with a splash of lime. But the sex broke down for us ages ago. I know I'm no great looker, hardly a provider right now, and nobody worth their salt & saliva will sympathize with me when I try to shift some of that blame onto the beautiful hardworking lady of the house, but isn't there a stereotype that fits in here? Hardworking breadwinner comes home from the office night after night, plops down in front of the television set, and pops open a beer (or pours self a series of wine anesthesizers), and is pretty much dozing cold to any touch or conversation the frustrated homemaker tries to initiate. Years later trouble brews. That's the Sue & Gabriel story, roles reversed, although she's always been a good listener, simply not much of a bed warmer.
His mom and pop married AND divorced each other THREE times, after growing up in the same household as step-brother and sister, my grandpa being ten years the senior of my granny. Eeeek! Just want you to know with whom you've been swapping goofs at baseball games & the Internet, dude.
Oh well, don't mean to whine on your virtual shoulder, but I figured I should clear the air somewhat after those few cryptic remarks I made a couple of weeks ago I guess it's been since we last mailed. Glad you had a pleasant holiday. Mine wasn't all bad. Spent some quality time with another brother in Dalton, just a few miles south of Chattanooga in the Tennessee ridge. He finally seems to have found a hole in the world where he can function more or less obedient to his crazy-eyed whims, a fearless mountainman, hours away from the dark shadows of family competition. The next trial for him will be when he gets his driver's license back. He's already spent over eighteen months in the slammer in two different stints on DUI charges. Chaz is a decent guy, actually very decent, but he's a small guy (5'4" 135 lbs.) wrestling with the dual giants of massive ego and low self-esteem fueled by family resentment and fantasy-driven psychosis. But he seems well-placed right now, and I'm happy for him.
Aside from Clyde (the successful business tycoon) & Laurie Ann (the most well-adjusted sibling among us) however, the rest of us seem to be in a state of perpetual psychological erosion. It's an inherited trait from my mother's side, although one would be hard pressed to deny that my dad's farmbilly background ain't fraught with a special kind of weirdness as well. His mom and pop married AND divorced each other THREE times, after growing up in the same household as step-brother and sister, my grandpa being ten years the senior of my granny. Eeeek! Just want you to know with whom you've been swapping goofs at baseball games & the Internet, dude.
Anywaze, lemme go. Gotta brush my teeth or something.
"...free from the Clyde-induced depression of Ninety-five! But swiftly working on a mutated variety, to date unnamed."
"Ignorance and virtue suck on the same straw. Souls grow on bones, but die beneath bankers' hours.""