Fall is i-cumin' in, loud sing cuckoo

Finally, after a summer of some truly humid and disgusting days, Fall seems to have settled on New England.
This means that glorious leaves of crimsons, golds, browns, and oranges are just around the corner. Halleluja.
I always hated September and October in LA. It was then that I truly felt the lack of seasons. Fall, and to a lesser extent Spring, are the prizes you get for surviving Summer and Winter. The slow mellow death and sprightly shining rebirth of nature can't exist in a city that doesn't have real highs and lows of temperature. It's either hot or cooler. No real changing of seasons, just alternates in temperature.
In Fall just walking down the street becomes a thing of wonder. The air becomes cleaner and crisper, more in focus. The ground is noisy with the crunch of fallen leaves. And it's jacket time. Sure snow is just around the corner and I'll be cursing my frozen toes and cold-burned lungs, but till then, I'm going to love Fall for as long as I can.

A Wish

I just wish I didn't give a damn when the people I cared about forgot about my birthday. People that I've known for well over a decade, siblings...I just wish that I could get used to them disappointing me and not have it hurt.
But it does.
And it just fucking sucks.

Birthday Thoughts

Now that I'm officially IN my 30's...sigh....I seem to have reached a point in my life where certain things don't matter. OK, not 100% sure what they are, but I'm sure I'll find out sooner or later.
It still matters to me that most of my friends continue to forget to even just send me an email, but it hurts less every year so I'm guessing I won't care too much next year.
For a change, though, I had a fairly decent birthday. I mean, I actually did something which is a huge change from the past few years.
Last night I met Michael Palin, a moment that was on my "to-do" life list. He had just published his diaries written during the Python years and did a Q&A in Cambridge. I stood in line, waiting for him to sign my copy and could barely contain my excitement. I was bouncing - literally - bouncing on my feet in anticipation. My hands shook and my heart thudded as I realized I was actually going to meet Michael Palin, a member of Monty Python, a group that has given me nothing but pure joy for at least 2 decades of my life. He was always my favorite Python, and only a bit because he was the cutest. I got up there, mentioned something about how I used to know someone who rented his house, gave him my book and managed to walk away afterwards without hugging him or truly embarrassing myself. The shaking didn't stop for ten minutes afterwards.
Tonight I went with a couple of friends to see Guster, a band that I love and have now seen in 3 states. Of course they are a huge hometown band, having gone to Tufts and all, so the place was packed. Packed with many a college student, which definitely made me feel my age. But the evening was thoroughly enjoyable nonetheless. At one point the people sitting/standing next to me began to make-out furiously. This went on for at least 20 minutes, causing someone seated behind us to throw condoms at them and yell "stop making out!". The couple, too drunk to care, just went on sucking face. I noticed that the girl had a gigantic hickey on her neck by the end of the evening. At least she got a concert souvenir I suppose. On the way back, one of my friends was hanging on a ceiling pole on the bus and managed to break it with all of his super strength. Brian is apparently the man of steel. My only concern was that they would stop the bus, have us get off and wait for the next one, and no one wanted that. (It was around 100 degrees today with humidity. Brutal).
Got some calls from family, a few from a few friends...overall decent.

Lifestyles of the Rich and the Dead

Last week I went to Newport, RI with a friend and found myself surrounded by more marble and gold leaf than I thought possible.
Newport has been the summer playground for the fabulously and obscenely rich for over 100 years. The Gilded Age, the age of the Vanderbilts, where railroad and coal tycoons saw their income come rolling in without the touch of income taxes, allowed these families to build monuments to their money. And sure they vacationed in these monuments oh, about 6 to 8 weeks a year.
I was struck by the immense extravagance and luxury of these homes. 500,000 cubit feet of marble in one house alone. 50 foot ceilings and entire walls of fireplaces flown in from France. Intricate hand-carved woodwork and mosaics that took nine months to complete. These people surely knew how to live it up.
The town of Newport easily divided by money lines. Bellevue Avenue, Mansion Main Street as it were, is a far cry from the homes and businesses of the regular folk. (We got mighty lost trying to find our way out of Newport and saw quite a lot of those regular homes.) I can only imagine what the disparity was like when people actually lived on Bellevue. The central tourist area was along the water, and all things being equal not too terribly touristy. A lot of local shops selling things you might not necessarily pick up elsewhere, including a fantastic make-up store that allowed me to indulge in make-up talk with the very enthusiastic owner.
I could have used another day to visit some of the museums in Newport, including the National Museum of Illustration (they house a lot of Rockwell and Parrish) and I'd love to have spent on full day on the water. But just getting a glimpse at the famed Newport Mansions and walking along the cliffs along the Bay...totally worth fighting the traffic on Rte 24.