Archive for December, 2009

hello bench. hello bridge.

By admin On December 18, 2009 In aric s. queen, life, travel With No Comments Permanent Link to hello bench. hello bridge.

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hi.

[to the both of you.]

can you believe it’s been 10 years?

a decade ago.

today, exactly.

the 18th of december.

I was 23.

you remember me?

I remember you, bench. and I remember you, bridge.

I was cold and hungry.

saving my pennies for an adventure.

I was missing my family.

and a girl.

wondering if she ever wondered about me.

I didn’t have a friend named Ollie.

and never wanted to live in China.

I was scared. and I was excited.

…

so, pretty much -Â nothing’s changed.

…

except you,Â bridge.

you’ve gotten smaller.

the British are[n't] sinking.

By admin On December 18, 2009 In travel With No Comments Permanent Link to the British are[n't] sinking.

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I’ve been to the U.K. quite a bit.

lived here, on-and-off, for 2+ years.

irony of it all, was a dish-washer in a pub.

so, you’d think I would have addressed this already.

but, England, I need to know

how in the world your Empire was the largest we’ve ever known

you give us the Stones, Happy Mondays and Joy Division

but still insist on one tap for hot, one tap for cold?

how, in the world, do you propose I wash my hands?

scaring or frigid are my only two options?

and how, since I’m on the subject

am I supposed to do dishes?

with two taps and one basin?

how, England…how.

photos of nyc [dec '09]

By admin On December 16, 2009 In photos, travel With No Comments Permanent Link to photos of nyc [dec '09]

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…are up here.

if you want.

but you don’t have to.

pain.

By admin On December 15, 2009 In friends, life With 3 Comments Permanent Link to pain.

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am really not sure what we did wrong…

old friends toasting friends gone

with wines that took efforts. and didn’t come cheap.

we laughed and listened to T-Rex albums

and had fun being friends.

yet today we move slowly,

and talk in the quietest of tones.

punish the others!

not those of us who celebrated.

headaches for the television watchers.

bad stomachs for the non-drinkers!

aches for those who are content to talk on the phone,

as a 20-minute drive seems too much.

they’ll work and they’ll die and someone will say something nice.

but how many good friends who gather to say goodbye,

were ever told how good of a friend they were?

so shame on those who lean,

who borrow,

who send Christmas cards,

to an address they’ve never visited.

punish them, please.

but not us.

not us.

phil good.

By admin On December 11, 2009 In friends, travel With No Comments Permanent Link to phil good.

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it’s my last night from a dining table I considered a home for a few weeks. a few friends that I had only really know from weekends now I know from more. a few friends stopped by that pub above and a few more did the same a few days later. it would become a favorite pub of mine the same reason it’s become a favorite of all who’ve gone before me. history here – lots of history, and I dug it. I am part of that ‘we’ written on the side of that other official-looking building, and while I don’t know much about it, it’s still written in the passport I was given. what’s what? yes – yes I did get my shivering hands on one of those hot pretzels as well. even found my way to Gino’s – but forgot to add ‘wit’ to my order. damn it, I tried so hard to not be a tourist but maybe my two cameras gave it away regardless. I can find my way around here as well – even made it all the way back from Boston-NYC-Philly across the Delaware to a quaint little town in New Jersey – you can be proud of me or not, but I’m proud. it’d be nice if you were too though. I had a holiday here, with a family not mine, but is now. watched some television as well, which is something I never get to do. I went to bed too late and slept too late and always pee’d sitting down as not to wake anyone else up. I even gave the bathtub a rinse every time I showered because that’s what you do when you have a lot of hair in a house that you want to re-visit. do I like Yuengling? sure – it’s hard not to. I keep meaning to check the alcohol percentage though, but always stop myself, ’cause I’m pretty sure it’s low and I don’t want that to detour me from liking it. or saying I like it. the front door squeaks when you open it, so if you smoke after they go to bed, be nice and lift it up – it’ll still squeak, but not as much.

I like this house and I sure do like the people in it. I hope they liked having me. cause I sure liked being here.

and I’m sorry about the pineapple/garlic/olive puree I tried out.

that’s almost as bad as not rinsing out the tub.

to be great. to be great.

By admin On December 9, 2009 In aric s. queen, life, travel With 4 Comments Permanent Link to to be great. to be great.

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I’ve spent the past few days catching up with an old high-school buddy. we were both impressed with how the past 15 [15!] years had treated us. he wanted to know what I’d been up to and ended up Googling me. I wanted to write back ‘smoke & mirrors, man, smoke & mirrors’ because that’s all it’s been. did I travel a bit? yes. get involved in some fun projects? yes. have a few decent photos? yes. a few stories? yes. but who doesn’t? if anyone, anyone in question was so enamored with proving their life’s choices to put them all over the web, then they’d be interesting to. everyone’s got a story, everyone’s seen a few things – you don’t need a passport to do that. my photos are nothing more than a collection of photographers who have interested me, thus making me a bi-product. and that’s just it, isn’t it? we’re all bi-products of people far more talented than us. I’ve stood on some mighty shoulders, but, when you’re in the packed crowd, you don’t see that. you see the stander. the borrower. the one unable to hoist others up and takes advantage of the kindness put out before him. my friend is, as are some of you, doing good things. helping people. raising people. all I have is a passport and a phobia of settling. the people doing good things rarely have time to broadcast them. the people broadcasting are rarely doing good things. smoke & fucking mirrors. I don’t strive for greatness, I’ve simply become dependent on other’s attention. other’s approval. do I look forward to the day when I don’t care how many people ‘like’ my status update? god yes. oh my god yes. but I need it. and I don’t like it. am I writing a book because it’s going to change the world? no. I’m writing it because my Dad, a long time ago, told me to document this strange choice of roads. do I hope someday, someone picks it up and thinks ‘I should travel’, sure. but I’m not writing about travel. I’m writing about people who ended up traveling not because they were necessarily interested in travel, but because travel made their ownselves interesting. it’s sick and it’s funny and I probably will continue to do it until something, somewhere along the lines comes along that makes me say ‘okay [whew], I can stop now’. but it’s not now, nor do I see it being anytime soon. it’d be great once the book is out if I could relax, pay as much attention to others as I do myself, but something tells me that might not happen either. I need you to think I’m interesting, less my own interest in myself fades away. and so I go, I go-go-go, to the next place – putting myself in places you might not see because you might not see them. and that means I get invited to your dinner parties and you give me this great introduction and people ask me questions, questions that I wouldn’t have gotten should I have stayed on the other path. so oh my god, ask me things and don’t be impressed when I shy away from them – see, I know that makes it even more mysterious and that means more dinner parties and people remember you.

and what a great thing it is, to be remembered.

here comes the sunday.

By admin On December 6, 2009 In friends, travel With No Comments Permanent Link to here comes the sunday.

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this is the house in philly that got me back on coffee.Â it’s the house of tracy & justin.Â amy comes down from nyc often as well.Â I had my coffee this morning and listened to the girlsÂ as they baked up an extravaganza,Â in a way only two sisters could.

here are the hightlights.

12:13 [Tracy] ‘Amy, if you’re going to bake, you’ll need to take that scarf off.’

12:16 [Tracy to Amy, who needed to switch baking shirts] ‘Good God, and you think you’re going to survive in hippyland? [asheville]‘

12:20 [Amy] ‘Don’t be a beast, I was making cookies before you were in the goddamn womb’.

12:26 [Amy] ‘Seriously?! You drop this in cat litter and then use it to make cookies?’

12:37 [Tracy] ‘I said DON’T listen to Martha!’

12:46 [Amy] ‘That doesn’t make any sense.’ [Tracy] ‘It makes sense around here.’

12:52 [Amy] ‘You’re treating me like cheap day labor!’ [Tracy] ‘If I wanted cheap day labor, I would have asked Aric.’

12:54 [Tracy] ‘You know, most bakers are alcoholic.’ [Amy] ‘Because of drinking vanilla extract?’ [Tracy] ‘No, Amy.’

1:01 [Amy] ‘You’re going to charge me for sprinkles?’ [Tracy] ‘Yep.’ [Amy] ‘No shit.’

1:11 [Tracy] ‘What the hell, has Justin been drinking the orange extract again?’

1:28 [Amy] ‘I f*cked up, didn’t I?’ [Tracy] ‘Yes, you f*cked up. and on the chocolate chip? It’s the easiest cookie!’

1:35 [Amy] ‘It’s starting to get nasty. Which means one of us needs protein.’

1:37 [Tracy] ‘Amy, you want the cookies, but you don’t want to put the time in.’

1:39 [Amy] ‘I would prefer you to tell me why you need me to get something and then I’ll get it’. [Tracy] ‘Get it and I’ll tell you.’ [Amy] ‘You’re a naaaasty bitch.’

1:44 [Amy] ‘You know I shop by texture? I also eat by texture. And touching these cookies makes me never want to bake again. I think I’d rather bait a hook.’

[end]

and you wonder why I stay here as much as I can.