Aug 27, 2010
Aug 18, 2010
This took place at the Grand Marina Hotel in Barcelona on my cousin's birthday. I revealed my drink, the Flyguy, and the bartender liked it so much that he asked me to come behind the bar to make it again. Thank my sister for being on the ball enough to record the proceedings!
Aug 2, 2010
[The following is an excerpt from a collection of short stories I wrote about growing up in Boston and riding the T.]
I spend a fair amount of time at
The mice like the music. Well, that isn’t exactly true. It’s more that the mice are drawn by the music. Whenever a musician is out on the platform I’ve seen more mice running about on the tracks. Often times I see them running up and down the track stopping near to where the person is playing. They seem to listen for a moment and then run off in the opposite direction, only to come back moments later and repeat the process. Every time I see it I can’t help but think of the Pied Piper. The mice seem to be waiting for instruction from the musician. They wait there on the track, almost at attention, once they have received orders, they hurry away. When the task is completed they return for more directions. No matter what the music type the behavior is the same. I wonder what is so captivating to them, what is so mesmerizing about the music that these mice become soldiers in the musicians cause. What is the musician telling them?