If I were asked to name something I’ve written that I’m proud of, the following column, originally published in Boston Rock magazine in March 1986, is among the items that would most readily spring to mind. My modus operandi – or at least the ideal to which I aspire – as a writer has long been to say out loud the things that everyone knows, but no one ever really talks about. You can judge for yourself as to whether or not I succeeded with this column. Aside from correcting the odd typo or punctuation mark, it’s exactly as originally published. I was 26 years old when I wrote this, and I don’t write like this anymore,  and many things have changed for me, but I still believe in the point I was trying to make way back then.

For those not there the first time around, explanatory footnotes to obscure/insider references are supplied below.

Cave 76

Jealous by Starlight

In case you haven’t been keeping track, this issue marks the first anniversary of “Cave 76.” One whole year typing in this musty old cave; wow. Although the growing pains continue, the novelty’s worn off; certain things are taken for granted. Number 76 is in middle life. No more congratulations are offered to its author by his nine faithful readers upon each brilliant new installment; certainly no “Wes, you are the Doug Flutie of freelance writing.” (Just as well – they could be saying I’d get slaughtered in the pros.) We’ve long since settled into the grind. Naught remains but APATHY. Inertia city. Yeah, tell me about it.

Beginnings and endings are the easy parts. They’re ceremonial, with guidelines to get you through. It’s the middles that screw us up. Excuse me if I sound like Ellen Goodman, but there aren’t any ceremonies for Just Getting By. As a concept, middles aren’t that exciting, but they’re life’s lunchmeat; devils and angels left alone on the ground to slug it out. Which, if you look at it in a Zen context, is both the problem and the solution. That is, the thrill is in the challenge. And so be it.

We come, finally, then, to the long-awaited results of my Insanely Jealous Poll. I received exactly one letter – from Karen Martakos, age 15, of Wakefield,Massachusetts – but it was a lovely one:

I’m insanely jealous of Wes Eichenwald.
I’m insanely jealous of Wes Eichenwald because he can probably go to good clubs and see good bands. I can’t.
…because he probably has the opportunity to meet a sum of nice people and then go out drinking with them. I don’t.
…because he can probably look however he wants to without the authorities giving him a load of bullshit for it.
…because he can probably pick up whatever college radio stations he wants to on his stereo system.
…because he has a job…
I’m insanely jealous of Wes Eichenwald because he’s Wes Eichenwald. And I’m not.

Thanks for writing, Karen. I’m insanely jealous of this guy myself. Have fun annoying your parents with that copy of Mr. Beautiful Presents All Hard, and call me in six years and I’ll buy you a drink at the Rat.

The response shouldn’t have surprised me. Discussing one’s private jealousies in the pages of Boston Rock is rather like dropping one’s pants in the Ritz dining room. A free record won’t cut it as a bribe. No wonder nobody wrote in except a teenage girl holding up a mirror to my face. Jealousy, a major plank in the base of human relations, is something you don’t talk about. It’s one of the last taboos.

The myriad forms of jealousy available to the careful shopper are too numerous to really get into here – read Nancy Friday’s book, or something, if you’re interested (I’m waiting for the paperback). However, a few of the more incandescent include:

Consuming Jealousy: You’re so sick of congratulating your stupid friends on their stupid accomplishments, whether deserved or undeserved. Every day you swallow your pride, force a smile and say, “Congratulations, I’m so happy for you!” when what you really want to say is, “Fuck off and die, scumbag, I hate you, I hate you! It should have been me instead of you!” You want to boast, to do things none of your pathetic friends (that you hate) have done and say SO THERE. But you’re locked out and seethe about it. Lately you feel like you can’t even breathe anymore.

Jealousy as a Flip Side of Insecurity About Your Own Accomplishments: What do you do after you get what you want? Want more, of course. Ever greater accomplishments, though delivering ever greater kicks. So what else is new? You may have gotten 85 per cent of everything you ever wanted, but the 15 percent you didn’t keeps you from enjoying it. If that wasn’t bad enough, every time you reach a goal you disqualify it in your mind – it doesn’t count because, to yourself, you stay exactly the same, and that’s no good…

Selective Denial: An advanced stage. One way to handle others’ intolerable successes is to pretend they haven’t happened. After a while, you go numb.

Short Takes: Jealousy of people one step up the ladder from you as opposed to three or four (safely out of your view). People younger than you who got it together sooner. Close relatives, for any reason. Former peers who suddenly ascend beyond your reach (truly unforgivable; that’s where all the mocking covers of “Voices Carry” come from).

Enough of this. You get the point. There’s a lot of jealousy around, most of it sheer head-fucking nonsense. As long as some people are one maddening step ahead of others there is going to be jealousy, in the most ridiculous places.

For example, I suppose it’s possible that someone out there in RealLifeLandmight actually be jealous of me (yes, me) just for having this column. Yo, man, what’s your problem? Why aren’t you jealous of that writer of “Cellars By Starlight” in the Phoenix, like everybody else? But if you still envy my long-term lease on this fairly small-potatoes space, well, tough. Find your own mag to columnize in. This one’s taken for the foreseeable future. (Really, now…) And I got where I am on sheer luck, a winning smile, and heck, I’m too modest to continue.

At least I’m not jealous of Aimee Mann. Not now, not last year, not even when she was in the Young Snakes. I hope she has a nice life. It’s fine with me, really. I don’t care. But some people do. They could care less about Phoenix writers, but thinking about Aimee Mann rots their guts out. Ooh, that Aimee, I could just kill her for being so successful! She did it, she got out, and here I am still trapped in the bog, paddling like anything just to stay in the same place.

Jealousy is a toxic waste product of selfishness and ambition. Like cigarette smoking, it’s a seductive pleasure, if a hollow and cancerous one. It’s a hindrance to maturity. Jealous people are ultimately lonely, bitter people, dependent on others for their own identity, which is, I am what I want but can’t have.

Let’s talk turkey. I used to be jealous of almost everyone I knew. Then I realized – satori! – that their accomplishments had nothing to do with me; we were on parallel paths, not identical ones. By trying to appreciate everyone for who they are, it helps me to appreciate myself more, and incidentally, to feel more connected to my friends.

Sometimes I fail at this. I’m as imperfect as anyone. I have very few answers to anything. But I keep trying, because I have no choice. It’s all right. There comes a point where you have to say fuck it, let go, and live your life. After all, whoreally wants their friends to be jealous of them? The failure of people to accept things as they are, to instead wallow in delusions, is the greatest, self-inflicted obstacle to personal happiness there is. You have one life; don’t live it as an adjunct to anything, including other people. Now a resolution like that could be worth more than a cellarful – or a caveful – of columns.

Here are some explanatory footnotes for those readers not familiar with the (somewhat too) cozy littleBoston scene back then:

Cave 76 - the name of my column in Boston Rock (I think the above installment was actually the last one to run before the editors pulled it; mid-life turned out to be The End, but at least I didn’t end up too long at the fair). I named it after one of the jokes in Mel Brooks’s 2000 Year Old Man routine: the national anthem of his cave was, “Let ‘em all go to hell, except Cave sev-en-ty-six!” Hey, I still think it’s kind of cute…

Jealous by Starlight - the column’s title is a takeoff on “Cellars by Starlight,” the local-music column in the Boston Phoenix, the city’s leading weekly alternative paper; that column’s title, of course, itself being a takeoff on the song title “Stella by Starlight.” (Years later I actually ended up writing one “Cellars” column myself, and got to be friends with the regular “Cellars” writer I referred to in the above text; just goes to show ya that everything comes around.)

Doug Flutie - local football-quarterback hero atBostonCollege, later in the pros (sort of)

Ellen Goodman - well-known boring syndicated columnist based at the Boston Globe newspaper

Insanely Jealous Poll - a poll of sorts, named in honor of the Soft Boys song “Insanely Jealous,” in which, a couple of issues back, I’d asked my readers to tell me which person they were most insanely jealous of. Most were, for some reason, reluctant to reply.

Karen Martakos - yes, I did make sure Boston Rock sent the album to her; she never called for that drink, but in January 2002, Karen (who is no longer extremely jealous) signed my guestbook and gave a delightful update on her life. In her words, “I think it’s good for everyone in their 30′s to get in touch with their inner surly teen every now and then.” I still have the original letter, framed…

Wakefield - suburb ofBoston

Mr. Beautiful Presents All Hard - local-band compilation album (Modern Method, 1985) put together by producer Steve “Mr. Beautiful” Barry.

The Rat - what everyone except Tiny Tim (who played there one memorable night) called the Rathskeller, a legendaryKenmore Square rock club, sadly demolished in autumn 2000 (there was no joy in Mudville).

Ritz dining room - Brahmin retreat in ritzyBack Bay hotel

Nancy Friday - author of the book Jealousy (yes, I eventually read the paperback)

“Voices Carry” - a hit for ’til tuesday on MTV and elsewhere; the worst thing to happen to lead singer Aimee Mann (who has since redeemed herself many times over).

Aimee Mann - American singer-songwriter formerly based in Boston, now in LA; see “Voices Carry.” I still wish her a nice life.

The Young Snakes - Aimee Mann’s first band (by all reports, an unremarkable art-pop combo; no, I never actually saw them perform. Hey, truth in journalism!)

Every year, over and over… All you did was not die for twelve months.

That’s all you’ve done, as far as I can tell. Now those astrology things where they tell you all the people that have the same birthday as you? It’s always an odd group of people too, isn’t it? It’s like Ed Asner, Elijah Muhammad and Secretariat.

– Jerry’s opening monologue on Seinfeld, “The Outing,” originally aired Feb. 11, 1993 (which just happened to be my sister’s birthday, but never mind)

Yes, we must obey...

Yo...bestrew THIS. Click on it, you know you want to.

Birthdays are like genitals: Everybody’s got one, but not everybody knows what to do with it, or even wants to deal with the whole business at all. Nevertheless, there inevitably  comes the day that you must deal, and guess which day that is. You, dear reader, know what that’s like, for you, too, have that one day out of the year that’s Your Special Day. Yes, it is, it’s special.

Worship me, for I am Birthday Man, deity for a day. I am expected to spend the entire 24 hours in a constant state of unnatural Happy Happiness Squared, with a frozen rictus smile on my face. I’m having a HAPPY BIRTHDAY, dammit. So leave me alone while I do that.

Yes, that’s my favorite Seinfeld routine (the one about baseball fans being loyal to laundry coming in a close second). Yes, I didn’t die for 12 months, so let’s have some cake!Ah, the tyranny of the birthday ritual. It will envelop you, whether you like it or not, and demand your fealty to the foolishness. Let’s have the courage to call birthdays what they really are: The biggest gratuitous ego trip this side of a wedding, at a tiny fraction of the cost and hassle. Plus, unlike a wedding (unless you’re a completely off-the-rails celebrity), you get to have one every year!

The American Way of Birthdays has long served me as one of the innumerable subjects I know which are deserving of crankiness. It’s not, of course, just the anniversary of your birth. It’s Acknowledge My Existence Day — for most of us, barring a time of spectacular public acclaim, the greatest burst of recognition we’ll get until the eulogy, or at least the retirement party. Great accomplishment? Sure, wink wink. Celebrating one’s birthday is, like organized religion or televised singing contests, a social convention we generally don’t question, even though it’s of very questionable validity.

For all my cynicism, mind you, I don’t want to deny little kids their birthday fun. I’ve got two six-year-olds of my own, after all, and I recognize that when you’re dealing with developing little bodies and minds birthdays are a useful marker, appropriate, and fun. But after one’s 12th birthday — or at the outside, the confirmation/bar or bat mitzvah/sweet 16/quinceañera — it becomes another story. Like continuing to hang out your stocking for Santa, or keeping up the traditions of the tooth fairy, milk and cookies, and bedwetting well into your 20s, 30s, 40s and beyond, the birthday-candle, balloons, and the singing of a certain stupid, ubiquitous song  should raise some eyebrows, at the least. But somehow, that doesn’t happen, and the foolishness is given a free pass. (And don’t get me started on Halloween costumes.)

Face it: nobody really cares that it’s somebody’s birthday, we just pretend to care because we want them to pretend to care when it’s ours. It’s like Santa Claus, or your salary, or how many times a year you have sex: Once you’re over a certain age, it becomes a conspiracy of silence, about which the less said, the better.

“So you’ve been an abject failure in every area of your life? Cheer up, at least you still get to have a birthday. Have some freakin’ cake and balloons! You’re a year older!”

Acknowledge my existence, world. Please? (This also explains the existence of blogs and karaoke. We must have our say, even if we don’t know what we’re saying and nobody else wants to hear it.)

The acknowledging takes the form of…oh, you know, cards and candles and conical hats and (for those in technical adulthood) visits to a bar and multiple toasts all ’round. The corporate world, of course, takes notice of Your Day in its own bastardized, sanitized-to-the-point-of-screaming-boredom way with balloons and crepe paper ’round the cubicle and the occasional potluck to take the edge off the daily desperation and the drudgery of which no end ever comes.

Then, of course, there’s the big birthday game-changer of recent years: Facebook, which notifies you every time one of your friends has a birthday, which for some of us means two, three, or even four obligatory greetings in an average day.  Every day is somebody else’s birthday: There is no escape, and the cycle will keep repeating itself day after day, year after year, ad infinitum. Last month, David Plotz explored the phenomenon on slate.com to good effect in “My Fake Facebook Birthdays,” which explored what happened when he set his birthday to three successive dates in July: predictably, most of his friends, or “friends,” didn’t notice at all, just relieved that they didn’t have to send out an actual card, with a stamp on it and everything, and even put it in a mailbox. Hey, this is 2011!

In any case, it’s not my birthday anymore. It’s not even my birthday month. Not until next year, anyway. The balloons are deflated, the candles blown out, the cake long passed through various digestive tracts until…well, one need not go into details. Suffice it to say, the party has moved on to another table.

Not fair. Sob.

I want every day to be my birthday.

I want to be God.

Or something.

To be continued…

Hackney in August

In England, the veneer of civilization is peeling away like cheap linoleum. Apparently, 2011 now = 1977 only without all the good music; in fact, some have taken to burning record warehouses full of indie private stock, likely without realizing what they do. And what I’d like to ask is:

Where are all the new protest songs?

Where is the new Dylan, the new Clash, the new Phil Ochs?

Instead, all we seem to have are Justin Bieber and Lady Gaga and an obsession with celebrity gossip. The Society of the Spectacle has returned with a vengeance. We watch reality shows to escape our own reality, but somehow it always seems to find us.

We busy ourselves with televised singing and dancing and cooking contests, while the world around us crumbles a little more each day.

When are we going to wake up and protest against the real enemies of the state? And when the United States finally wakes from its great Decline and Fall torpor, will it be too late to do any good?

Stay safe, all my friends in the UK. I’m missing Kirsty’s voice now more than ever.

Actress-playwright Anna Deavere Smith…

Anna Deavere Smith, not to be confused with Anna Nicole Smith. Or Susie Fogelson.

…and Next Food Network Star judge Susie Fogelson?

Just sayin’.

Absolutely no hidden meanings or deep thoughts here. I thought it was time for something a tad lighter than recent offerings. A palate cleanser between courses.

@Pogoer

Wes Eichenwald

Austin, Texas

Just another pixel-stained technopeasant staring out the window.

»

Happy ’11 to all. Does this mean we get yet another chance to get it right this time?

31 Dec 2010

Pogoer Wes Eichenwald

He said his name was Piso Mojado, and that we had to be careful around him.

31 Dec

It’s never too early to have a happy childhood.

25 Dec

»

The People may have the Power, but they sure don’t use it effectively.

28 Nov

»

If we have a Thanksgiving, how about a Bitch About How Much Life Sucks Day to balance things out? Of course, for most that’s every day.

23 Nov

»

This note isn’t really from me, it’s from my Desk. So there.

23 Nov

»

So what makes these…Americans…think they’re so special, anyway?

22 Nov

»

Every time someone on the internet implores me to ‘please read this’ it immediately makes me want to run in the other direction, and fast.

22 Nov

»

I’m sure that in the end the things we thought were of the utmost importance will be shown to be nothing much, and vice versa.

21 Nov

»

Everyone eventually becomes what they were meant to be, if they live long enough.

20 Nov

»

In order to improve the quality of a nation’s elected officials, you must first improve the quality of the general population.

18 Nov

»

If only all those people overly concerned with proper English usage would apply a bit of their efforts to LEARNING A SECOND LANGUAGE.

12 Nov

»

Sorry, but comparing myself to the worst-off, unluckiest people on the earth doesn’t really make me feel like I shouldn’t complain.

10 Nov

»

Wondering if it’s inevitable that self-aware hipsters grow up and end up hating the person they were 20 years previously.

7 Nov

»

Nobody ever talks about how much of a short, bland trip it’s been.

4 Nov

»

When exactly was it when people stopped having skills and started having ‘skill sets’?

24 Oct

»

Bring me the head of fettucine alfredo, is that how that goes?

14 Oct

»

Since when is it a disaster if the S on your cape is a little frayed? — C. Butler

14 Oct

»

“Writing’s kind of like exhibitionism in private.” — D.F. Wallace

5 Oct

»

“Most of the writers I know are weird hybrids. There’s a strong streak of egomania coupled with extreme shyness.” — David Foster Wallace

5 Oct

»

Where I come from, Talk Like a Pirate Day is considered the conclusion of the High Holidays.

8 Sep

»

Very few people with actual children have much patience for listening to others go on at length about their cats and dogs. There’s a reason.

17 Aug

»

It’s not really your birthday, it’s Acknowledge My Existence Day.

12 Aug

»

Is there anything more bittersweet than doing the shoulda-woulda game of rewriting your own history from age 17 on?

10 Aug

»

I can’t imagine anything more insulting than being eulogized by some religious figure you never even met in life.

30 Jul

»

People consider their birthdays important because for many, it’s the greatest burst of recognition they’ll ever get until the eulogy.

30 Jul

»

Suppurating succotash!

6 Jul

»

Enough with the vampire stuff, already.

3 Jul

»

If Donald Duck was just created this year, his nephews would be named Aiden, Caden and Jaden.

30 Jun

»

Anyone who goes around saying “Second place just means you’re the first loser” needs to be shot immediately.

25 Jun

»

If you appreciate being informed, thank a journalist. If you appreciate being misinformed, thank Fox News.

1 Jun

»

I’d be very happy never to hear anyone sing “House of the Rising Sun” again for the rest of my natural days.

27 May

»

Alive is the new dead.

19 May

»

I believe marriage should be between a horse and a cow and no other species.

6 May

»

Dear Marketing Dept.: My mom’s been dead 20 years and I’m not going to be buying her a special anything this Mother’s Day, pls stop emails.

3 May

»

It’s hard to continue playing the brat provocateur when one is eligible to join AARP. One must eventually move on to other pursuits.

27 Apr

»

One reason I’m glad I have kids is nobody ever tells me I’m overcompensating for not being able to own a dog or cat.

26 Apr

»

Actually, socialism IS working out rather well for me, thank you. I think we should have rather more of it.

26 Apr

»

Make mine a double.

19 Apr

»

Nobody really cares if it’s someone else’s birthday. We just pretend to care because we want them to pretend to care when it’s ours.

19 Apr

»

Why are we supposed to care if it’s the anniversary of anything?

19 Apr

»

The best thing I ever did in my life was move away from Massachusetts.

19 Apr

»

Really happy to receive my copy of the “T.A.M.I Show Collectors Edition” DVD in the mail. Long time coming (about 45 years).

11 Apr

»

Sorry, I won’t go to a rally to protest the appearance of someone with whose opinions I disagree. Giant waste of time. Just ignore ‘em!

11 Apr

»

What’s all this “Philip Seymour Hoffman” crap? Dude, just call yourself Phil Hoffman, no need to be a pretentious twit.

7 Apr

»

The perfect response when a stranger inquires how you are is, “As well as can be expected under the Circumstances.” Let them wonder.

7 Apr

»

Idea for tombstone epitaph: “I’m keeping my options open.” Not my grave, someone else’s.

6 Apr

»

Most holidays in the US seem to revolve around purchasing and eating candy. Little chocolate twin towers on the 9/11 anniversary, anyone?

3 Apr

»

Never underestimate the political power of selfishness and stupidity.

3 Apr

»

Sorry, but I’d be quite happy not hearing anybody’s new version of ‘Over the Rainbow’ for the rest of my life.

26 Mar

»

I don’t get this ’80s nostalgia thing. I was there. On the whole, it didn’t seem all that great to me.

26 Mar

»

Sunshine, lollipops and rainbows.

22 Mar

»

Nocoj so dovoljene sanje. Jutri je nov dan. (Tonight dreams are allowed. Tomorrow is a new day.) — Milan Kucan

21 Mar

»

The middle of nowhere? Why, as near as I can figure that’s most places.

19 Mar

»

Ave atque vale, Alex Chilton. Why do so many of the weird good people die younger than they should?

18 Mar

»

What’s so funny ’bout the Great Society?

17 Mar

»

The longer I live, the more I become convinced that nobody really knows anything about anyone. Perhaps I’m in the wrong profession.

16 Mar

»

Sorry, but there are better causes to get involved in than getting the Academy to recognize your fave dead star in their Oscar memorial reel

15 Mar

»

I think old people who need hip replacements should get to leave the old hip under their pillow for the Hip Fairy to reimburse them.

9 Mar

»

It’s hard to look really cool while you’re waiting at a bus stop.

4 Mar

»

I wouldn’t join a Facebook group that would have me as a member.

1 Mar

»

The Summer Olympics end with a marathon; the Winter Olympics, with a hockey game. Now if there were only a way to combine the two…

28 Feb

»

Summer already?

28 Feb

»

Helping your five-year-old son make his first snowman in your backyard in Austin, Texas is such a really great thing.

23 Feb

»

Can you have senioritis if you’re not in high school?

21 Feb

»

When even politicians don’t want to be in politics anymore, what does that say?

20 Feb

»

Does anyone outside of Austin and Salon.com and the Maddow show care that there was a terrorist attack here yesterday? Yes, it was.

19 Feb

Plane crashes into office building in north Austin, Texas today. Too close for comfort.

18 Feb

»

“I’m nostalgic for some sour milk I drank in 1989. It tasted pretty bad, but I was so much younger when I drank it, so I miss it.”

18 Feb

»

Populism wouldn’t be so bad in practice if it attracted a better sort of people.

18 Feb

»

Nostalgia is OK in small doses, but one must guard against the tendency to romanticize things that weren’t that great in the first place.

17 Feb

»

Wishing everyone a happy Valentine’s Day/President’s Day/Mardi Gras-Carnaval-Fasching/Chinese New Year/Purim/Winter Olympics festival.

14 Feb

»

Who is this John Mayer person and why do people think what he says is important?

14 Feb

»

Nostalgia for the ’90s? Whaaaa? When did they go away?

14 Feb

»

When people pay $600 to sit in the cheap seats, they’re probably expecting a big hoo-ha of a show no matter what.

13 Feb

»

Constantly talking about the weather is code for “My life is boring, and there is nothing else.” Discuss.

10 Feb

»

Hard to believe that I used to routinely stay up ’til 1 a.m. Fuhgeddaboudit now.

8 Feb

»

It’s Groundhog Day. Again.

2 Feb

This chauffeur I hired to take me to the wine fair is driving me to drink.

22 Jan

»

Condolences to my Dem friends in Mass., but you’re officially enjoined from looking down on Texas politics ever again…

19 Jan

»

Tired of being expected to vote for a candidate whose main qualification is that he/she is only half as horrible as the other candidate.

17 Jan

»

You do know that nobody cares what you had for lunch.

14 Jan

»

Wrote a song in 15 minutes today, “Success Is Just As Bad As Failure.” Look for it on YouTube in the near future, maybe. Yee-ha.

11 Jan

»

News flash: Everything you know is wrong. Shouldn’t really be a surprise at this point…

11 Jan

»

“If life gives you lemons, get a gun and start shooting people at random.” — Unofficial motto of the USA

7 Jan

»

I’d be able to take Bono a tad more seriously if he’d take off those stupid sunglasses already.

5 Jan

»

Although it’s a new decade, there seems to be no alteration in the stupidity quotient, at least at this early point.

3 Jan

»

Well, back to reality we go…

2 Jan

»

Everybody’s working for the week. End.

1 Jan

»

Won’t be eating Hopping John today, won’t miss it.

1 Jan

»

Wishing all twittering folk sanity and good judgment (for themselves AND from others) in the Tens and Teens.

31 Dec 09

»

Tired of year-end lists, decade-end lists, books of lists, lists of lists, lists of anything

30 Dec 09

»

Can we all agree to call the new year “twenty ten” and not “two thousand and ten” in the English language?

29 Dec 09

»

I expect the phrase “bomb-laden underpants” to become part of the culture for awhile, at least until, say, Elvis’s birthday.

29 Dec 09

»

Just once in my life I’d like to hear Leonard Cohen sing “Do the Hucklebuck.”

26 Dec 09

»

Would rather write my own program than get with whatever program I’m expected to get with. Just the kind of guy I am.

26 Dec 09

»

Truly can’t stand Garrison Keillor, wish he would just go away already.

26 Dec 09

»

So glad I live in a town where you don’t have to ‘reserve’ parking spaces after a snowstorm. Just makes me hate the world that much more.

21 Dec 09

»

Face it: Most people’s wedding albums look like stills from corny Hollywood movies reshot with ugly people.

20 Dec 09

»

I’m done defending Obama.

17 Dec 09

»

Together, Bernie Madoff and Lieberman have done more to set back the Jews than anyone since Hitler.

16 Dec 09

»

How come you can be disappointed in someone, but not appointed with them? Unless you actually do have an appointment with them.

16 Dec 09

»

A lot of writers only look good on paper. And some of them should only be so lucky.

10 Dec 09

»

There’s a kind of hush all over the world tonight. It really creeps me out.

10 Dec 09

»

Who are these people who think professional golfers should be role models, anyway?

9 Dec 09

»

I have accepted Stan “The Man” Musial as my personal savior.

9 Dec 09

»

Hacking the spew in the modality paradigm, for synergy and grins.

7 Dec 09

»

Which decade is this year the end of, again?

5 Dec 09

»

Enjoying snow falling on Austin today, however briefly.

4 Dec 09

»

“Everything happens for a reason,” some people say — maybe true, but they don’t mention that it’s often a BAD reason…

29 Nov 09

»

Ah, life.

27 Nov 09

»

I would rather have root canal surgery again than read another comment on the Common Dreams website.

25 Nov 09

»

Wondering if there will be any Black Friday fatalities from customer stampedes this year.

25 Nov 09

»

Waiting for my call to be a judge on “Iron Chef.” It’ll probably be a while.

22 Nov 09

Just saw someone else’s life flash before my eyes

17 Nov 09

»

Once again, it’s all about you.

15 Nov 09

»

How come nobody ever stews in someone else’s juices?

13 Nov 09

»

Most of what I dream about involves being sidetracked on my way from Point A to Point B. Et vous?

9 Nov 09

»

I know, there’s something very wrong about posting on Twitter to complain about how superficial Facebook is…

6 Nov 09

»

All I want for the holidays is a music box that plays “Anarchy in the UK” in a sweet, tinkly, music-boxy way.

5 Nov 09

»

Nothing but yin and yang the whole day. What a drag.

5 Nov 09

»

Tired of turkeys and thinks Thanksgiving would be vastly improved if it was traditional to eat good Thai, Chinese or Indian food instead

30 Oct 09

»

Hope I don’t die in a ridiculous way, like being hit by a light pole. On the other hand, then maybe I’ll finally get noticed for something.

29 Oct 09

»

“The one beer to have when you’re having more than one?” At least that’s honest. You don’t care about the taste, you just wanna get bombed.

29 Oct 09

»

Imagine a world where nobody ever complained about anything. Would you like to live in it?

28 Oct 09

»

It’s going to be a cabaret kind of Halloween. I can feel it.

27 Oct 09

»

Apparently, someone left the cake out in the rain. I told them to bring it inside, but no one ever listens to me…and this is what you get.

26 Oct 09

»

“Life is either the storm or the calm before the storm. And then sometimes you go out for lunch.” — Lao-tzu (OK, me)

25 Oct 09

»

Wondering if there is any country on earth where the inhabitants aren’t constantly obsessed with stupid trivia and gossip.

17 Oct 09

»

What’s sillier, being in preschool or postgraduate school?

16 Oct 09

»

The team wearing the uniform with MY city’s name on it is better than the team wearing the uniform with YOUR city’s name on it! Nyaaaaah!

11 Oct 09

»

Went down the stoney end; though I never wanted to go, it was part of the guided tour.

7 Oct 09

»

Would like to ride at least once in my life in a plane with stairs you could climb to a piano bar and have a cocktail there.

7 Oct 09

»

Why do we never speak ill of the dead, and never say anything good about the living?

6 Oct 09

»

Why are dogfighting and cockfighting considered revolting in the US, but hunting and killing animals with rifles is a great tradition?

6 Oct 09

»

After 7+ years of living in Austin, why do I still feel like just another stupid tourist whenever I walk into the Continental Club?

2 Oct 09

»

“Get me to the world on time”? Really, what’s the rush?

2 Oct 09

»

In the afterlife, will there be restaurants?

2 Oct 09

»

Parting is such Vic Morrow.

29 Sep 09

»

Wondering whether things were better or worse in the days when bands had managers and writers had publishers…

19 Sep 09

»

Dancin’ down the Soul Train line. Or not.

19 Sep 09

»

Number One son prefers reality-based Animals on the Farm stories to fantasy Animals on the Farm stories. Oh-kay.

11 Sep 09

»

I really, really don’t care about football.

11 Sep 09

»

is hacking the spew.

10 Sep 09

»

is off to Holland and Germany to commune with the spirits of the ancestors along with some actual relatives & friends. See ya in Sept.

23 Aug 09

»

has yet to see the point of this whole silly Twitter thing.

15 Aug 09

»

Something we didn’t have when I was a kid: Viral videos about wedding dances.

7 Aug 09

»

If you can market tuna fish as “chicken of the sea,” why isn’t there a brand of chicken called Fish of the Land?

5 Aug 09

»

Watching videos tonight that Donna and I filmed in Slovenia and Italy in 2002. Forgot how much I loved those old buildings, and the rain.

2 Aug 09

»

Me and the wife both enjoying Wii Fit, Wii Music and various other Wii-related endeavors. Nice bday present from the fam and friends.

27 Jul 09

»

is working, Jack.

21 Jul 09

»

Last nite @ restaurant I’ve wanted to go to for 5 yrs; my wife dreaded it, but I was the one who ended up barfing in the bathroom. Ironic.

15 Jul 09

»

Don’t tell me what to think, you columnists.

15 Jul 09

»

My four-year-old son asked his mom, “Do our hearts have friends?”

13 Jul 09

»

Leftover birthday cake makes a fine breakfast treat.

12 Jul 09

»

Holy birthday piñatas, Batman!

10 Jul 09

»

There are just too many reunions and birthdays to contend with these days.

8 Jul 09

»

I wouldn’t go to Michael Jackson’s memorial service unless you paid me $100,000 and let me leave early.

6 Jul 09

»

Has anyone here seen my datebook? I know I left it around here somewhere.

6 Jul 09

»

I have too many usernames.

10 Jun 09

»

Unsolicited, non-street-team testimonial: Starbucks caramel macchiato ice cream with Starbucks coffee liqueur. Yum.

27 May 09

»

GM’s biggest problem? Chevrolet was too cavalier.

27 May 09

»

I walked, and then jogged a bit, with a zombie last night. Then we stopped and got some burgers.

18 May 09

»

Who’ll stop the rain?

29 Apr 09

»

If Jews get swine flu, can they cure it with chicken soup?

26 Apr 09

»

Being cautiously optimistic.

17 Apr 09

»

Occasionally, I’m insufficiently reverent. And you?

7 Apr 09

»

I’m skeptical of the conceit that everyone was apparently a celebrity in a previous life.

7 Apr 09

»

Getting nostalgic for the old paradigm like Grandpa used to shift. Maybe it’s the Opening Day thing.

6 Apr 09

»

You can tell a go-go dancer’s been on the job too long when all she dances is the Perfunctory Chicken.

6 Apr 09

»

Watching golf ball size hail fall on my house and yard.

25 Mar 09

»

Testing out new modalities in the paradigm.

24 Mar 09

»

I’m busy working on a new moisturizing conditioner for professional entertainers, to be called Humectress on the Stage.

13 Mar 09

»

The most annoying thing about cliches? They’re usually true. (Thought of that when I was about 12, was proud of myself.)

3 Mar 09

»

Burrowing away on deadline.

2 Mar 09

»

Burning a CD for my almost four-year-old.

14 Jan 09

Sarajevo was an odd place for me; I felt very much at home in Ljubljana, but in Sarajevo I was uneasy and unsure of myself. In a diary entry at the time, I wrote, “There’s something very odd about listening to Kirsty MacColl singing ‘I Wanna Be Sedated’ while walking through Freedom Square, Sarajevo, on Palm Sunday.” That about sums it up, I think.

This version dates from around the spring of 2002, shortly after I’d relocated to Austin; I’ve only lightly tweaked it here. I’ve left in the extremely travel-sectiony “If You Go” bits after the article proper, though I’m sure nearly all of it is now seriously obsolete info.

Free counters

Both Butch and Billy  (who as one might expect, knew each other — scroll down a little to the relevant bit) were beloved local characters, well-known free men of Boston, and although being a ‘beloved local character’ may earn you a certain degree of immortality, it exacts a high price. Although both individuals lived far more of their often troubled lives in public than most of us, and both exemplified the eternal manchild and untrammeled id (though both lived longer than one might have expected, nobody really expected them to ever die, either), there are also some obvious differences. Billy Ruane, who was afflicted with bipolar disorder and was occasionally institutionalized, came from a wealthy family and was legendary for his generosity to others, giving away scads of mix tapes and, later, CDs to anyone he thought should have them (he was the son of a highly successful mutual fund manager and lived to a large extent off a trust fund to the end of his days). Butch, born Harold Madison Jr., was a homeless man who lived on the streets and off the charity of friends and strangers, although he, like Billy, was known to be without ulterior motives and occasionally gave money and/or beer to people he thought needed it more than he did. In their later years both became emblems and living legends of a kind. Billy Ruane did much to hold together and seed Boston’s local music scene with his enthusiasm, booking skills, and sizable list of connections; Mr. Butch was the subject of documentaries, videos and a still-extant website.

In truth, I put distance between myself and both of them, perhaps because they represented aspects of myself that I was afraid of becoming. I was shy and socially awkward in my youth, plus I was a writer, which automatically makes you an object of distrust (you never know what a writer is going to write! maybe even something unflattering about you!). These days I’m less shy, at least. I liked to dance myself into a frenzy at clubs, too (yes, I usually pogoed), but like most of us I had no desire to turn myself into too much of a public spectacle, lest I be seen as someone who overly enjoyed himself, better stop before it crosses an ill-defined line. Billy and Butch didn’t have that common inner voice cautioning them against what other people might think; and no, a lot of the time they didn’t act with the best judgment in the world and suffered as a result.

Certain ‘serious’ people, both from the medical community and the Scene, were of the opinion that both were talented, intelligent, creative people who wasted their lives in frivolous pursuits (pot and sex in Butch’s case, aesthetic stimulation in Billy’s). Were both, to some degree, mentally ill lost souls who never got the help they needed? Or is it better to think of them as adults with free will who lived the lives they chose to live, and to hell with anyone who disapproved? I’d go with the latter, myself.

You could make a good argument, moreover, that the holy fool is popular because he (and it’s almost always a he) lives the life most people would like to live if they weren’t afraid of what society would say. Invariably, it’s only after they die that we know how much they did do in their time here, how many lives they touched, how many good things wouldn’t exist if they hadn’t taken the time to act on their caring impulses. After they die is when everyone chimes in to say how much they liked them, post online remembrances, and say how much they’ll be missed. Mr. Butch drew some thousand people to a memorial second-line parade in Allston ten days after his death, and Billy Ruane’s memorial service will no doubt be a huge occasion that the attendees will long remember (I’d go if I could).

I’ve long complained about the invariable pattern in our society to hold off on praising anyone until after they croak, and it’s easy to be cynical about such things (“Beloved local character kicks bucket, hundreds of casual acquaintances mourn!”, like an imagined headline from the Onion). In truth, both Billy and Butch could be pains in the ass — and one wishes a few more people could have shown ‘em some of that love while they still walked among us, instead of keeping their distance — and yes, I include myself among this crowd (what’s so special about dying? Does it make you a better person than you were before?).

A lot of the casual acquaintances of the local character are happy playing the enabler role, buying the alcoholic another drink, getting the junkie another hit — people like their local characters to stay in character — but bottom line is, the local characters are adults who make their own choices the same as anyone else, and if “getting the care they need” means locking them away for the rest of their lives, is that really the best thing in the end? It depends on your definition of success — if success means being remembered by large numbers of people in a positive way, both Mr. Butch and Billy Ruane were huge successes in life, although neither man had a ‘career’ in the conventional, tailored, ready-for-LinkedIn sense.

Certainly, not everyone active in the Boston scene, or any city’s comparable scene, has mental problems — hey, we’re just people who like music and art and meeting other fun folks. Certainly, not all the departed ones we miss have had difficulties relating to reality, such as the classy, stylish, smart and eminently sensible radio show host,  publicist and social catalyst Spencer Gates, who died of breast cancer in 2008; I knew Spencer a bit better than I knew Billy and Butch and after reading the obituaries and recollections of the real friends of all three, and marveling at the things they’d done and how much they wanted to draw others into their world, I wish I’d taken the trouble to get to know all of them to a much greater degree, so I’d have some of those stories to tell, too. (What was I afraid of?)

So what does it mean to mourn these deaths, besides knowing that we were young and now we’re old (or at least older), and being glad we’re still here and our stories haven’t been played out, everything hasn’t yet been finalized for us and our memorial books have yet to go online? I suppose here is where I wrap up this post (trying hard not to be self-important here, really) by saying something about appreciating the friends and family you still have, and that if you want to be remembered after you’re gone, you should do something worth remembering while you’re here.

Honestly, that doesn’t sound too bad. Want to honor the memories of the people you miss? Do something to alter the universe tonight, and dedicate your good-hearted efforts to them. And hope that people won’t wait until after you’re dead to say some nice things about you.