Had a good weekend.

Lots of Gocco printing (watch out for that mass mailing... real soon), some tuning up of work projects and even got to see Pat "the eYe" Bridges for dinner Saturday night. Three months has gone by since I jumped ship outta SoCal. It was good to see Pat. We spent a considerable amount of time together down there in that hellhole. Either on the job or on the run, I spent a lot of time with Rose and Bridges. We had a good dinner with Cavan, Moran and the Sean Lake. Thanks for the good time and good chow.

Last night we went to see Insomnia with Al Pacino and Robin Williams. It was pretty good, but after awhile, the "dragging out" of this and that and way too many moments of that unruly Pacino snarl started to get to me. Alaska isn't that bright in the summer, but it does get to you. The light definitely fucked with me up there during those summers. Mainly because of large windows and shitty curtains. That was my downfall. Even at solstice, sure, it's light out, but it's a "dusk" of sorts. You can see things, but not "make out things. For instance, with my eagle eye I can make out a license plate from a good distance. I remember cars pulling in after midnight and not being able to make out the little details like that. There you have it.

Real excited to see the parents next week. We're gonna do some garage sailin' and some chowin' and some summertime relaxin'.

Motherly Enterprises

Happy Birthday to my Mom. She's a good one, and I miss her terribly. I hope yer day is good, take things easy. I'll be seeing her in a couple weeks as I'm going back to Traverse City for some rest and relaxation. I have only one objective for the whole mission: To hang out with my Mom and Dad for a 6 good days. That's it. All the rest is icing on the cake. I just want to hang with them. I'm tired of being away from home. As much as I love my new city and job and situation, I still ache at the fact that I'm a continent away. I'm not down with being far away anymore, for whatever reason. I guess I just realize that family is far more important than opportunity. It's a tough battle.

So I'm going home, and I'm gonna see my family. I can't wait.

Speaking of good motherly enterprises: It's been two years since my Gramma Leo passed away. We miss her. I miss her. She was a good gramma to all of us. I'll never forget the last time I spoke with her. Faced with so much, she still had that little laugh in her voice, "Hiya kid." It tore me up. Still does.

Remembering her: Key words/subjects/places/faces include: Milford, Regis, Budweiser, round glasses, one really big mole, a gigantic dark blue Thunderbird, sugar cereal (Uncle Kevin's cache), bursts of laughter, Bogey Lake, sleeping with the TV on and "I'm gonna tell you one thing..."

She is missed and remembered daily.

Work is good. We are busy and productive.

TWITCH TWITCH TWITCH

Got that twitch in my eye. Maybe I've been looking at these fuckin' monitors for too long?

Kris Okins Flies In Tonight...

Great. Another mouth to feed. So much for a solitary summer. The Draplindustries Youth Hostel is open for business, and contrary to popular contemporaries, business is good! With Matt Cooley in and out along with the arrival of micro Kris, my days will be filled up with fun. Evan Rose has pencilled in a stint in a month or so too. Real good... just what I need: That hairy, hebrew national fuckin' up my days.

Come one, come all. We're always open. Cheap eats, clean sheets, spacious.

The Man Who Wasn't There

Last night I watched "The Man Who Wasn’t There" with Billy Bob Thornton and Frances McDorman. Yet another Coen Brothers joint, and what a God Damn, red-blooded masterpiece it was. Everyone has an opinion, and everyone has their favorites, so let me express some sentiment myself:

The Coen Brothers are the sort of moviemakers that give the craft a good name.

What an amazing offering. Where should I start? Everything works. The peculiarity and unsettling believability of the characters, the extraordinary vernacular, the cinematography, the mood… it all comes together so amazingly well in their films. Everything seems to fit.

Their decision-making is clever. That’s the most intriguing part; how the stories challenge you to think around things, and beyond the current banal movie standards. Movies more often than not let me down. I’ll see something that is either sloppy or predictable and that’ll be the end of it for me.

Minneapolis Envy

Melissa is back in Minneapolis for graduation parties involving her siblings. Lucky girl. Kris graduated from big-time MCAD design school, Matt graduated from a fuzz program (po-lice) and little Ange wrapped up her illustrious career at Windom High School. Congrats to all of them, and best wishes from here on out. Ma/Pa Okins have done wonderful jobs with their children. I'm glad to be running with one of them.

I envy that she's back in Minneapolis digging the place. I still miss it. I hope she gets her fill of it.

Get back Melissa, I miss you. I still don't like yer cats, so don't get yer hopes up. Funny how you miss someone that you can't wait to spend time away from! Our little break was a good thing. Space is good. We have rough bouts of "cabin fever" from time to time and we barely survive them unscathed. Get home, let's hang out.

I spent my weekend working on CINCO projects, ho-hum. Lots of projects, lots of levels. Lots of mouseclicks. At least I got paid, so the bank account is stocked and ready to be whittled down to a shameful amount.

Talked to Dad today and he put a smile on my face. My parents always do. He brought back memories, ugly ones at that, involving heating the household with wood. My winter duty was to "bring in the wood" from under tarps outside in the snow. Dad stocked the side of the house in the fall, insuring an ample supply of logs for the cold Michigan winter months. I'd get home from school, unload the books and then trudge back out to bring in enough wood to get us through for a couple days. One load after another, cold, dirty and clunky, trying to efficiently make a beeline through the house, without spilling shit all over the place. Oh yeah, I put up a fight. I always put it off to the last possible moment. Much like mowing the lawn. Every load came with multiple objections and gripes. I hated that shit.

And all it takes is for Dad to remind me of those swindling afternoons where he'd break every child labor law in the book. He'd pass the wood in through a window. I'd stack load after load, and bitch about the whole fiasco. It was dirty and cold, and afterward I'd be the schmuck who'd have to clean up the window area. Ice, wood chips, bark, bugs.... you name it. I think the transaction came around every week or so. I remember assuming his role when he was down in Detroit. I'd pass wood in to Mom and she would stack, and of course, I'd be outside bitching about the whole process.

I miss that old sonofabitch, and oddly enough those days and all that fuckin' wood. We had a good life in Central Lake. It was hard and ugly and mean, but I loved it nevertheless.

Goodnight from Portland where I'm proud to say that Graphic Design is the deal that pays my bills.