Skywritings

Something I haven’t heard in sometime. “First Available?”

stork123 — Thu, 11 Mar 2010 17:13:28 +0000

“First Available?”

I was asked this last night when looking for a table in Milwaukee. I haven’t heard that in years! It took a second to register what she was asking… and then I couldn’t remember what the alternative answer was. “Um… no. Last available? Er… Whichever is first – as long as it’s not smoking. Well… unless it’s going to be a really long wait. What is the divider between the two availables? If it’s that half wall, I’ll take smoking if I’m within a tables width of the divider. Where are the vents? Are they smoking near the bathroom? Will I have to walk through the smoking section to get to the bathroom? Does the food get carried through the smoking portion to get to me?”

And then I smelled something this morning I haven’t smelled in years. My cloths stunk! I used to carry around spacesaver bags (yep – from the infomercial) for all overnights except for Canada. Those Canadians know how to party! “Outside with your smokes, ey. Yes! I know it’s -20c”

Those spacesaver bags are great. I’d to put all my smokey clothes in when I packed my suitcase so my non-smokey stuff would stay clean for the next day. (Note – when rolling the bags to push the air out – keep your nose away from the exhaust holes. It’s a whiff you’ll never forget.)

I guess if I plan on eating in Wisconsin, I’ll have to dig those bags out of retirement. Or start smoking.

The latest in our adoption journey – said with a heavy heart.

stork123 — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 15:58:58 +0000

We’ve come across many unexpected obstacles in the 7 weeks since Judah’s birth and navigated several stressful events in the three months prior but the latest, unfortunately, is the most serious one yet. Through it all, when people would sympathize with the lack of sleep brought on by a newborn, I would laugh and say, “He is the easiest part!”
Judah’s biological father, who has been non-existent since our adoption journey began has filled out his court ordered documentation objecting to the adoption. He had been notified several times by the lawyers before the birth about his rights and never responded. This time, with just a few days before his right to object was about to expire, he did respond.
Let me say this, if we had any idea that he wanted a son, we would never have gotten involved… we are not interested in breaking families. And now, even as much as it breaks our hearts, understand that he has the right to a child if he honestly pursues this course of action with Judah’s interests in mind.
It is going to be a long journey for us but we plan on staying the course and raising our son as ours until we learn otherwise. This doesn’t mean the adoption is over – it just means there is more to be done. The next few months will tell if the objection was filed out of love or hate.
For us, it has been heart wrenching. I’ll have my mind on something else and look over and see tears welling in Susan’s eyes. Often, she will look over and see the same. We have periods of uncontrollable stress and depression but like everything else we’ve been through, as soon as we pick Judah up – it all goes away. Like I’ve said before during each of our other hurdles, he resets the stress clock.
The hardest part is as soon I start to fantasize about our future as a family the vision of us having to go on without him pops up and my dreams turn to nightmares.
We’ve been through many stressful events so far that have caused us grief and sleepless nights and looking back I hardly recall what they were. I’m sure when this passes, the same will happen.

A Grateful Day

stork123 — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 14:07:50 +0000

A Fully Loaded Bjorn!

stork123 — Tue, 16 Feb 2010 00:35:04 +0000

It’s rare that I try pants on when I buy them but if I do the only thing I am looking for is pocket depth. I don’t really care how they make me look or even if they fit right. I’m interested in how much stuff I can carry around when wearing them. This is something they should put on the sign – I don’t care if it’s a boot cut or an ankle cut… I want pocket capacity on the label.

Since having a baby I’ve become a big fan of the Bjorn! When he’s not it in I like to wear it and pretend I’m an off duty cop wearing my gun vest around the house. I want to load it up with gear and go to a bar and have them hang it on an antler while I knock back a few pints.

I’m looking for the perfect accessory to the Bjorn. A friend suggested a fishing vest or an ammo jacket. In the meantime I’m fitting it the best I can with my gear… bottles and burp cloths and charged containers of powdered formula, my Ipod. And, of course, the baby.

The giving tapestry

stork123 — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 22:49:24 +0000

Early on in college I bought a tapestry to hang on the walls of my dorm room. Since then it has been many things to me. I’ve used it on the walls and the ceilings of many rooms and I’ve taken it in the woods camping when I was too young to care that it didn’t provide much warmth. I’ve taken it to wine tastings and concerts. Last year we took it to Bonnaroo and made fabric walls to hang along the sides of our canopy to keep the sun out. The other morning, while feeding Judah, I found a new use… one I doubt I would have ever considered when I bought it from the “Wooden Nickle” in Tampa in the early 90’s.

In 1994 I had it hanging on the ceiling of my dorm room.

In 1998 I had it on the wall of the room I was renting.

In 2009 we used it at Bonnaroo as a fabric wall.

And in 2010 I found it to make a pretty nice swaddle!

And yes, I’ve washed it over the years. Maybe not as often as I should… but before wrapping a baby in it.

Snowmageddon – 2010

stork123 — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 01:06:06 +0000

Before

During

After

Time to feed – again. (Video)

stork123 — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 02:27:34 +0000

My own sensory deprivation chamber… with music.

stork123 — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 02:15:43 +0000

For years, I’ve used Pink Floyd’s 1968 studio album “A Saucerful of Secrets” as my secret weapon for an instant nap when I wasn’t sure if my brain was up for a break or there was too much going on around me to ensure a solid sleep. Most of the time, this is my trick for sleeping in airport terminals or the middle seats of airplanes but it has come in handy in many situations. It’s not that the album is a sleeper… quite the opposite. It is so think with notes and auditory tricks that my brain can’t keep up with all of it and shuts down. From the movie Amadeus, “Your work is ingenious. It’s quality work. And there are simply too many notes, that’s all. Just cut a few and it will be perfect.”

Since I’m so familiar with this albums hypnotic effect on me when Susan and I saw a Pink Floyd cover band last year and they played track 3 “Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun” I had to warn her. “There is a pretty good chance that I may soon pass the hell out!” I said.

Today, I may have found its replacement… The Dirty Three’s 1995 self titled “The Dirty Three”. Throw in some mental fatigue, a pair of Bose headsets buried beneath a hoodie, several blankets and you’ve got yourself a sensory deprivation chamber. Except of course for the music… which is a frantic jazzy mix of violin, bass and drum.

I first saw The Dirty Three in early 1996 at the Cat’s Cradle in Chapel Hill, NC when they opened for Pavement. In September that same year, I went back and saw them as the headliner the night before my 21st birthday. The bouncers let me in with an over 21 badge when I was under age but gave me a hard time the night before I was legal? On one of those two nights, I played Tron with the bass player before they took the stage. He told me he sucked at video games but was pretty good at playing Bass.

Their live shows are similar to the albums except much, much faster. And the song names are changed. I remember the live version of “Indian Love Song” being introduced as… “This song is called… ‘one time when I was on a plane… and I was sitting next to the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens and I thought, I don’t think this one is gonna end well’. That’s what this is called. But I might call it, ‘I once slept with Stevie Nicks and Mick Fleetwood was there’. I haven’t figured which one I want to call it yet.”
The album isn’t full of too many notes for the royal ear… it has just enough notes and just enough chaos to match with the chaos in my head to cause deep sleep. Just enough to listen to and focus on to knock me out by track 2. I look forward to trying this one out in the airport. Often, with my Captain’s hat pulled over my eyes like a cowboy, I wake wake up sitting below the CNN Airport News Network TV just as they’re airing another story about overworked regional pilots.

Google Voice Poetry

stork123 — Fri, 22 Jan 2010 14:39:49 +0000

I started using Google Voice months back on my G1 android phone to transcribe my voice mails. When you leave me a message, I get an email containing the text version of that message. While I can still listen to the voice mail, most of the time the email is enough to give me the gist of what the call is about. Often if provides hilarious results as Google has a much harder time with some voices over others. I call it Google Voice Poetry. My Nana’s messages provide the best results. Sorry Nana… these emails were to priceless not to share!

In this voicemail, she is thanking us for the peanut butter we sent as a birthday present to my grandfather.

Peanut butter lovers shows that you have a diabetic

Hi, silverware, have you been a big we’ve been trying to call you.Yeah, Susan that boggled got his presence and expected today and I put it, and I live a falling out of his mouth because of the recipient.Peanut butter lovers shows that you have a diabetic.That’s 98.Wanted to talk to her.We’re going to do.It was great stories birthday tonight baby socks taking a shower but I’d like to hear more.You know about what’s going on, so if you’re outside.Dan or something, call me okay.Have you bought.Thank you Susan,You are great.God bless. Bye bye. Plus.

Note: “Peanut butter lovers shows that you have a diabetic” is “We’re peanut butter lovers you two shouldn’t have done it.”

This is from my father asking about the snow storm in Baltimore. I had put some pictures up online. Google does a better job transcribing his text.

Capitalist want to know covered in snow

Still Smell in. 11:30 on Sunday. I saw the pictures. Capitalist want to know covered in snow. I checked with put furniture out in the street so you can park your car. Maybe you don’t do that in your neighborhood. Call me. Love you.

And another one from my Nana. She leaves the best Google Voice Poetry.

I waved a way to go to bed

Hey Christopher Stork. I got your message tonight but I called you this is my start diet and I just want to know what’s going on. Have more about it. And I also called her this afternoon because we got those two thousand years. If it for Paul upon you need to ask you about that anyway. Anyways, so I was wondering whether you have gotten my message and I call you last night i call you this morning colleagues. Hey, Ronald, I waved a way to go to bed, and I’m calling with tonight. I’d like to know what’s going on with the baby in everything out okay. I’ll be home. Martinez 11:30. Call me anytime you and suicides. Well port. Thank you very much for the presence and we love you and I hope everything is going on fun with the maybe if i bye.

Crew Scheduling asking me about a burger?

The samples in Chris Killing

Hey, Good. The samples of Chris killings. I’ll have a question for you enjoyed your trip for tomorrow. If you have a chance. Gimme a call back. Have a quick questions, I wonder if you can show a burger. If you can give me a call back. Thanks.

As you can read, the results are not perfect but for the first time in alone while, I enjoy getting voicemails! My recorded message used to say, “Don’t leave a message, send me a text.” I want to change it to, “Leave as long and detailed of a message as you want… and maybe do it with a mouthful of food!”

My short career as Chris Winston – Overnight Disk Jockey

stork123 — Mon, 18 Jan 2010 23:50:55 +0000

After college, or maybe it was during, I had a job for about a year or so as an overnight DJ at an adult contemporary AM radio station in a small town in Southern Virginia. Actually, it wasn’t just an AM station. It was, and still is, AM stereo which has been struggling to gain a foothold ever since that pesky FM came along. The signal actually sounds pretty good if you have an AM stereo receiver and you avoid driving under any overpasses… or during the rain. Or at night.
I spun easy listening adult contemporary hits from 10 pm to 6 am and had a very small but loyal following of mental ward inmates and insomniacs. You’d be surprised to know there are many people who call in at 3 am to request songs or comment on current events. Not only are there regulars… there are fans!
I had a guy call in most every night to predict the air quality index for the next day. At first I thought he was a 70’s era prank caller who’d ring just to breathe heavy into my ear hoping that did the trick but during our relationship I learned he suffered from an assortment of breathing related issues and probably lived in an iron lung. Often, he would call to request the “Air that I Breathe” by The Hollies on what he hoped would be a good Air Quality Index day. He’d cough it into the phone, “It’s gonna be a good day, Winston. Could you play my song?”
I assumed the on-air persona of Chris Winston because I thought Chris Stork sounded too much like Chris-Dork. It was college – things like that bother you at that age. Actually, you never get over being called Chris Dork as a kid. Also, remember… this was the South. I wanted a name that fit in. Chris Winston I hoped would remind people of Winston-cup Racing or Winston cigarettes. I figured people would trust me. Like Tom Brokaw. Personally, I liked Winston as in John Winston Lennon but no one ever called to say, “Play some Lennon, Winston. Wink Wink.”

Another regular was the “Bob Dylan guy”. Nope, he didn’t call to request Bob Dylan as you’d think. He hated Dylan and called to tell me so every time I played something off of “Highway 61 Revisited”. Often, on long quiet nights at the Stereo AM station when nothing fun was coming over the raw news feeds and old Bette Midler tracks weren’t cheering me up – I’d play a Dylan tune and stare at the phone like a grade school kid would after meeting the girl of his dreams at the roller skating rink. (Ps… this never happened to me. Not just the girl of my dreams part – the girl part. I couple skated with my aunt when I got tired of busting my ass trying to play Pole Position with roller-skates on. Stupid skating rink! If you ever find a hole in the space-time continuum and end up owning a skating rink in the 80’s… never put in games with gas pedals. The rented shoes have wheels on the for Christs’ sake!)
But, the Bob Dylan guy. I’d play a tune and he would call to tell me how he wrote that song and sent it to Bob “when he was still going by Robert Allen Zimmerman! That traitor!”
Apparently my fan was a poet and sent most of his stuff in letters to Dylan and once “Zimmerman arranged to meet me to talk about my papers.”
He told me this often.
Actually, he told me this every time he called.
I forget the song he’d quote but he pulled it apart during every call to explain to me the clues about how Dylan was talking directly to him. “See, he’s telling me when and where to meet him. I went… he never showed. I think he thought if we met I’d demand he give me money for my songs! I’d tell him I gave him those songs! Not now though. When we meet, he’s gonna pay me for that!”
So, on long, lonely nights… I’d play a Dylan tune to send the call out to my fan. I’d aim that bat signal at the asylum the surely existed within our coverage map.
Although this was the mid 90’s, most of the tracks we played were digital so we would line up the songs in a cue using a touch screen. You could drop in a Public Service Announcement or a Promo for a Church bake sale into the mix or even record your voice as a track plugging the upcoming songs. I’d play a game where I’d do the math backwards between when I wanted my recorded voice to play and the current time so I’d get the time spot on during my interlude. “It’s 3:37 and 25 seconds in the morning and up next is a classic from Bette Midler.” I’d say even though it was recorded hours before.
I’d line up a number of songs and few recordings of myself and take a break to walk around the station or use the restroom. The audio board we used in the booth had faders for all the various inputs including several raw news feeds for breaking news or the news we’d play at the top of the hour.
Once, I had lined up a half hour of long songs and a few PSA’s and went out to sit in the early morning air. During 7 minute and 37 second Moody Blues’ “Night in White Satin” I starting to hear faint voices under the the orchestral center of the song. The voices were about tornado’s and destruction and people losing their homes. I listened in and tried to clear the early morning fog from my mind and thought, “I’ve never heard this part of the song before. I’ve heard this songs dozens of times and never heard this before!”
When I heard the ABC news audio slug and the countdown for the 30 second version of the sound bite I realized I had left one of the faders up and it was bleeding out over the air and under the Moody Blues. Luckily, it was 3:37 in the morning and those listening probably enjoyed the confusion… or were confused already.
This was just one of many errors I made during my career as an overnight DJ. I once played Elvis’ “Pretty Paper” in June not realized it was a Christmas tune. I ended it with, “Let me be the first to wish you and yours a very Merry Christmas.”
I retired from that job have never gained the fame I hope would come with the job. I never had a fan run into me on the street and beg for my autograph on a part of her body. The closest I came was once I had a lady on the other end of the drive-thru machine at a biscuit restaurant (named BiscuitVille, of course) say I sounded familiar. When I pulled up I asked if her she recognized my voice yet? She said “no” and even though I told her my stage name it still didn’t ring a bell.
Maybe Chris Dork would have been more memorable?