the jellyfish scene was awesome

Ruby, my wife, Renee, and myself saw the Disney On Ice production of "Finding Nemo" last Saturday. It was very good; the choreography and the costumes were so precise and vibrant. It was the first time all three of us went to the Wachovia Center, a perfect venue for this version of theater, special effects and soundtrack included. Our collective excitement made me realize how "family entertainment" can be special for those who can experience it as something to share and as the art it is (no need to mention the high-end concession stands and souvenir shops).

for the birds

My wife almost ran over some pigeons and chickadees in the street this clouded morning. They seemed so dumb, waddling haphazard, in their own thoughts and awkwardly trying to occupy existence. Then, of course, I saw people crossing, getting out of cars, going through dooways that resemble dooways all over the world, weather-worn and remote, yet familiar like your own face. These people, like me, like the birds beneath nowhere's umbrella, a chill in the air from something imagined or remembered: I pointed out a dead pigeon in the road toRuby; she asked how I knew it was a pigeon; I told her why; she said it wasn't anything, it was nothing.

andy warhol

Ruby had her water-colors out this morning to paint a picture. I asked her what she was going to make. She said, "what you have to do is paint," which the emphasis on "do." This made me think of Andy Warhol. To me, he saw the "work" in creating art as more meaningful than anything else, which might be conceived as only surface.

soul power

Ruby and I have a farewell at school. We hug, kiss each other on the cheek. I start to sing lyrics to songs we listen to, but she stops me saying, "Stop...no, no, no, you'll distract the kids...," which makes her laugh. And, before we wave each other "have a good day, I love you," we touch each other's fists; at the same time, I say, "Gimme some soul power." Today, I forgot, but Ruby remembered. So, she lifted her knuckles to mine, sweet and gently, gave me "soul power."

rock and roll ruby

I accompanied Ruby back to school this morning; she is feeling better, with cherry-favored medication. But she is happy, played maracas at the breakfast table to "bottle up and explode!" by Elliott Smith between bites of Froot Loops, a musical smile on her nodding face.

doctor says

It's hard to see a little girl be sick, but mine is and has been and, in spite of everything a father and mother can do as treatment, it's time to see what the doctor says. I asked Ruby if she is hungry and she, weak and weary, said, "hungry for play." So I know her spirit is there and I share in that hope.

south street serenade

Yesterday, Ruby and I went to South Street, where there is the most adult/kid-friendly playground that I know of in Philly, off of 6th and South. We go there usually every other weekend: a good variety of things to do in the shade trees offer. After about an hour, we walked back to South Street, past her favorite record store, Repo Records, and the Dairy Queen and Tattooed Mom's we've eaten at. We stopped somewhere for mango water-ice. Sometimes, she pretends she's a statue as we go on, eventually to the Elevated Train at in Olde City, 2nd and Market. I've been here before, different times, alone or with friends, people who were more than friends, with other things in mind. I am not there anymore, not that person anymore. Right now, I love my heart's companion, a capricious statue with a pixie face.

church-time revisited

at mass, one is reminded of community, which, for Ruby and I, is an experience to absorb, reflect upon and understand as father and daughter: the celebration of Jesus, as well as ourselves as people treating one another with common decency, in peace.

church-time

going to church with Ruby for the first time; should be a flashback for me, but with much changed eyes; between the two visions, there will be another one to pass on to my daughter of almost six years on Earth...

tot-lot

this evening, got back from a playground known as the "tot-lot." Ruby had fun sliding down slides after climbing up them the wrong way, like most kids.
this neighborhood is expansive, in my mind, because I've physically walked around here, was born and raised here, still not sure what street is what, the name of this place or that. Placelessness is tanglible; being somewhere is not (how are you right now?)
Where is as unknown as otherewise imagined. Ruby and I dance down the sidewalks to the songs we remember, might make up.

where we are and go

Linh Dinh is, among other things, checking out the Westernization of Iceland this weekend, by way of invitation to read his poems at a festival. He mentioned seeing KFC and Taco Bell.
I brought Ruby, my daughter, to Holmesburg Library today to check out books, then went to Dunkin Donuts because I was so sleepy.
Ruby noted the "America Runs On Dunkin" on my latte, with extra shot. America seems to be this way, like a constantly humming machine -- from "Family" restaurants, like Applebee's and Friendly's, to fast food joints, to the Targets and Wal-marts, it's stop and go, keep moving, achieving some kind of end which is not in sight.
Why does anyone want to do this, be this way?
I do like hanging out with Ruby and taking a moment to see what's out the window, my Autumn leaves returning to scatter again. Incidently, I have been here before: this Dunkin Donuts, when I was a kid, was a Jack-in-the-Box, then a Seafood America. It's not ironic, I have to smile.

Yo, Kevin

Hey, today I got this blogspot. I don'tknow what I'm doing. Suggestions?