Most of you are aware, I suppose, that there's lots of new things in my life.
I got married to Danielle on May 20th in the Boston Temple. It was awesome.
Tons of our family and friends made the long trip to celebrate with us, and the day was just perfect. Well, 98% of the day...
(Long story, perhaps for another time.)
We've lived on her employer's 3rd floor for a couple of months now, and we just got an apartment for September in Dorchester, a small, South Boston neighborhood. It's a modest little place, but we're doing some work on it and it should make a cozy little home for the next year or so that Danielle and I are in Boston... our first home.
The recording studio, which I built with Ryan Pedersen in 2008, and which has been my sole occupation for the last 12 months is in transition of ownership to an independent producer named Andrew Campbell. He's buying out Ryan in September and me over the course of the next year, during which I'll help him manage the studio.
That puts me back in the full time job market though, and I've been trying to dig up sound-editing/mixing, a/v, film, or teaching opportunities in the area. I'm experiencing the first really barren job market I've ever faced. I am both highly skilled and experienced, but there just aren't any jobs I am finding here. So, for the first time in 8 or 9 years, I'm looking for jobs outside of the professional media environment. These don't come easy either, as my experience is pretty specialized in that area. It's new territory.
All things considered, I feel great. We've been seeing real blessings and feel very well looked after despite our abject poverty. I just need this last piece to fall in place.
Lastly, I've been considering what to do with this blog. I'm leaning in the direction of a fresh start here too, perhaps on the tumblr front. It's a little better featured for what I think I want to do. I'll be sure to drop the new url on you guys when I get it going so you can keep me in your RSS feeds.
Thanks for reading everybody. And if any of you folks are praying people, I'd appreciate you sending up one for me in the old job search...
Mooney,
"Don't mind me, three feet from the ceiling."
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
An open letter to an example.
Dear President Webb,
In August it will be ten years since I came home from my mission. Actually, it will be for you too, now that I think about it. You left a couple weeks after me. It was an unreal experience. I often flash back to moments from it that were goofy or hilarious (I mean, it's Alabama), but I also remember moments of clarity, purpose, revelation, and unencumbered joy. I want to thank you for being a guiding influence during some really vital years of my life. I had made the choice to serve the Lord before we met, but you helped me to keep making that choice every day, even when the service was really, really hard.
As a missionary I learned about the value of real friendship. I learned the value of the sweat of my face. I learned about the pure love of God. I also learned about the sadness, pain, and hopelessness, inseparable to the human condition. I learned why Christ's mission was so much about ministering to the poor, the lost, the downtrodden, the neglected, or forgotten members of society. Healing wounds, giving sight, forgiving sins, and saving souls. Those are the lessons I took it the streets of Birmingham and Wetumpka, and Columbus, Mississippi. The lessons from you were the ones that helped me shape my person into a capable pastor and ready conduit for the Spirit of God. Learning how to really use revelation is clearly the most important skill I developed on my mission and serving with you was a fantastic seminar in how to do just that.
I'm really grateful that you were willing to serve for 3 years, at helping 200 or so young men find themselves, while they clumsily helped strangers find the Lord and His gospel. Sweet home.
Love, Elder Mooney
In August it will be ten years since I came home from my mission. Actually, it will be for you too, now that I think about it. You left a couple weeks after me. It was an unreal experience. I often flash back to moments from it that were goofy or hilarious (I mean, it's Alabama), but I also remember moments of clarity, purpose, revelation, and unencumbered joy. I want to thank you for being a guiding influence during some really vital years of my life. I had made the choice to serve the Lord before we met, but you helped me to keep making that choice every day, even when the service was really, really hard.
As a missionary I learned about the value of real friendship. I learned the value of the sweat of my face. I learned about the pure love of God. I also learned about the sadness, pain, and hopelessness, inseparable to the human condition. I learned why Christ's mission was so much about ministering to the poor, the lost, the downtrodden, the neglected, or forgotten members of society. Healing wounds, giving sight, forgiving sins, and saving souls. Those are the lessons I took it the streets of Birmingham and Wetumpka, and Columbus, Mississippi. The lessons from you were the ones that helped me shape my person into a capable pastor and ready conduit for the Spirit of God. Learning how to really use revelation is clearly the most important skill I developed on my mission and serving with you was a fantastic seminar in how to do just that.
I'm really grateful that you were willing to serve for 3 years, at helping 200 or so young men find themselves, while they clumsily helped strangers find the Lord and His gospel. Sweet home.
Love, Elder Mooney
Thursday, March 17, 2011
An open letter to someone who changed your life...
I'm gonna finish these last three if it kills me.
It probably will not kill me, but it will probably destroy the will to ever again commit myself to a running theme for posts. I know I've been long between posts, but I may need a real long break from the blog altogether. These turned way more personal/mushy than I usually like to be on the interwebs.
Mark,
I'm not even sure how we became friends. I'm really not. Of course, we were in church, young mens, and scouts together, but I'm certain we weren't real friends through most of that experience, because I didn't really have friends at that age. I am really ok with that. I've never really held on to those things, except to occasionally think to myself that if I now encountered the young me, I would feel very sorry for the little guy. He kinda let other people dictate the terms of his existence. I was small, if not downright runtish, until the end of the 8th grade, and while sometimes, I hung out with skaters and stoners, I wasn't really included as a part of anybody's group until I started to hang out with you and Joel in 9th grade. Since I'm not sure how we started hanging out together, I'm not sure if you're actually someone who changed my life, or someone who was just there while I changed it for myself. Probably a little of both, and it probably doesn't matter much, anyway. We hung out that first time and don't think we never really stopped until I left on my mission.
I have lived away from "home" now for more than a decade, long enough that Boston feels more like home than Mesa... So after 2 years on a mission, 5 years of college/work in Utah, and 5 years in NY/Boston, most of my friendships (of which there are now hundreds) are with people you've never met. Still though, I think I know probably 8 of the 20 most favorite people in my life through you. That seems pretty significant. I miss you and the gang, and I know am really terrible at staying in touch with you. So much of my life has been elsewhere for so long. But every time I come home I feel as welcome and as appreciated as always. You're a huge part of that, so thanks from the bottom of Mooney's happiness pie.
It probably will not kill me, but it will probably destroy the will to ever again commit myself to a running theme for posts. I know I've been long between posts, but I may need a real long break from the blog altogether. These turned way more personal/mushy than I usually like to be on the interwebs.
Mark,
I'm not even sure how we became friends. I'm really not. Of course, we were in church, young mens, and scouts together, but I'm certain we weren't real friends through most of that experience, because I didn't really have friends at that age. I am really ok with that. I've never really held on to those things, except to occasionally think to myself that if I now encountered the young me, I would feel very sorry for the little guy. He kinda let other people dictate the terms of his existence. I was small, if not downright runtish, until the end of the 8th grade, and while sometimes, I hung out with skaters and stoners, I wasn't really included as a part of anybody's group until I started to hang out with you and Joel in 9th grade. Since I'm not sure how we started hanging out together, I'm not sure if you're actually someone who changed my life, or someone who was just there while I changed it for myself. Probably a little of both, and it probably doesn't matter much, anyway. We hung out that first time and don't think we never really stopped until I left on my mission.
I have lived away from "home" now for more than a decade, long enough that Boston feels more like home than Mesa... So after 2 years on a mission, 5 years of college/work in Utah, and 5 years in NY/Boston, most of my friendships (of which there are now hundreds) are with people you've never met. Still though, I think I know probably 8 of the 20 most favorite people in my life through you. That seems pretty significant. I miss you and the gang, and I know am really terrible at staying in touch with you. So much of my life has been elsewhere for so long. But every time I come home I feel as welcome and as appreciated as always. You're a huge part of that, so thanks from the bottom of Mooney's happiness pie.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
An open letter to someone you just can't handle right now...
Dear NPR Music,
You used to be so great. Subscribing to your RSS feed helped me keep up on new music, see tiny desk concerts, and occasionally discover new artists. But you currently have some BIG problems with your feed.
First, repeats. I got 8 posts of the same exact story on the new Bright Eyes record. I know Connor Oberst gives you all kinds of grown up feelings in your pants, but come on. I saw it already. 7 times too many. Then they had the nerve to play on World Cafe a show who duplicates every feed item. So there was Bright Eyes two more times, and me, still not interested.
Second. Hipster central. Do you guys ever cover mainstream music besides Lady Gaga? I love indie rock. I own an independent studio/record label for goodness sake! But come on, it's like the "must have a strange beard" parade. I feel like I'm at the Newport festival every time I sign on to my reader.
Third. The jazz and classical beats are prolific. I love jazz, but I honestly can't handle the sheer volume of stories about obscure jazz players I've never heard of WITH NO ACCOMPANYING AUDIO. If you're gonna write a story about this one clarinetist who died in 1962 and tell me why he was so pivotal, let me listen to some pivotal recordings. Classical is similarly out of hand with the no-sound music journalism. The worst is the W.W.B.D. series. I don't care what Beethoven would like on the internet this week. I don't even care what music he'd dig (he was deaf). Also, YOU DON"T EVEN KNOW, so stop writing articles about it every week. That series sucks, and it doesn't ever seem to get more interesting.
Fourth. Sheer mass. You need weight loss. Heaven knows I support and love public broadcasting, but I'm the kind of person who opens my reader once a week. I subscribe to not a small number of feeds, but without fail, NPR music is responsible for 65-80% of the content. Which brings me to my biggest complaint.
Fifth. All or none. You have ONE, count em, ONE feed for articles. Even if I subscribe on All Songs Considered's page, I get the full NPR music feed. I could subscribe to just tiny desk for concerts, but once in a very great while, World Cafe or the NPR studios have something I'd like to see.
It's enough to make a music lover unsubscribe, which is I guess what this has come to. I'm sorry, I think we should see other people. And it is YOU, not me.
Jared
You used to be so great. Subscribing to your RSS feed helped me keep up on new music, see tiny desk concerts, and occasionally discover new artists. But you currently have some BIG problems with your feed.
First, repeats. I got 8 posts of the same exact story on the new Bright Eyes record. I know Connor Oberst gives you all kinds of grown up feelings in your pants, but come on. I saw it already. 7 times too many. Then they had the nerve to play on World Cafe a show who duplicates every feed item. So there was Bright Eyes two more times, and me, still not interested.
Second. Hipster central. Do you guys ever cover mainstream music besides Lady Gaga? I love indie rock. I own an independent studio/record label for goodness sake! But come on, it's like the "must have a strange beard" parade. I feel like I'm at the Newport festival every time I sign on to my reader.
Third. The jazz and classical beats are prolific. I love jazz, but I honestly can't handle the sheer volume of stories about obscure jazz players I've never heard of WITH NO ACCOMPANYING AUDIO. If you're gonna write a story about this one clarinetist who died in 1962 and tell me why he was so pivotal, let me listen to some pivotal recordings. Classical is similarly out of hand with the no-sound music journalism. The worst is the W.W.B.D. series. I don't care what Beethoven would like on the internet this week. I don't even care what music he'd dig (he was deaf). Also, YOU DON"T EVEN KNOW, so stop writing articles about it every week. That series sucks, and it doesn't ever seem to get more interesting.
Fourth. Sheer mass. You need weight loss. Heaven knows I support and love public broadcasting, but I'm the kind of person who opens my reader once a week. I subscribe to not a small number of feeds, but without fail, NPR music is responsible for 65-80% of the content. Which brings me to my biggest complaint.
Fifth. All or none. You have ONE, count em, ONE feed for articles. Even if I subscribe on All Songs Considered's page, I get the full NPR music feed. I could subscribe to just tiny desk for concerts, but once in a very great while, World Cafe or the NPR studios have something I'd like to see.
It's enough to make a music lover unsubscribe, which is I guess what this has come to. I'm sorry, I think we should see other people. And it is YOU, not me.
Jared
Friday, January 28, 2011
An open letter to the person who gave me my favorite memory...
While this is probably also Danielle, I'm gonna choose a different memory.
Dear Anne-Kate,
I will always remember the night Elder Maxfield and I came home at the end of an exhausting day, ending an even more taxing week of the most difficult and disappointing kind of missionary work, to your voice on our answering machine.
We'd been "flushed into" an area where the prior missionaries had not been doing a whole lot of work (hence they were flushed out). I was a new zone leader, training a brand new missionary, and doing absurd full days of tracting to try and get just a few investigators in a fairly wealthy area of Birmingham where most people would sooner talk to their living room wall than to us.
Dinner that night had even been disappointing. I was served fish. Not deep fried catfish or something I could stomach, something freshwater with the head and scales still on it. I made it through dinner and our short member visit and got on my bike, but it wasn't more than a few hundred feet before I was prostrate and vomiting the whole mess into somebody's bushes.
When we got home and checked the answering machine, the first call was from our only promising investigator who had just been given a heaping dose of anti-mormon literature. He had called us to say he didn't want to visit with us any more. Then your voice came on and you said, "I've read the Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, and the Pearl of Great Price and I believe everything and I'm ready to be baptized. Please let me know how soon we could do that."
Our mouths about hit the floor.
I think you probably feel like I'm the one who helps you to continue to believe, but I assure you, your call gave me a significant faith in the promises God had made me. Nothing I could do was giving us someone to teach. Then God gave us someone to baptize. And not just someone. One of my best friends in life, and a woman who taught me a tremendous amount about compassion and fairness and love.
May God always bless you with what you need and reward your diligent search for truth with understanding. May he bless you and Greg with health and strength and grace.
Worlds without end.
Allahu akbar.
Love, Elder Mooney.
Dear Anne-Kate,
I will always remember the night Elder Maxfield and I came home at the end of an exhausting day, ending an even more taxing week of the most difficult and disappointing kind of missionary work, to your voice on our answering machine.
We'd been "flushed into" an area where the prior missionaries had not been doing a whole lot of work (hence they were flushed out). I was a new zone leader, training a brand new missionary, and doing absurd full days of tracting to try and get just a few investigators in a fairly wealthy area of Birmingham where most people would sooner talk to their living room wall than to us.
Dinner that night had even been disappointing. I was served fish. Not deep fried catfish or something I could stomach, something freshwater with the head and scales still on it. I made it through dinner and our short member visit and got on my bike, but it wasn't more than a few hundred feet before I was prostrate and vomiting the whole mess into somebody's bushes.
When we got home and checked the answering machine, the first call was from our only promising investigator who had just been given a heaping dose of anti-mormon literature. He had called us to say he didn't want to visit with us any more. Then your voice came on and you said, "I've read the Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, and the Pearl of Great Price and I believe everything and I'm ready to be baptized. Please let me know how soon we could do that."
Our mouths about hit the floor.
I think you probably feel like I'm the one who helps you to continue to believe, but I assure you, your call gave me a significant faith in the promises God had made me. Nothing I could do was giving us someone to teach. Then God gave us someone to baptize. And not just someone. One of my best friends in life, and a woman who taught me a tremendous amount about compassion and fairness and love.
May God always bless you with what you need and reward your diligent search for truth with understanding. May he bless you and Greg with health and strength and grace.
Worlds without end.
Allahu akbar.
Love, Elder Mooney.
Monday, January 03, 2011
Not an open letter...
By the way, in case you missed it somehow in that last post, I'm engaged to be married.
Friday, December 31, 2010
An open letter to the last person you kissed...
Hey Baby,
Great job moving from crush to fiancee in just a few short letters. Ok, so I’ve written them at a snail’s pace... I would have blogged more often but I was busy hanging out with you.
What can I say in an open letter about the person I love most in the whole world without sounding super mushy gross-face? Well, how about that you have saved my life? Because this is not too much of a stretch. If I had to guess how my life would have gone this last year if I had not met you, my guess would be kinda scary. Instead it has been day after day of unbelievable love, support, and affection. I love you so much. I think the world of you. You’re my best.
And now we get to be roommates!
Love Always, Jared
P.S. Happy New Year. "It's Friday, I'm in Love."
Great job moving from crush to fiancee in just a few short letters. Ok, so I’ve written them at a snail’s pace... I would have blogged more often but I was busy hanging out with you.
What can I say in an open letter about the person I love most in the whole world without sounding super mushy gross-face? Well, how about that you have saved my life? Because this is not too much of a stretch. If I had to guess how my life would have gone this last year if I had not met you, my guess would be kinda scary. Instead it has been day after day of unbelievable love, support, and affection. I love you so much. I think the world of you. You’re my best.
And now we get to be roommates!
Love Always, Jared
P.S. Happy New Year. "It's Friday, I'm in Love."
Thursday, December 30, 2010
An open letter to someone you want to think you’re awesome...
Hey neices and nephews,
Why would your uncle Jared, who is awesome, and has never cared who does or doesn’t think it’s true, care that you think he’s awesome?
Well, I guess that’s just the way of things. I think all your aunts and uncles want you to like them. You’re like our surrogate kids, with all the benefits of offspring and none of the responsibilities. We don’t have to raise you, we just get to play with you and see who you grow up to be. I want you to always think your uncle Jared is awesome, whether he gets a job at LucasArts or not, whether his girlffriend brings you cool stuff from India or not. Eventually you grow up enough to learn we’re just as flawed and fallible as your parents, if not more, but while you’re young we just all want to be your favorite.
I know you’ll all grow up to do amazing things and be amazing people. Just don’t grow up to quickly.
Love, Uncle Jared.
Why would your uncle Jared, who is awesome, and has never cared who does or doesn’t think it’s true, care that you think he’s awesome?
Well, I guess that’s just the way of things. I think all your aunts and uncles want you to like them. You’re like our surrogate kids, with all the benefits of offspring and none of the responsibilities. We don’t have to raise you, we just get to play with you and see who you grow up to be. I want you to always think your uncle Jared is awesome, whether he gets a job at LucasArts or not, whether his girlffriend brings you cool stuff from India or not. Eventually you grow up enough to learn we’re just as flawed and fallible as your parents, if not more, but while you’re young we just all want to be your favorite.
I know you’ll all grow up to do amazing things and be amazing people. Just don’t grow up to quickly.
Love, Uncle Jared.
An open letter to someone I judged by my first impression...
Dear Ben,
This should come as no surprise. I’ve often told you how my first impression of you was totally wrong... I thought you were kind of a minor league douchebag. That was a pretty off-the-mark first impression, since we became awesome friends in Boston and lived together for better than 2 years.
You rock. I miss living in the same place. I always played more because I lived with you, cause you always wanted to jam when we were both home. Hope things continue to kick butt for you with school and jobs and life... You’re missed out in Boston by many, many people.
Jared
“No Evie, I don’t know who buried your car in snow.”
(Dead pan face, snow shovel in hand)
“Wouldn’t wanna be kept away, just for the day, from your BAAHHHDEYYYYY.”
This should come as no surprise. I’ve often told you how my first impression of you was totally wrong... I thought you were kind of a minor league douchebag. That was a pretty off-the-mark first impression, since we became awesome friends in Boston and lived together for better than 2 years.
You rock. I miss living in the same place. I always played more because I lived with you, cause you always wanted to jam when we were both home. Hope things continue to kick butt for you with school and jobs and life... You’re missed out in Boston by many, many people.
Jared
“No Evie, I don’t know who buried your car in snow.”
(Dead pan face, snow shovel in hand)
“Wouldn’t wanna be kept away, just for the day, from your BAAHHHDEYYYYY.”
Thursday, December 23, 2010
An open letter to the person who broke your heart the hardest...
Dear _____,
You’re a _____ ______.
Love, Jared
Choose your own adventure style...
I'll do this one for real, but later...
You gotta kinda be in the right frame of mind to do this properly.
You’re a _____ ______.
Love, Jared
Choose your own adventure style...
I'll do this one for real, but later...
You gotta kinda be in the right frame of mind to do this properly.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
An open letter to someone who pesters my mind...
Dear Connor Oberst,
I don’t know why exactly everyone loves your music. It still sounds pretentious and out of tune to me. Everyone tells me I’ll like it eventually, if I just keep giving it a shot. I’ve listened to all your albums several times. Eh...
Sorry, I tried.
Jared
I don’t know why exactly everyone loves your music. It still sounds pretentious and out of tune to me. Everyone tells me I’ll like it eventually, if I just keep giving it a shot. I’ve listened to all your albums several times. Eh...
Sorry, I tried.
Jared
An open letter to someone I wish I could be...
Brian,
Thank you for writing and recording some of the most beautiful music of all time. Thank you for demonstrating how transcendent pop music can be if given thought. Thanks for God Only Knows, In My Room, Surfer Girl, and Don’t Worry Baby. Thank you for finishing "Smile". Thanks for Heroes and Villains, Surf’s Up and Good Vibrations. Thanks for "Lucky Old Sun", and for reimagining Gershwin. Thanks for Caroline, No. Thank you always for "Pet Sounds".
I have long admired your handy work. Even before I could appreciate the significance of what you did on a technical level (in the face of significant technical limitations), I could appreciate it on a creative one. You broke with conventions and proved that rock n’ roll can and should, actually, have no conventions. You made miraculous textures of sound that continue to elude me as a producer and engineer.
Your genius stills inspires me, your big heart still impresses me, and your voice can still move me to tears. Thank you Mr. Wilson.
I may not always love you,
but long as there are stars above you,
you'll never need to doubt it,
I'll make you so sure about it.
God only knows what I'd be without you.
Thank you for writing and recording some of the most beautiful music of all time. Thank you for demonstrating how transcendent pop music can be if given thought. Thanks for God Only Knows, In My Room, Surfer Girl, and Don’t Worry Baby. Thank you for finishing "Smile". Thanks for Heroes and Villains, Surf’s Up and Good Vibrations. Thanks for "Lucky Old Sun", and for reimagining Gershwin. Thanks for Caroline, No. Thank you always for "Pet Sounds".
I have long admired your handy work. Even before I could appreciate the significance of what you did on a technical level (in the face of significant technical limitations), I could appreciate it on a creative one. You broke with conventions and proved that rock n’ roll can and should, actually, have no conventions. You made miraculous textures of sound that continue to elude me as a producer and engineer.
Your genius stills inspires me, your big heart still impresses me, and your voice can still move me to tears. Thank you Mr. Wilson.
I may not always love you,
but long as there are stars above you,
you'll never need to doubt it,
I'll make you so sure about it.
God only knows what I'd be without you.
Monday, November 22, 2010
An open letter to Santa Claus...
I decided to sub this one out with my Christmas list. I always have stuff on my Christmas list that's specialized studio stuff and hard to explain. I joke that everything costs more than $1000, so it's hard to make a real Christmas list. While that's true, there are a lot of expensive pieces of equipment, there's always littler stuff too.
AES/EBU Breakout Cable for Octopre
Lynx AES/EBU Cable
Hosa AES/EBU DB25-XLR Cable
Auralex Diffusion Panels
Multi-Format Digital Output Card for Octopre
And a couple of the ones no one could possibly afford, just for fun.
Universal Audio 4-710d
Malone Design Works MC Desk
And if you wanted a personal slave for the rest of your life, you could buy me this.
I know, I'm not normal. Here's some normal person stuff...
Okay Computer on vinyl.
Lateralus on vinyl.
Foo Fighter's Greatest Hits on vinyl.
Black Holes & Revelations on vinyl.
The Unforgettable Fire on vinyl.
What's Going On on vinyl.
I know, even my normal isn't normal. Who listens to wax?
AES/EBU Breakout Cable for Octopre
Lynx AES/EBU Cable
Hosa AES/EBU DB25-XLR Cable
Auralex Diffusion Panels
Multi-Format Digital Output Card for Octopre
And a couple of the ones no one could possibly afford, just for fun.
Universal Audio 4-710d
Malone Design Works MC Desk
And if you wanted a personal slave for the rest of your life, you could buy me this.
I know, I'm not normal. Here's some normal person stuff...
Okay Computer on vinyl.
Lateralus on vinyl.
Foo Fighter's Greatest Hits on vinyl.
Black Holes & Revelations on vinyl.
The Unforgettable Fire on vinyl.
What's Going On on vinyl.
I know, even my normal isn't normal. Who listens to wax?
Sunday, November 21, 2010
An open letter to someone out of state...
Hey Kirsti,
You're actually living in Utah now, which is totally bizarre considering you've been "my friend in the Virgin Islands", "my friend who's going to Bangladesh", "my friend in L.A.", etc, etc.
One has to envy you're life of moving and shaking... nurse on the run. I have to wonder how permanent Utah is gonna turn out to be. I actually met you there. When we met later in Boston, it took an awful long time to figure out how we knew each other. I recognized your name, first and last and I knew we had talked at length, but it was truly bizarre how I could not place where we met. But we finally realized it was at the Riviera in 2001. I was our Bishop's executive secretary and because his interviews ran perpetually over-time we'd had at least one lengthy conversation.
I'm glad we became better friends over time out here. I have an extra sense of appreciation for my friends who think and live outside the box of being a Mormon. In some ways, I think they're the most Mormon people I know; because they don't identify that way, they just live their lives and the let part of them that's LDS manifest itself. I wish I could explain better what I mean, but I've always been attracted to Mormons who exist well outside the stereotypes of what Mormons are like.
I also appreciate our friendship, because I've always felt like we communicate well. When I was all weird and messed up after Annie, you helped me get things in better perspective. I don't know how many friends told me she was bad for me... lots, actually. But it made a lot of sense when you said it. It helped me wake up a bit, and see that I had a lot of positive things to offer that she never saw. Remember that time you were gallivanting in South America and I wrote you emails every week? I was glad I did that. It was good to be writing, more than anything, but I think we became even better buds because of it.
Anyway, you're missed by me, uncommonly. I hope the job and life are great in Salt Lake. I'll have to come see you soon.
Love, Jared
"I always thought Dave was hearing impaired... Turns out he's just an a$$hole."
"I am not a benevolent God."
You're actually living in Utah now, which is totally bizarre considering you've been "my friend in the Virgin Islands", "my friend who's going to Bangladesh", "my friend in L.A.", etc, etc.
One has to envy you're life of moving and shaking... nurse on the run. I have to wonder how permanent Utah is gonna turn out to be. I actually met you there. When we met later in Boston, it took an awful long time to figure out how we knew each other. I recognized your name, first and last and I knew we had talked at length, but it was truly bizarre how I could not place where we met. But we finally realized it was at the Riviera in 2001. I was our Bishop's executive secretary and because his interviews ran perpetually over-time we'd had at least one lengthy conversation.
I'm glad we became better friends over time out here. I have an extra sense of appreciation for my friends who think and live outside the box of being a Mormon. In some ways, I think they're the most Mormon people I know; because they don't identify that way, they just live their lives and the let part of them that's LDS manifest itself. I wish I could explain better what I mean, but I've always been attracted to Mormons who exist well outside the stereotypes of what Mormons are like.
I also appreciate our friendship, because I've always felt like we communicate well. When I was all weird and messed up after Annie, you helped me get things in better perspective. I don't know how many friends told me she was bad for me... lots, actually. But it made a lot of sense when you said it. It helped me wake up a bit, and see that I had a lot of positive things to offer that she never saw. Remember that time you were gallivanting in South America and I wrote you emails every week? I was glad I did that. It was good to be writing, more than anything, but I think we became even better buds because of it.
Anyway, you're missed by me, uncommonly. I hope the job and life are great in Salt Lake. I'll have to come see you soon.
Love, Jared
"I always thought Dave was hearing impaired... Turns out he's just an a$$hole."
"I am not a benevolent God."
Thursday, October 28, 2010
An open letter to the person I miss the most...
It's hard to really nail this down, for sure, but the person I probably think this the most about is Adam... who incidentally, is one of the people who would least appreciate the anxiety associated with an open letter. I'll take it easy...
Do you remember that one day we were sitting on the ugly brown vinyl couches in our living room, you on one, me on the other and I was aimlessly bouncing a plastic ball off of the wall? Then it suddenly took a bizarre deflection and bounced of two things then came right for you and you just casually leaned forward and head-butted it without changing the expression on your face. We just looked at each other and smiled, like, "Oh yeah, that just went down."
There was also that time we were both telling Jemily how much my new DI lamp resembled a hookah bong. They were both saying it sort of did, but that wasn't the first thing they'd think of, and hardly an automatic reaction to seeing it. Just then Pace opened the door looking for Jason and you said, "Pace, what's the first thing you think of when you look at this lamp?" And he immediately said, "bong" without even thinking.
Anytime I was restless at 2 in the morning, you were not only up, but up for a middle of the night headphone-walk around South Provo. Or a Del-Taco trip. Or a bad horror movie. Or a drive up the canyon. You made Deadlocked a fun band to be in, because you were the one everybody liked. We danced to Canned Heat with Jason on days we didn't have anything to be up for and then went right back to sleep without a word. We road-tripped to effing Oregon with half the band and an OCD engineer we couldn't keep focused on a mix. We stayed awake practically the whole time.
We threw a heavy-ass tube organ in the river.
Miss the good times and the good company. I would seriously pay for you to live in the same place as me at all times if I could.
Yes, yes, y'all.
I kiss br***ts y'all.
Adam's behind me isn't he?
He's humping, isn't he?
P.S. I have like no pictures of you.
Do you remember that one day we were sitting on the ugly brown vinyl couches in our living room, you on one, me on the other and I was aimlessly bouncing a plastic ball off of the wall? Then it suddenly took a bizarre deflection and bounced of two things then came right for you and you just casually leaned forward and head-butted it without changing the expression on your face. We just looked at each other and smiled, like, "Oh yeah, that just went down."
There was also that time we were both telling Jemily how much my new DI lamp resembled a hookah bong. They were both saying it sort of did, but that wasn't the first thing they'd think of, and hardly an automatic reaction to seeing it. Just then Pace opened the door looking for Jason and you said, "Pace, what's the first thing you think of when you look at this lamp?" And he immediately said, "bong" without even thinking.
Anytime I was restless at 2 in the morning, you were not only up, but up for a middle of the night headphone-walk around South Provo. Or a Del-Taco trip. Or a bad horror movie. Or a drive up the canyon. You made Deadlocked a fun band to be in, because you were the one everybody liked. We danced to Canned Heat with Jason on days we didn't have anything to be up for and then went right back to sleep without a word. We road-tripped to effing Oregon with half the band and an OCD engineer we couldn't keep focused on a mix. We stayed awake practically the whole time.
We threw a heavy-ass tube organ in the river.
Miss the good times and the good company. I would seriously pay for you to live in the same place as me at all times if I could.
Yes, yes, y'all.
I kiss br***ts y'all.
Adam's behind me isn't he?
He's humping, isn't he?
P.S. I have like no pictures of you.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
An open letter to someone I've drifted away from...
Hey Julie,
(Look what they're doin to me.) Sorry, I still always here that song when I say that. "Drifted away?" Yeah, kinda. Which, by the way is like 212% my bad.
Remember that time you came to Boston to get married and my stupid work had me in the whole damn weekend? Yeah... I've been pretty bad about the whole contact thing. You're not the only one, but you might be the most neglected friend I have. Which is kind of lame, cause remember how awesome we were? Geez, I think people probably needed to dry clean the awesome out of their clothes after hanging out with us.
Did you know that your house was the first place I tried driving to without a map in Boston? And I only got crazy lost once. Anyway, not much to this letter. Just an apology for being incommunitado for so long. Let's chat soon and next time we're in the same state we have to hang, even if I have to quit my job (which I've become adept at of late, actually).
Miss your ruddy guts.
Mooney
(Look what they're doin to me.) Sorry, I still always here that song when I say that. "Drifted away?" Yeah, kinda. Which, by the way is like 212% my bad.
Remember that time you came to Boston to get married and my stupid work had me in the whole damn weekend? Yeah... I've been pretty bad about the whole contact thing. You're not the only one, but you might be the most neglected friend I have. Which is kind of lame, cause remember how awesome we were? Geez, I think people probably needed to dry clean the awesome out of their clothes after hanging out with us.
Did you know that your house was the first place I tried driving to without a map in Boston? And I only got crazy lost once. Anyway, not much to this letter. Just an apology for being incommunitado for so long. Let's chat soon and next time we're in the same state we have to hang, even if I have to quit my job (which I've become adept at of late, actually).
Miss your ruddy guts.
Mooney
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
An open letter to someone I wish could forgive me...
Maybe she already has. Mostly background... Then some letter.
Katie was a sweet girl. And pretty rad. She was so cool, in fact, that I thought she was far too cool for me. (Which is crazy, cause I'm awesome, right?) Katie had such a cute face, with blonde hair in a rad little boy haircut and big eyes. She was hot, and sneakily funny... Like it wasn't immediately apparent but I think anybody who knew her was aware how side-splittingly hilarious she could be. I wasn't her home teacher, but I went with my roommate once to her house to home teach her. There was some moment where everyone paused in silence and she meowed. Like a cat. After we stopped laughing, we asked for an explanation, and she said every 4 minutes there's an awkward moment somewhere in the world and every 4 minutes a cat dies. While I doubt if this phenomenon is accurate, the decision to respond to awkward silences by meowing was pretty funny.
So, Katie and I were friends... kind of. We would say hi at church and stuff, and while I'm sure I flirted the whole time I knew her, it wasn't till right after she announced her mission call that she showed any real interest in me. I was understandably conflicted and yet not altogether unpleased. She was, of course, cute and rad. We didn't go on any dates, we just hung out and talked a couple times. Then she disappeared for a couple weeks and came by my house the night before she left for the MTC. She sat on my stairs and laid her head down on my chest. We didn't really talk much.
The next day she was gone. While she was, I wrote her letters. She went to Mississippi, which was dear to my heart, as 5 months of my own mission were spent in the Magnolia State. We grew very close through writing letters back and forth. And while we never even really got romantic in our correspondence, I realized that letters have a peculiar kind of intimacy. When she came home I was in AZ getting ready for my big move to Boston. I called her house to welcome her back and tell her I'd be in Utah in a few days to pick up some stuff, and that I'd like to see her. There was a lot of strange anticipation and nerves for me as we'd never really defined our expectations. We had certainly become quite close over the year and a half she was gone, but I was about to be moving 2000 miles away and we'd never even dated. I was hanging out with Adam (who also wanted to see her) when I picked her up. She seemed unusually well adjusted for a girl right off her mission. We had a pretty fun few hours hanging out and when the two of us were driving back to her house I explained that I was gonna hang out with Jason the next day and then take off for Boston. She asked me if I would call her before I took off so she could say goodbye. I agreed, and when we got out of the car she just kinda full on kissed me. I was stunned, but like I said, cute and awesome, so I kissed her back (although I'm not sure how well, as all I could think was, "Uhhhhh, what the crap is happening?"). After a similarly awkward hug (I'm a huge nerf), I said goodnight. Then I did the dumbest thing ever. I posted about it on my blog.
I called her the next day just to say I was already leaving town on her answering machine. And never called her again.
I've never before or since been such a huge douchebag.
Now a letter...
Dear Katie,
I'm a putz. I wish I could say you were the only monumental screw-up I have on my record, but that would be a lie.
True, we never talked about getting serious with each other, but we tore down a lot of walls through our letters and developed an intimacy that I should have had a greater respect for, even if I didn't wholly understand what it meant to you. The retarded thing is that I really liked you a lot. I wanted to see what we could be, but I let my whole Boston move and that kiss that felt like it came out of nowhere (that demanded some commitment of me) to scare the ever-loving crap out of me.
I did the most gutless thing ever. I made light of it (possibly even ridiculed it) on the freaking internet. And I dropped a courtesy call to say I was already gone. I shudder when I think of what a tremendous tool that makes me. I have derided so many guys for lesser shenanigans perpetrated against my girl friends. My only saving grace is that I realize that makes me a tool. I've wished I'd been ready and could have given you a real kiss. I've wished I would have called you and explained why I was so taken back and talked about it. I wish now I would have at least told you why I was so confused and scared and let you explain your affection. I had time for all those things. I lacked guts.
I'm sorry from the bottom of my heart for how I'm sure I made you feel. I can't believe I blogged that $#!+. I can't believe I never called you again. You were so deeply a part of my life. Your letters had been a light in my life that had been pretty dark while you were gone (for reasons that had nothing to do with you). You helped me understand and feel better about my depression and the need to medicate for it. You shared deeply personal things from your own life with me. I treated it all like crap and treated you worse. This is easily the worst thing I've ever done to someone I called my friend.
If you could ever forgive me I'd be so grateful, even if we can never have the same relationship we had before. I hope God has blessed you with great things and a happy life. I hope he always will.
Love, Jared.
Holy crap, I found a picture of you on google.
I won't post it though. I try not to use the internet for evil anymore.
You're still a hottie.
No offense to my current girlfriend, who is the most hot.
Ok, I'm done.
For reals.
Katie was a sweet girl. And pretty rad. She was so cool, in fact, that I thought she was far too cool for me. (Which is crazy, cause I'm awesome, right?) Katie had such a cute face, with blonde hair in a rad little boy haircut and big eyes. She was hot, and sneakily funny... Like it wasn't immediately apparent but I think anybody who knew her was aware how side-splittingly hilarious she could be. I wasn't her home teacher, but I went with my roommate once to her house to home teach her. There was some moment where everyone paused in silence and she meowed. Like a cat. After we stopped laughing, we asked for an explanation, and she said every 4 minutes there's an awkward moment somewhere in the world and every 4 minutes a cat dies. While I doubt if this phenomenon is accurate, the decision to respond to awkward silences by meowing was pretty funny.
So, Katie and I were friends... kind of. We would say hi at church and stuff, and while I'm sure I flirted the whole time I knew her, it wasn't till right after she announced her mission call that she showed any real interest in me. I was understandably conflicted and yet not altogether unpleased. She was, of course, cute and rad. We didn't go on any dates, we just hung out and talked a couple times. Then she disappeared for a couple weeks and came by my house the night before she left for the MTC. She sat on my stairs and laid her head down on my chest. We didn't really talk much.
The next day she was gone. While she was, I wrote her letters. She went to Mississippi, which was dear to my heart, as 5 months of my own mission were spent in the Magnolia State. We grew very close through writing letters back and forth. And while we never even really got romantic in our correspondence, I realized that letters have a peculiar kind of intimacy. When she came home I was in AZ getting ready for my big move to Boston. I called her house to welcome her back and tell her I'd be in Utah in a few days to pick up some stuff, and that I'd like to see her. There was a lot of strange anticipation and nerves for me as we'd never really defined our expectations. We had certainly become quite close over the year and a half she was gone, but I was about to be moving 2000 miles away and we'd never even dated. I was hanging out with Adam (who also wanted to see her) when I picked her up. She seemed unusually well adjusted for a girl right off her mission. We had a pretty fun few hours hanging out and when the two of us were driving back to her house I explained that I was gonna hang out with Jason the next day and then take off for Boston. She asked me if I would call her before I took off so she could say goodbye. I agreed, and when we got out of the car she just kinda full on kissed me. I was stunned, but like I said, cute and awesome, so I kissed her back (although I'm not sure how well, as all I could think was, "Uhhhhh, what the crap is happening?"). After a similarly awkward hug (I'm a huge nerf), I said goodnight. Then I did the dumbest thing ever. I posted about it on my blog.
I called her the next day just to say I was already leaving town on her answering machine. And never called her again.
I've never before or since been such a huge douchebag.
Now a letter...
Dear Katie,
I'm a putz. I wish I could say you were the only monumental screw-up I have on my record, but that would be a lie.
True, we never talked about getting serious with each other, but we tore down a lot of walls through our letters and developed an intimacy that I should have had a greater respect for, even if I didn't wholly understand what it meant to you. The retarded thing is that I really liked you a lot. I wanted to see what we could be, but I let my whole Boston move and that kiss that felt like it came out of nowhere (that demanded some commitment of me) to scare the ever-loving crap out of me.
I did the most gutless thing ever. I made light of it (possibly even ridiculed it) on the freaking internet. And I dropped a courtesy call to say I was already gone. I shudder when I think of what a tremendous tool that makes me. I have derided so many guys for lesser shenanigans perpetrated against my girl friends. My only saving grace is that I realize that makes me a tool. I've wished I'd been ready and could have given you a real kiss. I've wished I would have called you and explained why I was so taken back and talked about it. I wish now I would have at least told you why I was so confused and scared and let you explain your affection. I had time for all those things. I lacked guts.
I'm sorry from the bottom of my heart for how I'm sure I made you feel. I can't believe I blogged that $#!+. I can't believe I never called you again. You were so deeply a part of my life. Your letters had been a light in my life that had been pretty dark while you were gone (for reasons that had nothing to do with you). You helped me understand and feel better about my depression and the need to medicate for it. You shared deeply personal things from your own life with me. I treated it all like crap and treated you worse. This is easily the worst thing I've ever done to someone I called my friend.
If you could ever forgive me I'd be so grateful, even if we can never have the same relationship we had before. I hope God has blessed you with great things and a happy life. I hope he always will.
Love, Jared.
Holy crap, I found a picture of you on google.
I won't post it though. I try not to use the internet for evil anymore.
You're still a hottie.
No offense to my current girlfriend, who is the most hot.
Ok, I'm done.
For reals.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
An open letter to someone who helped me develop professionally...
Hey Anthony,
Thanks for everything you did to help me get better at recording music. I really enjoyed so much of my time Avatar. The biggest thing I gained from my internship was confidence. I learned a ton, for sure, about mic placement, the various consoles, large session setups, and major-level analog recording... but these were all things a had at least a little under my belt. You were always eager for me to show you what I had, and you helped me feel like I had real strengths as a recording engineer and not just "adequate" skills. I'm glad you made me shadow Tio for a week too. While that was easily the most boring week I spent at Avatar, I learned a lot that is beginning to help me now as, God help me, I have become the studio manager.
Thanks for not using me as a runner or a coffee maker, but as an assistant. Thanks for inviting me to so many cool sessions. Billy Joel, Willie Nelson, and for including me heavily on Brand New's record. That was the treat of a lifetime and other engineers still ask me all about it. You did a fantastic job on the faders by the way. I thought Fred squashed it a bit too much, but that's just me.
So yeah, in short... Thanks.
Thanks for everything you did to help me get better at recording music. I really enjoyed so much of my time Avatar. The biggest thing I gained from my internship was confidence. I learned a ton, for sure, about mic placement, the various consoles, large session setups, and major-level analog recording... but these were all things a had at least a little under my belt. You were always eager for me to show you what I had, and you helped me feel like I had real strengths as a recording engineer and not just "adequate" skills. I'm glad you made me shadow Tio for a week too. While that was easily the most boring week I spent at Avatar, I learned a lot that is beginning to help me now as, God help me, I have become the studio manager.
Thanks for not using me as a runner or a coffee maker, but as an assistant. Thanks for inviting me to so many cool sessions. Billy Joel, Willie Nelson, and for including me heavily on Brand New's record. That was the treat of a lifetime and other engineers still ask me all about it. You did a fantastic job on the faders by the way. I thought Fred squashed it a bit too much, but that's just me.
So yeah, in short... Thanks.
Monday, July 05, 2010
An open letter to my grandpa,
Hey Grandpa,
I want to thank you for the things you taught me.
You taught me how to shoot. If you remember, at first I couldn't hit anything. But rather than be painfully embarrassed that your grandson had like zero skill for marksmanship, you paid attention to how I was setting up and where I was missing, and you discovered that while I was right-handed, I was also left eye dominant. I can only wink my right eye, and so instead of getting a straight perspective down the sights, I was getting the wrong side of the stereo image, instead of a focused, mono image. You asked me to try shooting with both eyes open and then to try shooting left-handed. As soon as I set up left handed I started hitting everything I took aim at. It sounds kinda sad when I say it now, because I think I have lots of talents, but that was one of the first times in my life I felt like I was good at something. My experiences at school had been kind of hard that year and one of the things that was hardest was that I didn't feel good at anything. I sucked at football, basketball, kickball, and tetherball. I was being sent to "resource" (remedial math) with the retarded kids and seeing a shrink. A little success felt pretty freaking great at that point.
You taught me how to drive stick... the first time. My dad had to teach me again later, and I remember he was a somewhat less-effective, certainly less patient teacher. I loved driving around in the forest behind your property. When I got the truck stuck once, you didn't get upset at all. Instead, you said, "Let me teach you how to lock the hubs and use four wheel drive!" I never felt intimidated to learn new things, because I knew you would show me how to succeed at them. You taught me how to reload ammunition, use a lathe and a drill press, patch leaks in a rowboat, dig a trench, till a garden, grow tomatoes, cut firewood, weld, rig a tow hitch, and frame a building.
You taught me a lot indirectly too... I learned about being a good and loyal friend, respecting women, keeping good humor, being trustworthy and honest, and how to love the world around me. I learned that from watching you. I grew to love the things you loved. You loved music, poems, and stories. You loved dogs, and fishing, and shooting, and kids. You loved nature. You loved to create things with your hands. You loved hard-earned exhaustion.
I know why Grandma loved you so much. I mean, I saw you maybe 8 times a year and spent one summer living in your basement, and you were by far one of the biggest influences for good in my life. I loved you sooooo much. Grandma not only got to be with you all the time, she was your best friend. You were lucky to have her too, for the record, but I know you knew that because of how you treated her. Thank you for teaching me the most important thing there was for me to learn... how to be a really good man. I'm a slow learner, for sure, but I never forget the example you set for me. You're the person, on the other side of mortality, that I miss the most. The children of the stepchildren of a man's second marriage don't always get to have a very close relationship with him... Lewis, thank you so much for being my Grandpa.
Love, Jared.
A.O.
I want to thank you for the things you taught me.
You taught me how to shoot. If you remember, at first I couldn't hit anything. But rather than be painfully embarrassed that your grandson had like zero skill for marksmanship, you paid attention to how I was setting up and where I was missing, and you discovered that while I was right-handed, I was also left eye dominant. I can only wink my right eye, and so instead of getting a straight perspective down the sights, I was getting the wrong side of the stereo image, instead of a focused, mono image. You asked me to try shooting with both eyes open and then to try shooting left-handed. As soon as I set up left handed I started hitting everything I took aim at. It sounds kinda sad when I say it now, because I think I have lots of talents, but that was one of the first times in my life I felt like I was good at something. My experiences at school had been kind of hard that year and one of the things that was hardest was that I didn't feel good at anything. I sucked at football, basketball, kickball, and tetherball. I was being sent to "resource" (remedial math) with the retarded kids and seeing a shrink. A little success felt pretty freaking great at that point.
You taught me how to drive stick... the first time. My dad had to teach me again later, and I remember he was a somewhat less-effective, certainly less patient teacher. I loved driving around in the forest behind your property. When I got the truck stuck once, you didn't get upset at all. Instead, you said, "Let me teach you how to lock the hubs and use four wheel drive!" I never felt intimidated to learn new things, because I knew you would show me how to succeed at them. You taught me how to reload ammunition, use a lathe and a drill press, patch leaks in a rowboat, dig a trench, till a garden, grow tomatoes, cut firewood, weld, rig a tow hitch, and frame a building.
You taught me a lot indirectly too... I learned about being a good and loyal friend, respecting women, keeping good humor, being trustworthy and honest, and how to love the world around me. I learned that from watching you. I grew to love the things you loved. You loved music, poems, and stories. You loved dogs, and fishing, and shooting, and kids. You loved nature. You loved to create things with your hands. You loved hard-earned exhaustion.
I know why Grandma loved you so much. I mean, I saw you maybe 8 times a year and spent one summer living in your basement, and you were by far one of the biggest influences for good in my life. I loved you sooooo much. Grandma not only got to be with you all the time, she was your best friend. You were lucky to have her too, for the record, but I know you knew that because of how you treated her. Thank you for teaching me the most important thing there was for me to learn... how to be a really good man. I'm a slow learner, for sure, but I never forget the example you set for me. You're the person, on the other side of mortality, that I miss the most. The children of the stepchildren of a man's second marriage don't always get to have a very close relationship with him... Lewis, thank you so much for being my Grandpa.
Love, Jared.
A.O.
Monday, June 28, 2010
An open letter to someone I don't talk to as much as I'd like to...
Hey Kristy!
What's up in Colorado? I think you're one of my most neglected friends. I don't ever seem to have time for a Colorado swing when I head out to Arizona and Utah. I have had the thought to call you and catch up so many times, but somehow the insanity of working nights and trying to run a business have overwhelmed me. You're not alone, incidentally, in fact, I regularly have friends in Boston tell me how little they see me. This is all truly unfortunate. I miss going to the park with you and talking about life. You're one of those who have had the frequent pleasure of listening to me ramble for an hour at a time on some subject before I finally say something really useful, which also happens to answer my own questions.
I miss hanging out on your bed during parties, and seeing how many people come and go from the room. I have the picture Diana took, of you, me and Pugs on your bed. It's one of my favorite pictures from Boston. I think you'd really have enjoyed the studio too, which didn't really get going till after you left. Then when you came to visit over the 4th, I only saw ya twice, on account of my lame-o job. I'm glad you like Colorado (it's a gorgeous state), and working for Santa Claus. You seem to keep drawing Boston people your direction (at least the ones named Katie). But please remember that even if we don't talk so much, this Boston person misses you lots.
The "Show Me" state... Ha!
What's up in Colorado? I think you're one of my most neglected friends. I don't ever seem to have time for a Colorado swing when I head out to Arizona and Utah. I have had the thought to call you and catch up so many times, but somehow the insanity of working nights and trying to run a business have overwhelmed me. You're not alone, incidentally, in fact, I regularly have friends in Boston tell me how little they see me. This is all truly unfortunate. I miss going to the park with you and talking about life. You're one of those who have had the frequent pleasure of listening to me ramble for an hour at a time on some subject before I finally say something really useful, which also happens to answer my own questions.
I miss hanging out on your bed during parties, and seeing how many people come and go from the room. I have the picture Diana took, of you, me and Pugs on your bed. It's one of my favorite pictures from Boston. I think you'd really have enjoyed the studio too, which didn't really get going till after you left. Then when you came to visit over the 4th, I only saw ya twice, on account of my lame-o job. I'm glad you like Colorado (it's a gorgeous state), and working for Santa Claus. You seem to keep drawing Boston people your direction (at least the ones named Katie). But please remember that even if we don't talk so much, this Boston person misses you lots.
The "Show Me" state... Ha!
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