February 2009 – Page 2 – Kelley Eskridge

Alchemy

Back in the late 80’s I had a job as talent co-host on a syndicated radio program called “Sunday Side Up” — a Sunday-morning light jazz/fusion program. The job was a miserable soul-sucking experience, but I liked radio and although jazz wasn’t really my thing, I found some music to enjoy (Real Jazz People are fleeing the blog in droves at this moment, but what can I say? Mileage varies…)

I’ve been listening to Acoustic Alchemy for more than 20 years now because of that show. The song below, “Mr. Chow,” has always reminded me of my time in the Grand Canyon. I can’t explain why, except that the music sounds like sun and dust and rock and water to me. It sounds happy to be all by itself, as if it didn’t need people listening to it at all… and that’s how I’ve always remembered the canyon. Not as stately, not as “grand,” but as a place of light and stillness and the motion of water.

I applied to Clarion in late 1987 because I was dreaming of escape, and when Clarion accepted me I quit that awful job without a quiver or a qualm, even though I had no backup plan. I took Acoustic Alchemy with me to Michigan. And there I met Nicola, and phht, everything changed. The day before Nicola moved to the US, I drove to a lookout over a lake and played this album on the car stereo while I tried to imagine what it would be like to live with someone, to take that leap. It turns out that for the most part, it’s been just like the song. Happy, forward-moving, a little more complicated than it seems at first. Light and water.

Enjoy your day.

click here if you can’t see the player

Seniority

This is the first time I’ve ever played meme, but I was tagged by Alex and I just couldn’t resist this one.

IN YOUR SENIOR YEAR…

1. Did you date someone from your school? Yes, I dated Scott Elder. I got my first speeding ticket driving his car when he, his friend Harry and I drove from graduation to a party at Stan O’Grady’s summer house in New Jersey. I was doing about 7,000 mph and a cop pulled me over. I was shaking so badly I couldn’t find my driver’s license in my purse, and so rattled that I said “Oh, fuck” out loud and then had to apologize to the policeman. I think he was vastly amused. He let me go with a warning.

I still speed. Clearly, I did not learn my lesson that day.

2. Did you marry someone from your high school? Oh my goodness, no. It’s eyebrow-raising to think how different my life would be right now.

3. Did you carpool to school? No, I went to a prep school in New England, and lived in various dorms for the four years I was there.

4. What kind of car did you have? Checker Taxi was everyone’s car, we weren’t allowed to have cars on campus.

5. What kind of car do you have now? A 1993 Toyota Paseo.

6. Its Friday night…where are you now? At home with my sweetie.

7. It is Friday night…where were you then? In my room doing homework (we had Saturday morning classes), or in the Coffeehouse, the student hangout on campus, smoking cigarettes and drinking Coca-Cola.

8. What kind of job did you have in high school? We weren’t allowed to have paid jobs while we were in school, but there was a rotating system of work. Let’s see. I waited on tables at dinner at least 3 times. We had 4 “seated meals” a week, with an assigned table presided over by a faculty member. Students got a new table assignment every week. If you were a waiter, you did it for an entire term. It sounds hokey, but it was actually a really good system for meeting other kids, other faculty, practicing social skills, and just basically staying engaged with the wider community.

I also washed dishes several nights, raked leaves… I think that’s about it.

During summers, I made some money by working with my dad at the Tri-County Fair in Northhampton, MA. Maybe more about that someday in a post.

9. What kind of job do you do now? I write fiction, essays and screenplays. And I’m the Managing Partner of Humans At Work, LLC.

10. Were you a party animal? In sophomore and junior year, I certainly did my share of partying. But I was elected secretary of the senior class, and class officers were expected to model good behavior, which included not breaking the rules. And so for most of the year, I kept myself out of the parties, which meant that I was far out of the mainstream of weekend social interaction. It was actually really hard. Finally, in late spring, after an undefeated crew season, I said Oh, fuck this and went to the ginormous crew celebration party and drank a lot, and it was great. I wish I’d done it sooner.

11. Were you considered a flirt? Oh, yikes, no. I was very shy and reserved. I wanted to be a flirt but didn’t have any of the body confidence required.

12. Were you in band, orchestra, or choir? Nope.

13. Were you a nerd? No.

14. Did you get suspended or expelled? No. But one of my responsibilities as a class officer was to serve as an advisory member on the school Disciplinary Committee (faculty did all the voting), and people did get suspended/expelled on my watch (although not on my advice — I thought expulsion ought to be reserved for things like assault, not drugs or alcohol).

15. Can you sing the fight song? We did not have one, for which I am grateful.

16. Who was/were your favorite teacher(s)? M. Hurtgen, Mr. Katzenbach, Mr. Davis (as a coach, I never had him as a teacher), Mr. Carlisle, Mr. Lederer, M. Duguay.

17. Where did you sit during lunch? With friends if any of them happened to be in the cafeteria at the same time — we all had individual schedules, it was more like college than like public HS that way. But I always had a book with me and was happy to read over lunch.

18. What was your school’s full name? St. Paul’s School.

19. When did you graduate? 1978.

20. What was your school mascot? None. I think mascots are strange.

21. If you could go back and do it again, would you? If I had to go back and repeat high school, I would absolutely go back and do SPS again. In a heartbeat. Going there is still one of the five best choices I’ve ever made.

22. Did you have fun at Prom? Well, we didn’t really have an official prom. We did throw ourselves a big spring dance, but it was open to the whole school. I went with Scott. He had been drinking, and at one point we were dancing to a disco song (it was the 70’s, we were allowed), and he tried to dip me and dropped me instead.

23. Do you still talk to the person you went to prom with? No, which is too bad. We’ve never attended reunions at the same time. Last I heard, he was married with 3 kids and working in Hong Kong.

Actually, I’d really like to talk to Jordie, my first boyfriend at school. But he won’t respond to my emails. I hurt his feelings badly, and have regretted it for years. I’d also like to talk to John.

24. Are you planning on going to your next reunion? I’d like to, but it’s a long trip. We’ll see. I always have a good time.

25. Do you still talk to people from school? Absolutely. Our class actually has a private email group, and we’re planning a service project in Concord NH (where the school is located) to get together and help build a public-assistance dental clinic (similar to a Habitat for Humanity project). I hope I can be part of that.

26. School colors? Maroon and white.

27. What celebrities came from your high school? Tons. Rich elite New England prep school, after all. Judd Nelson, John Stockwell, Michael Kennedy, John Kerry, Rick Moody, Gary Trudeau, the list goes on.

I’m not tagging people — I’m just no fun that way — but feel free to comment if you want to tell a high school story, or leave a link to your blog if you decide to answer these questions.

Harbingers

I’m sitting at my desk responding to blog comments, and I looked up just now to see about twenty tiny chubby birds scatter past my window like little BBs, drop onto a bush and hop about briskly, chattering to each other and munching up miniscule whatevers from the leaves and branches. And then phht, off again like another shot from a pellet gun.

It’s February, there is frost on the ground, and there shouldn’t be any little fat birds acting as if spring might actually happen someday. But there they were, so maybe…

Social media me

I set up a MySpace page a long time ago, and ever since have grumbled every time I have to update it, or respond to a message, because the interface is so clunky and difficult. I swore I would never do such a thing again.

So, hello Facebook.

I know, I know, stop laughing. The thing is, Facebook is so much cleaner, easier, nicer than MySpace that I suddenly get why people do it. I’m still figuring out my way around it, and deciding how to set things up, but I hope that if you are a Facebook user you’ll be my friend.

I’m also on Twitter these days, which I find sometimes scary-overwhelming and sometimes incredibly useful and fun. It’s like being in a stadium full of people and having a shouted exchange with friends on the other side of the field, while also overhearing random bits of strangers’ conversations, which every once in a while tell you something that you actually needed to know right now — a weird and wonderful synchronicity.

I’ve always been a fan of the concept of social media — for other people. I’ve never thought of myself as “social” in a way that fits with this kind of technology. But it turns out there’s a place for me too. I’ll never be the person who sends 100 twitter messages in an hour (and frankly, those people drive me nuts), but the twitterverse has space for me, and sometimes my little 140-character messages become someone else’s “overheard on Twitter” moment of the day. It’s interesting. So far, I like it.

I’ll be leaving MySpace soon. But I’ll stay on Facebook, and probably also set up a Humans At Work page there. And you can occasionally find me in a corner of Twitter, waving my arms about something. If you’re there, wave back.

I’d be interested to hear about your experiences with social media. Love it? Hate it? Can’t be bothered? All opinions welcome.

The art of Cooper

With my apologies and profound respects to all my human photographer friends, especially the awesome Jennifer, I give you Cooper, Seattle’s very own cat photographer.

Cooper’s people, filmmakers themselves, got curious about his life outside the house. So they attached a tiny digital camera to his collar that automatically takes a photo every two minutes. And now Cooper is a genuine local hero with his own gallery show and blog.

Here’s a sample of his work:

Find more photos here.

Cats are wonderful. If you have one, say hello from me.

Friday pint

Every Friday I transfer posts here from the Virtual Pint archives.

At least to act as if (December 2005) — New year ruminations after a long absence from the virtual pub.

Why do I go away sometimes? Various reasons. I generally treated VP like a conversation more than a blog, and so if there were no questions, there was generally no conversation. But these days I absent myself because things are busy-good or because things are hard. When things are busy-good, I am so focused that I lose track of time; I am always surprised to come up from the ocean of self and find how long it’s been since I reached out to my virtual friends. When things are hard, I don’t want to talk to anyone, except sometimes for Nicola. I am happy to tell stories; I am not so apt to process current pain in public.

It interests but does not surprise me that “withdrawal” for me means I stop communicating. I’ll talk, sure. I’ll discuss ideas and thank you for bagging my groceries, and I’ll be cheerful about it. I just won’t talk about anything I feel. Communicating is for me a demonstration and expression of self, even if it’s just May I please have the salt? When my self is wounded in some way, I protect it the only way I know how — by encircling the vulnerable places with silence, making them invisible. I can pretty much define my circle of true intimacy by people who notice when I do this, and people who don’t.

Why am I telling you this? I have no idea, except perhaps that — in the spirit of this 2005 post — I continue to look for ways that I can be myself in my life even when it means being visible, being vulnerable, being so hurt sometimes that I literally cannot speak of it because my voice will not work.

It was not until the end of 2005, in this December post, that I was able to say (even sideways) in public that I had lost faith in both my novels. It was only to Nicola that I was able to say the real truth: I had lost faith in myself as a writer.

That’s not how I feel anymore. I can safely say that I will continue to succeed and fail as a writer, but I will never again doubt the rightness for me of doing it. But I’ve been feeling lately, for a variety of reasons, that other people whose opinions matter have lost faith in me. It’s astonishing how much that hurts. But it doesn’t hurt as much as when I lost faith in myself.

And so my wish for everyone, especially right now when so much is so hard, is that you will do whatever you must to hang onto your faith in yourself. Even if it’s in shreds and all you have is a fingerhold on it, don’t let go. Just hang onto it until tomorrow. Repeat as necessary.

SBKoE (April 2006) — Here’s a prime example of the “cheerful” described above. That trip to England was brutally hard on both of us. Nicola’s mum was dying, and we all knew that this was our last time together. And then, thanks to an employee of British Midland Airlines, we missed our flight to Seattle, and there I was, begging a British Airways manager to please find a solution that did not involve my putting an exhausted, grieving woman with MS in a hotel for the night and subjecting her to the airport round all over again. He did, bless him forever, and I will always beg for something Nicola needs, but I don’t enjoy it. But I would never have told you that in April 2006.

It’s your party (April 2006) — And here’s a little something about publishing rights. No angsty backstory (Thank god! think all the non-emos on the internet…)

Thanks as always for reading. It’s nice to have you here. I wish you a lovely Friday.

Surviving

I’m sure you’ll thank me for this later. Even if I am about to send you off on hours of fossicking about on how to survive various forms of apocalypse. The link takes you to the first of eight essays, each of which contains a jillion interesting and useful links to other places and… well, you can see how quickly it could turn into one of those lost-on-the-internet expeditions.

We can start a new club: Future Survivors of Disaster (sort of like 4H or Junior Achievers except with iodine tablets and Geiger counter…)

Nicola and I amuse ourselves sometimes over a glass of wine by playing the Come the apocalypse, what store shall we rush off to loot and what shall we get? game. While everyone is over at Best Buy ripping off the flat screen TVs (because you need those in a crisis!), I’ll be at the pharmacy stuffing a basket with every opiate, antibiotic, and anti-anxiety drug I can get my hands on, thanks very much. Followed by salt, spices, liquor, matches and, well, the list goes on.

We muse on the possible scenarios. Will the social order crumble? Should we get a gun? What will be the critical needs until order is restored? It’s a game, but not completely. We’re not yet ready for the megaquake or the dirty bomb, but we’re not unready either. And it’s probably no coincidence that I take it a little more seriously than I used to: hard times bring closer the lesson that survival isn’t just a game to play in a warm room with dinner on the stove.

What are your plans for survival?

Throw yourself at the keyword

Part 2 of the latest keyword search roundup (here’s Part 1).

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Kick his ask

I love this. It reminds me of many times in a room — a meeting, a class, a reading, whatever — when someone would ask a question that made me want to… Well, you get the idea.

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She threw herself at the strong-looking young woman and found herself lifted off the ground

I like to think this is someone’s memory of a book they read or a movie they saw many years ago, whose details have faded except for this central image. And now they are searching for it.

Those searches can take a long time. But sometimes the universe gives back. I had the absolute pleasure recently of finding a song from my youth, and it was such a treat after nearly 20 years of looking for it off and on to finally hear it again. It didn’t take me back; it took me deeper, which is the real power of memory.

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why do people have dreams that they can’t physically punch someone?

Because your brain is suppressing motor neurons to prevent your ape-ancestor self from actually moving in response to the dream. Because then you might fall out of the tree you are sleeping in and get eaten by a dinosaur, or something. Sometimes in the dream state, the brain-body conflict plays out as “I can’t move in my dream.” I have the no-punching dreams, as well as the dreams where I simply cannot run (I end up in a weird sort of lope-crawl mishmash). I don’t think it has any Deep Inner Psychological Meaning. Just another way the brain takes care of us.

Oops, I’m not supposed to be doing your homework. Go ask Wikipedia.

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why shouldn’t I be an asshole

Dude, do I really need to explain this to you? When you are an asshole, people do not like you. When people do not like you, you get less cooperation, companionship, sex, love, chocolate, wine, the list goes on. Your soul shrinks and you become a hollow shell filled with a howling wind that rages as your life becomes an eternal quest to persuade yourself and others that you really are that important, that meaningful, that worthy of respect or adulation or whatever other need has driven you to be an asshole in the first place. That’s why.

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kelley eskridge dislikes

Huh. Well, either you don’t want to piss me off (which I appreciate), or you really do and are simply looking for the most effective way (in which case, well, I can’t stop you, but is this really the best use of your life?).

But in the spirit of sharing information, I dislike: meanness. Thoughtlessness. Not giving other people conversational space. Rudeness. Power plays. Pomposity. Bitterness. Talking during the movie. Elevating opinion to the status of fact. Needing to always win.

How about you, what do you dislike?

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can you see space from here

Anytime you look at the sky, anytime you look into yourself. I used to think “the universe is within us” was hyperbole, but now I think it’s just the truth. Whatever’s out there is in us too, the vast and the strange and the brutal and the frighteningly beautiful.

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may you be

Whatever you wish.

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And this month’s personal favorite: i cuffy i am. I have no idea what it means, but I like the definite-ness of it. You go, Cuffy.

Kell Kell and the Searchers

Wouldn’t that be a great name for 50’s cover band? In an alternate universe, there I am with a miniskirt and a microphone.

But in this universe, what we have is some of the keyword searches that brought people here in December and January. I feel a two-parter coming on, so more in the next post.
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kelley eskridge, kelly eskridge
This is the first time in quite a while that more people have come looking for me than looking for naked people. I’m delighted!

Although I suppose it’s possible some of them may be coming to look for my ex-sister-in-law, who was (for a few years) Kelly Eskridge. I have to say that sharing a name in the same family wasn’t my favorite thing, although I hope I bore it nobly or at least without being too much of a territorial pig. Until my folks (during this time) adopted a dog named Kelly, when I pretty much did the freak dance on the phone with my dad, and he graciously (and, no doubt, with some amusement) changed the dog’s name.
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real naked people, old naked people, doing filthy things naked with a stranger, emo pictures naked, harmful public nakedness
…and my personal new favorite, watch kell kell get naked

In a charming display of “endlessly inventive,” even the emo folks are getting their day in the sun.

Never mind about the kell kell.

But I’m still trying to figure out what would constitute harmful public nakedness. Who does it hurt?
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“some people think that they can learn better by themselves than with a teacher. other think that it is always better to have a teacher. which do you prefer? use specific reasons to develop your essay.”

And you came looking here? After all my table-thumping I won’t do your homework speeches? It’s the bazooka for you next time, kid, so be careful.

But the thing is, it’s an interesting question, so I have to comment even though I know I’m just adding my special little drop of water to the already-too-full bucket (which is the bucket of I’ll get all my original ideas off the internet, thanks very much!).

Not all professional teachers are good teachers. Some are mediocre, some are stupid, some are pigs. Do we learn better from these folks? I don’t think so. And conversely, some of the best teachers are not pros. There is so much in life we can learn only by doing, and often the doing involves other people somehow. Those people become our teachers, even if only for a little while (or in ways that we may not enjoy in the moment, but which are nonetheless instructive).

But I don’t think we learn best in a vacuum. I think we need to teach, and learn from, each other, strength to strength.
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we locked him outside naked

Now, that’s just mean, especially if there was weather going on.
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when i sit down i am 50

I interpret this as Doesn’t it all go by so fast? The short answer is Yes. The long answer is Too fucking right it does.

There are moments (like right this second) when I feel like a walking cliche — Oh, just wait, young person, you’ll see how quick the years go by when you’re my age! I remember adults saying this to me in hearty voices (anyone remember The Graduate? The “plastics” voice…) — but I also heard them say it to each other in what they must have thought were private moments, since the tone was so often genuinely confused, or bemused, or even a little frightened. And sometimes, simply accepting, acknowledging. But I don’t think I ever heard anyone talk about it as if they were thrilled that the river of their life was picking up speed. Because the river moves faster the closer it gets to the fall.
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where to find yourself blogged

You have to tell the internet your name or it doesn’t know what blogs to find you on…
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i believe power of hug

Me too.
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invisible sex — interesting.
invisible spider — totally creepy.
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captain and tennille singing midnight at the oasis

I loved “Midnight at the Oasis”, but the idea of C & T singing it gives me the willies.

Remember “Love Will Keep Us Together”? So here’s a wacky thing. I distinctly remember loving this song when I was about 10 or 11 — except that it didn’t come out until I was 14 or 15. Sheesh. Memory is a slippery storyteller. When I follow the trail back, I can see that yes, I was older — I remember hearing the song on the radio constantly when I spent time with my dad in Daytona Beach one summer (*waves at father through the internet*). And so of course I wasn’t 10. Maybe I just felt really immature — that certainly was a feature of my adolescence, the belief that everyone was growing up (or already there) except me.
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dangerous space (collection 2007) contents

How nice of you to be interested! The contents are:

“Strings”
“And Salome Danced”
“City Life” (originally published as “The Hum of Human Cities”)
“Eye of the Storm”
“Somewhere Down the Diamondback Road”
“Dangerous Space”
“Alien Jane”

(linked stories are available free on this site)
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Friday pint

Every Friday I transfer posts here from the Virtual Pint archives.

This is the most absent I’ve been from the blog in a while. I appreciate the patience of those of you who are still being patient (grin). I’ll be back soon, with new stories. In the meantime, here are some old stories that I hope you will enjoy.

Wishing you well.

Wonderland (June 2005) — In which Alice returns briefly to sit on the other side of the table.

Writing and words (July 2005) — Writing and rewriting, weaving words.

The word road (July 2005) — I said in this post that I was starting to see my writing as a highway. That’s even more true now. More and more clearly, I see that my work is not necessarily about me, but it is certainly a map of me, a journey, a road.