Thursday, March 31, 2005

On Making the time/ Upcoming trip to California

Heather as well
Originally uploaded by mchughtie.
Visiting Heather is a pleasure in the Symbolic sense. It is part reminder that we have one shot at this game called life and part reminder that we can play this game however we feel like. For example, we can drive soberly through wine country, or drink sympathetically on the steps of a monestary. We can also jump on a trampoline in a moldy trailer watching Xena the Warrier princess on DVD without apologizing for the beautiful sunshine trickling through the redwoods right outside our door, because it's our time, and we design it how we will.

Monday, March 28, 2005


Originally uploaded by mchughtie.
There were 365 days in 2004. How many of those mattered? How many of those did you spend shaping your life the way you wanted it?

Friday, March 25, 2005


Originally uploaded by mchughtie.
Look at your rosy cheeked friends in the tavern, sharing beers and a bit of spotlight. Isn't this cozy? Everything familiar, everything fine, everything fun is about to change. You will now begin folding up the life you know into neat little piles, labelling them "finished" "deferred" or "accompanying," and do what you need to do with them. Why is this happening? What would you feel like if you were still only thinking about it? What comes next anyway? Maybe, and just maybe, you are leaving it all so you can really know just how wonderful it is when you see it from somewhere else.

Friday, March 18, 2005

You really can't put a price on fun

Originally uploaded by mchughtie.
Remember shorts? Remember the daisies that line your steps in June? Remember not knowing what day it is, let alone what time of day? Remember dancing by yourself in your living room? Courting disaster by chucking your whole body into the ground? Chacos? Two buck chuck? Late nights, early mornings and naps? Reading books in a field with your friends? Prying open a crusty book in your garage?

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

Blowing my perfectly good youth

Coastal Angst
Originally uploaded by mchughtie.
Emerson, at 19, asked "Has any other educated person lived so many years, yet lost so many days?" Um, pick me. Aren't we all kind of overflowing with potential? Isn't it creepy how that potential sort of hides out in the side of your head, sighing melodramatically at you every time you pick up the remote or click "post entry"? I wish my potential would back off, lower its expectations a bit.

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

Note to a person who grunts in my general direction.

Dead Rat
Originally uploaded by mchughtie.
The vital signs are sadly dissappearing from the once happy, if timid soul I watch from time to time.
Should I let people stagnate in their pointless relationships while I suffer from their undulating suckiness? I've come to terms with the idea that people will do what they will do, and I can harbor nothing for respect for people when they are doing what makes their spirit sing, even if everyone else thinks it's dumb. I've done my share of wasting my time with people I shouldn't have, for sure. But I cannot, will not, shall not condone the stupidity of a codependant relationship that propagates the notion that others should be available at your call, (say, a midnight call just to illuminate how needy you are?) or that your lover should be your only friend (because you fear the truth, that they may find happiness you can't provide in those other people), or that life begins and ends between your partner's shift, and you must assault them before and after. This idea, in fact, disgusts me to the point of actually wanting to "intervene," a practice I don't generally agree with. I wonder, for your sake, if you know how great it feels to do what you like, to love your freedom, to admire the freedom in another, or do you derive your ultimate satisfaction from wrapping someone up in your cowardly cocoon and warding off the world they once knew? Just, you know, curious.

Monday, March 07, 2005

Why it's okay to hate beaches

Originally uploaded by mchughtie.
It is a quiet whiteness, water and sand, sand and water, interacting indefinitely. The beach is a sensory underload, a stretch of rehab beige awaiting the imprint of your ass as you formulate what you might do when you are done doing nothing at the beach. No, you think, defending the picnickers, showboats and metal-hounds who make their way to the shore daily, it is wonderful to spread your agenda across the blank canvas of a beautiful beach, to unwrap your foiled hot dog, to lay out your towel and fry. But if you hate that, it's okay too, because the world you know ends at the edge of the sand. The lesson, you already knew it, that there is nothing in the world to do, slaps along the sand, telling you over and over again that you don't have to find happiness in beauty if you don't feel like it.

Thursday, March 03, 2005


Originally uploaded by mchughtie.
I'd like you to meet Heather, my sister, and her boyfriend, Ted. As a combined force, they provide a lot of hair to the world that might not have otherwise been there. Let's extend a huge "thankyou" to them when we have the chance. Here is something about Ted: He contributed a lot of inspiration to my first one-act play "Spirit in Flesh" (You will learn about this later.) He is also to thank for the line "Hooters: the degradation of strippping without all that pesky cash." Here now, is something about Heather: She is the person I am most genetically similar to in all the world. What does this mean? It is god's way of saying "har, har." But a real thing about Heather: she is smart. She was my muse for a comic book I wrote about a genetically engineered eggplant that could talk. Heather understands that the world is a joke, but she got that joke so long ago that she doesn't think it's funny anymore. Heather is smarter than you or me, but she won't wave it in your face.

Wednesday, March 02, 2005


Originally uploaded by mchughtie.
Allow me to introduce you to my band. Ms Caroline Martin, Mr. Arn Albertini and myself. We are called DeadMAd. We don't practice a lot, but we don't really need to. Our best song is about Ally Sheedy's Dandruff, you can't make this stuff up.