Weeknotes: September 20 – October 3, 2025
Monday, September 29
I'm in a blue jeans drought. I have a couple pairs I feel okay in, but neither of them is my favorite. When the world is in chaos, you have to have at least one pair of jeans you love.
After work I carve a soap dish from a hunk of cedar fence plank in my shed. I've obsessed over buying a soap dish for weeks, but keep putting it off. I blame the specific dimensions of my sink, but really I'm just indecisive and spend too much time deliberating over small stuff in order to avoid the big stuff. Once again, a bit of DIY effort saves the day.
Weeknotes: June 16–20, 2025
Monday, June 16
"Those metal things you smash with a hammer to secure a loop of metal cable?"
"Ah, I know what you're talking about. Ferrules?"
"Yes! Pity the ferrule."
I'm at Ypsi Hardware where they translate pedestrian into practical. I leave with two small ferrules, costing $3.10. It's the summer of thrift. I want to spiff up the yard, but I'm trying to rely on stuff that's free, cheap, or already in my possession. Last Saturday was the College Heights neighborhood yard sale, the sequel to Normal Park's where I procured the two metal fish now swaying in my garden. Held back-to-back on the first two Saturdays of June, College Heights is usually as lively as its predecessor, though it seemed to me a little diminished this year.
On the ride there I found a $20 bill on campus and took it as a good omen. I spent $2 on a lemon muffin from a platter of homemade pastries on Roosevelt Street. Next, I bought a bird feeder I didn't need for $5, and immediately regretted it. I cruised down beautiful Cambridge Street, one of my favorite little neighborhoods in town, then west to Collegewood where, leaning against a tree with a "free" sign attached, was the hammer rail of a small upright piano. Jackpot.
Unlike last week's fish, this prize could not be transported under one arm or strapped to my bike rack. I hammered out several fevered messages to nearby friends with cars and Greg was my first responder.
Tonight's goal is to mount the piano hammers along the back fence behind my fish. With a pair of old tin snips I slowly maul the end of some steel cable that was once a zipline leash system I'd bought for Islay. She hated it and after only a year it was mercifully knocked down by a large branch during an ice storm. I stuff the frayed ends of cable through my two ferrules and smash them closed, creating a wire mount on the back of the hammer casing. With these three whimsical items — the two fish and the piano guts — I now have the beginnings of a sculpture garden.
A Story About a River
I live just a couple blocks from the Huron River. If you’re a regular reader, you may know something about my fondness for it. I cross it almost every day either on foot or by car or bicycle. I paddle my kayak on it. I like to stand in the middle of the Forest Street bridge and watch the river’s progress through Frog Island Park. I was born on a bluff overlooking the Huron at old St. Joe’s in Ann Arbor, and for most of my life have lived within a few miles of some segment of it. It’s my home river.
Earlier this year I was asked to compose a piece of music for the Huron River Watershed Council, Southeast Michigan’s oldest environmental group. I’ve worked with them before, many years ago, when Great Lakes Myth Society was hired to play at a couple of their fundraisers. They’ve been stewards of the river for over half a century. My friend Donald Harrison was hired to film a short video celebrating HRWC’s 60th anniversary, and he collected hours of gorgeous river footage which was whittled down into this succinct three-minute piece for which I provided the soundtrack. Donald’s wife, Jeanne Hodesh, came onboard to do the voice-over which we recorded in a makeshift vocal booth at my house. It’s a collaboration with people I love, made sweeter by the fact that it promotes a cause very close to my heart. We need the HRWC and groups like them now, more than ever.
Weeknotes: November 11–15, 2024
On WCBN the DJ plays four Alvvays songs in a row. I think about driving to Cleveland with Serge this past spring to see them play the Agora Ballroom. We had a fun night. Ever since, I've wanted to title a song "Alvvays in Cleveland." My brother and his girlfriend went to Cleveland a couple weeks ago to see the Mongolian folk metal band the Hu and visited the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame for the first time. I told him to give my regards to Colin Blunstone's sweater. He sent me a picture with the caption "I am changed."
Last Known Address
No Weeknotes this week. My heart wears the black armband of mourning, yet it’s for a tragedy shared by less than half of my country. I don’t really know how to process that, so that’s all I’m going to say for now. Instead, please allow me to direct you to something that brings me a great sense of pride.
Tournotes: July 17–19, 2024
Wednesday, July 17
Just after highway marker 334 on I-75, the bridge suddenly appears on the horizon. Depending on the atmosphere it may be a hazy mirage jutting out of the woods or a sharp relief of cream-colored gates against the blue. Today the weather is dramatic and I make my crossing to Dina Ögon's pastoral "Oas" while freighters churn into the straits from sunny Lake Michigan. To the east, stormclouds fall across Lake Huron in a foreboding smear above the three nearby islands. Dead ahead is an uncertain mix of gray and white over the green expanse of the Upper Peninsula. Crossing the Mackinac Bridge is never not special. Midway through, the right lane is cordoned off where two workers in hazmat suits blast flakes of Federal Standard 595c #14110 (foliage green) off the massive suspension cables with a firehose. I don't think I have ever crossed without encountering some type of maintenance. At the toll booth in St. Ignace I pay my own fare and that of the car behind me, a custom I learned years ago from K.
River Notes: May 24, 2024
Friday, May 24
10:50 A.M. - I finish strapping my kayak onto the roof rack of my little hatchback which looks very sporty in summer mode. When I install them in the spring, the distinctive Yakima JayHooks poke up just enough to help me locate my car in grocery store parking lots. I also like to imagine they add an air of mystery or at least suggest to passersby that the person who drives this economy car is still sporty and adventurous even if they no longer own a Jeep.
An Anniversary
This festive, distorted video was shot exactly 20 years ago at Jacoby’s, a German bar in Detroit’s Bricktown neighborhood. Back then, in the thick of our artistic heyday, we would never have used the term "rebrand," but that's what it was. February 21, 2004 marked the first gig by Great Lakes Myth Society, the band who for seven years prior had operated as the Original Brothers and Sisters of Love (TOBASOL, colloquially).