Author: John Bollwitt

Rainy, dreary days are that which I am not fond of. Thunderstorms? Now we’re talking. They used to scare the crap out of me as a kid. They still do, but the fascination factor plays into things quite a bit. Watching the thunderheads off on the horizon. The thrill of the wall cloud passing over head and wind nearly knocking you over. Lightning so close that as soon as you see it, thunder announces that you are fortunate to not be fried like an egg. I love that. The boom is maddening enough to make you heartbeat quicken. If it can make me jump, all the more better. Call it the thrill seeker in me. It’s unpredictable. It could kill you. It’s fun.

Mike is on route once again. Before the sun was up, he was in the air with his crew. They say this one will be for two months. There is comfort in that. The destination is better than his last, but far from being the safest place on earth. I talked to him yesterday on the phone. Of course he’s not happy to go, but it’s all apart of the job. The guy has been to more parts of the world that I can even hope to see. At the same time, I don’t think I’d like to see them the way that he has. Regardless, I’m here to support him. I don’t like war of any kind, but this forum was never intended for any discussion of my political thoughts. He’s my brother, and I’m behind him and his squadron one hundred percent. Whatever brings them all home soon and safe.

A storm is brewing. Smells like rain. Time to end this in case the power goes out.

What is it about hair stylists? There is this unwritten rule, at least to me, that while getting your hair cut, or done, if you prefer, conversation must take place between yourself and the person working the mop on top of your head. Naturally, silence would be uncomfortable, so in its essence, this all makes complete sense. However, it is the nature of the conversation that always gets me. It doesn’t annoy me, but I seriously have to choke back laughter.

You sit down in the chair, they drape the anti-hair-falling-down-your-collar device, or devices, depending on the type of place you go to, ask you about how you want your hair, and off you go. Depending on the person cutting my hair, they grab their scissors or clippers, stare at the state of my head in the mirror, and begin. Every time, without failure, there is the key moment.

“So…”

Do I live in town? What do I do? What did I study? What do you do for fun? Wow, do you talk on the air at all? Where do you work? So that’s, like, technical and stuff, right? Where are you from originally? What type of music do you listen to? Oh, do you know so and so?

Do they teach this to them in cosmetology school? A specific class on how to initiate painful conversation. I bet I could be a professor and teach such a thing. Seriously, ask me about my job some time and I’ll have fun watching your eyes glaze over.

Look, I think it’s time we talk…

A few months ago, I made a decision that affects your involvement in my life. It has reached a point where a lot of things are changing for the both of us. Together, we have grown a lot. For nearly four years, we have seen two continents and many states. Every time, you were there for me. Hours on end, you’d keep me comfy and cozy.

There are so many great memories. Riding the Ginza Line and drinking beer on the train. Driving back home, alone, from Kansas City for the first time, trying to forget about the night before where I fell asleep in the bathroom after a night on The Plaza with Angie. All those times you kept me company walking back and forth to the station when I was putting the air studio back together. I had no clue as to what I had gotten myself into, but when I left for the day, your sound was always there to help take that stress away. Countless, countless times of listening to you in the car. How can I forget any of that?

Now listen to me… I want you to know that it’s not you, it’s me. Times have changed. I can’t be bogged down with carrying your things around all the time. It’s just too much baggage. I can’t handle that anymore. And you skip. Ok, so it’s not just me, but I still do love you. Like I said, we’ve had great times together. It’s just time for me to move on. And yeah, I have sort of found some one new. You just have to understand, our time has come to an end.

Sure, I’ll come back and visit from time to time. Eventually, those times will become less and less. We’ll turn into a memory. Every time I think about you, I’ll smile. And yes, I will miss you, but that pain is bound to heal over time. You’ll be fine. And I’ll do my best to help you find a new home.

I’m sorry, but you’re just not like my iPod. I just can’t keep carrying around all these minidiscs for the rest of my life. I’m so sorry, but one day, you’ll understand.

Reworking your resume is a hard thing to do. Before this who radio thing actually started to kick in, I was taught to push all the experience that I possibly had to just make myself look like some one you should hire. Now it’s a matter of refinement and references. Picking out people who you want to give you a good name is not the easiest thing. The part where you actually ask the person is intimidating. You’ve chosen them to say, “Yes, you should hire this guy because, quite frankly, he’s the guy.” In the end, this is just a roll of the dice. That degree is still in the cards.

I look at Jeff who is now pursuing his dream and I consider him lucky. His job is to do radio play-by-play for high school sports. Baseball, softball, basketball, and, hopefully this fall, football. We had a hell of a good time working together, doing the whole college radio thing. Sure, he’s not making loads of money, but he loves sports. Trust me, I know this from the conversations that found us both at some level of intoxication.

If I don’t take this chance, I might miss my opportunity. I can take everyone’s advice and do things the usual way. On the other hand, I can push to determine my own destiny. I have no inclination as to which one is wrong or right in terms of what I should do. However, I’m writing my own book. It’s safe to say that I have been doing that from day one. Since when have I ever really cared about what others thought? I’ve made my mistakes and learned from them, but this is something much bigger. Where I’m at is just a step in that general direction.

In the meantime, go here and play. Made me laugh.

A weekend that was everything I could hope for and more. Nothing spectacular. Just good. Troubled Hubble show was great as always. For some reason, every time I see them, there is something that makes the show different than the last one. Perhaps it’s the set list, atmosphere, or the alcohol, but it’s always a treat. The night was also a CD release party for the new solo album by Kathryn Musilek, bass player for Burn Disco Burn. Really great set. She is such a talented individual. Ah yes, the music is alive and well in this town.

That show was interesting in its social regards. Of course, Muffin and Bill made it out. To my surprise, so did Ryan. Suddenly there was a small lounge gathering from freshman year of college. Some things change, other just don’t. I haven’t laughed so hard in ages. Deidre even brought Vanessa out to break her into the goodness. And then I saw crap loads of other folks from times passed. I turned out to be quite the social butterfly. It was good to see them all.

Of course, hanging out with Muffin over the weekend was a blast as usual. He says he might be back a few more times before he leaves for Kansas. I say, that’s cool.

Oh… New pictures in the gallery from the fun had this weekend.

Holy crap summer is here. You can tell this because it’s cold in the station and sweltering outside. You walk into the place sweating. Ten minutes later, you’re freezing. I feel bad for leaving the apartment with a t-shirt, pants, and flip-flips on, walking past all the folks with the shorts, but I have to plan accordingly. It sucks, but life could be worse. At least I don’t have to dress up for work. Nothing wrong with it, but it seems that anytime I decide to wear something nice, those are the days that see me getting my hands dirty out at one of the transmitter sites or something. Weird thing today… Standing in the tech room, there are three phones on their own lines for myself, Steve, and Jim. All at once, they started ringing. Freaked me out as I was standing in equal distance of them all. Stupid telemarketers.

I bought a new blender. It’s a mighty fine blender. Kind of loud for these apartment walls, but oh well. Nothing will stand in the way of me and my smoothie. It even has a travel cup that you can blend in, as well as a forty-eight ounce pitcher. Great for the margaritas, which was already pointed out by my mother. If some one were to come over, say a good friend, I would blend something for them with my new blender. It’s a good blender. It might not be the best, but it’s my blender. You could be my friend, and I would blend something for you.

“Things that make John happy” number one has arrived. My very own MIDI keyboard. Let the fun begin. Two more to go.

This weekend is gearing up to be a good one, and it’s only Wednesday. How sweet is that? Another double remote on Friday, but that night will see Troubled Hubble at Gabe’s. On top of that, Muffin decided that he needs to make a visit. He’ll be in town that night as well. Rumor has it, Bill will make an appearance, being all lawyer-like. Deidre has made mention of the event, so it should be pretty good. I just hope I can keep my strength after a long day.

Interesting story about my niece, Josie. Appears that the computer they have at home had a hard drive failure. When they cracked open the case to replace it, no CD drive. My dad recalled how at one point in the past, they found that Josie had shoved two CD’s into the slot plus some change and a “large key”. This all happened some time ago, but I had not heard of this story. Rolled when I read the email this morning. Too funny.

Feliz Cinco de Mayo! My mexican blood tells me that I must have at least one, if not two, margaritas before this day is over.

This week has started off with a bang. Flying out of the gates, issues popped up here and there. One of those times where I am incredibly thankful for all the things I am able to understand and accomplish. Up to my neck with things going wrong, and everyone’s problem is more important than everyone else. At that point, I almost wish that I was purely stupid. I wish I didn’t know a thing. But, you put out the fires as quick as you can with the only two arms that you were born with. I go back into my office at the end of the day, fall into the chair, think for a second, and quickly pack up for home.

My grandpa Louie would have been eighty-five years old today. He left us almost two years ago. He was an incredible human being all the way. Just thinking about him makes me smile. There are so many stories that seem to just fly out when family gets together. So many of them that just make you laugh until your belly hurts.

When I was in high school, he would give me all sorts of trouble when I would be heading out with my friends. In turn, they would be getting ready for bed. “You going honky-tonking?!?!” A term that still creeps up with my family. An inside joke, if you will. However, I understand that grandpa did his fair share of honky-tonking back in the day. He and my grandmother would go down to where the big bands played and dance during the true days of swing.

Grandpa’s chair… It’s still there. It was his chair. When we would visit, you could always sit in that chair. When grandpa came into the room, you got out and let him have it. He would sit their and watch the Kansas City Royals. Novellas. The news. He would also take his famed naps. Grandma always hated for him to fall asleep in that chair because then he wouldn’t sleep at night, in turn not letting her sleep through the night. She’d yell at him from the kitchen, “Louie! Wake up!,” followed by a string of words spoken in spanish, english, or both. I would even take my responsibility to sneak up on him and help grandma out. Never really mattered. Once no one was in the room with him, he’d nod off again. To this day, that’s still his chair.

My grandfather is an inspiration to me. His passing was tough. It still is. That goes for all of us in the family. Perhaps it’s just something about families with hispanic blood, I don’t know. I say that because when he died, I’ll never forget the night of his wake. Pizza, beer, and laughter in the dining room of his house. It was very hard to tell that he was gone forever. It was a celebration of his life, and he deserved that. He was a great man, but those words are not good enough to sum up grandpa Louie. I hope to live up to who he was, but I don’t think that I can ever surpass that. He lived life in a totally different league, during a completely different space and time.

I miss him. I always do my best to take time and remember.

This town is gearing up to empty out. The suburbanites will soon retreat to their humble abodes back to the east, and parking spaces will once again become plenty. This is the time of year where this city comes into its prime. The whole town breathes a collective sigh and things start to open up. Depending on the night, you can get a guy with a guitar, a violin, or even both to play you a song on the street. Of course, small donations are accepted, and I give them when I have the cash on me. Remember, they’re starving artists, so give them at least a dollar plus the loose change in your pocket. That’s my rule.

Perhaps the live music downtown isn’t the greatest in terms of my, or your, taste, it’s still live music. That is the most important fact to keep in mind. I found out the other day that we’ll be on the air from the Ped Mall for this year’s Jazzfest, so that will be a good time. A incredibly long, hot day, but good time. What I am really looking forward to is the Orquesta Alto Maiz. Where else in this area will you hear such incredible salsa music on this type of scale? What I really need to do is to learn how to salsa. Perhaps what should be first on that list is a good “salsa partner”.

To lighten the spirits even more, I got the email confirmation for the next camp out, so the date is set for the end of June. Eric’s making the trip as well as Heath and his new bride. I’m sure the usual suspects will be there among some new friends. Hopefully we can avoid the rain this year and play more ultimate. I love the summertime.

There once was a man named Heath. The beginning of my college career saw me living with this man. And the word “man” is really an understatement. Heath is a big guy. A teddy bear, if you will. At the age of eighteen, he could pass for at least thirty-five. Trust me on that fact. We were able to get beer a few times that way. And in my sophomore year, we shared a dorm room together. Sadly, Heath didn’t last that first semester, nor was he ever around all that much. Perhaps there’s a correlation there, but who cares? That’s Heath for you.

He tried school again, but nothing seemed to completely click. What everyone does when such things happen to them, he went to New Zealand. A work visa and a year or two later, an email surfaces and says he is off to China. Fast forward closer to today, he’s back stateside. With a wife. Wedding party is in October. Confused? Yeah, me too, but it will be great to see Heath again.

With all the long hours I have been putting into this career that I have found myself in, I have a series of rewards coming to myself. Your average things that make John happy. It is so going to rule.