I went to my first ever St. Louis Writer's Guild meeting tonight. I kept wanting to go to events, but decided that family came first, especially since my family has just expanded.
But, Juliette turned six weeks old today. Pfft, old hat now! Daughter, I am so over you (For the record, extreme sarcasm, I will never, ever be over Juliette).
Well, every other month they have a speaker on a Thursday night, and tonight's speaker happened to be St. Louis Writer's Guild Historian Brad Cook's lecture about researching your novel. So, I figured I'd attend, it sounded interesting enough.
It was a lot of fun. It seems like it would be boring, a bunch of writers sitting in a Barnes & Noble, talking about methods of researching period-specific clothes, events, houses, etc. But it wasn't...it was a good time. And, I made a good impression on the people, I think. Everybody was happy to have somebody young there, anyway, so I guess it's up to me to bring some other young people in.
So, young readers (who are also writers maybe), anyone want to join the Guild with me? They have fun events, including readings in the Eliot room at the Schlafly Tap Room. So, a good excuse to hang out with other writers and drink beer...eh? Eh?
My training as a real estate record researcher came in handy, tonight. One of the other members of the guild asked how she could go about finding out who owned a particular house in the late nineteenth century. I talked to her afterwards about how to go about doing that, and she was very happy to have asked the question because I was so knowledgeable. Unfortunately, I can not take time out of my schedule to go do this search for her in Springfield, IL, which I think she was secretly hoping for, but the research experience will be good for her, I maintain.
Anyway, since I was out until nine this evening, there are some things that need to get done around the house which must get done before bed. And since it's almost bed time, I should get to it. So, I'ma go get to it.
See you all later.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Friday, September 10, 2010
New
So, regular readers and link-clickers will be aware that my sister has a blog that is dedicated to her family, and in particular her daughters Madeline and Lydia.
I contemplated doing similar posts on this blog. I mean, why not? If anything, it would make me post more. But then, you'd probably get a lot of "Holy Crap, there was crap everywhere!" posts which, if you're coming for the writing, may not be what you're looking for.
Those who are glad to avoid reading such posts need read no further than the next sentence. You can keep coming here to read all about my writing, trials and tribulations with writing, excuses why I'm not writing, and occasional odd excerpts from my writing. Those who do want to read the kind of family oriented whatnot, can head over to StL Hipster Dad. The first post is actually a review of Arcade Fire's new album The Suburbs thinly veiled as sentimentality and love for my daughter. Enjoy!
I contemplated doing similar posts on this blog. I mean, why not? If anything, it would make me post more. But then, you'd probably get a lot of "Holy Crap, there was crap everywhere!" posts which, if you're coming for the writing, may not be what you're looking for.
Those who are glad to avoid reading such posts need read no further than the next sentence. You can keep coming here to read all about my writing, trials and tribulations with writing, excuses why I'm not writing, and occasional odd excerpts from my writing. Those who do want to read the kind of family oriented whatnot, can head over to StL Hipster Dad. The first post is actually a review of Arcade Fire's new album The Suburbs thinly veiled as sentimentality and love for my daughter. Enjoy!
Monday, August 30, 2010
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Paternity Leave
I'm sure you've all noticed the sudden lack of new posts, and for that, I make no apology other than to say see my previous post. I've got very little time these days, it seems, with adjusting to this crazy awesome new little human being living in my house, with all the visitors streaming in bringing food and eager baby-yearning open arms, and with all the sleep I am not getting. So if the blog kind of falls to the wayside, you would do well, readers, to understand.
Just an update: Juliette is still doing great. Coming home was easier than I thought it would be, and at this point, it's hard to remember life without her. It's easy to see that I am enamored of her; my desktop background on my work computer has always been a silly picture from the internet but now it is my daughter. I even brought in my very first ever physical photograph in a frame and placed it on my desk - a picture of Juliette asleep on my chest. It's something special, I'll tell you, being a father. Even though I'm still very new at it, it's one of the most exciting adventures I've ever been on.
And the good things just seem to keep on happening, too. Monday, as I drove home from work (with the windows down and the radio up because even though it's August in St. Louis it was unseasonably gorgeous), the very first sentence of my novel fell from the sky, through my open moonroof and into my brain. I have been stuck on how to begin my novel since, well, since I began my novel. There's an event (it's no secret, I've said it before, the death of the narrator's father) that I was not sure where to place. Does it take place before the novel begins? In the first chapter? The first page? Later? The first sentence was my answer; the very first sentence saved my sanity and sparked my creativity.
You want to read my first sentence? Really? Okay.
Go buy my book when it comes out.
Zing!
But seriously, I think I'm done posting excerpts and rough chapter fragments from the book for a while. I need to hunker down and write the thing, so it gets done. I'd like to have a complete draft done by March, not completed but with enough polish and revision that it's readable and marketable. So no more dilly-dallying.
So...a few weeks ago I promised album reviews. I have not delivered. I have yet another album review I want to do, but I won't let myself until I get the two I promised done. So the third might just not happen.
Look for those at a future date.
Just an update: Juliette is still doing great. Coming home was easier than I thought it would be, and at this point, it's hard to remember life without her. It's easy to see that I am enamored of her; my desktop background on my work computer has always been a silly picture from the internet but now it is my daughter. I even brought in my very first ever physical photograph in a frame and placed it on my desk - a picture of Juliette asleep on my chest. It's something special, I'll tell you, being a father. Even though I'm still very new at it, it's one of the most exciting adventures I've ever been on.
And the good things just seem to keep on happening, too. Monday, as I drove home from work (with the windows down and the radio up because even though it's August in St. Louis it was unseasonably gorgeous), the very first sentence of my novel fell from the sky, through my open moonroof and into my brain. I have been stuck on how to begin my novel since, well, since I began my novel. There's an event (it's no secret, I've said it before, the death of the narrator's father) that I was not sure where to place. Does it take place before the novel begins? In the first chapter? The first page? Later? The first sentence was my answer; the very first sentence saved my sanity and sparked my creativity.
You want to read my first sentence? Really? Okay.
Go buy my book when it comes out.
Zing!
But seriously, I think I'm done posting excerpts and rough chapter fragments from the book for a while. I need to hunker down and write the thing, so it gets done. I'd like to have a complete draft done by March, not completed but with enough polish and revision that it's readable and marketable. So no more dilly-dallying.
So...a few weeks ago I promised album reviews. I have not delivered. I have yet another album review I want to do, but I won't let myself until I get the two I promised done. So the third might just not happen.
Look for those at a future date.
Friday, August 06, 2010
Juliette Adrianna
Juliette Adrianna
8/5/2010 at 7:17 AM
6 lbs 3 oz
19 3/4"
Baby, mom, and dad all doing well.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Modest Proposal Monday - Taxes
I do not pretend to be the Jonathan Swift of the 21st Century. All I'm trying to be is the me of the 21st Century. That having been said, I love Swift's Modest Proposal and believe it to be one of the best pieces of pure snark of all time. Of all time.
So, with that in mind, a new feature that will crop up every once in a great while; Modest Proposal Mondays.
===
There has been a lot of discussion-political discussion-lately about the merits of our tax-based social systems. There are those on the left who believe the social services should be expanded, and paid for by those who have more than enough money to get by. You know, help your fellow man, all that good stuff that you find in that one book, I can't remember what it's called right now...oh, right, The Bible. On the right, you've got the people who think it's just a social safety net, and that it should be removed outright, that taxes should be lowered or eliminated. Then, there are those in the middle, who believe a moderate system of social security and government sponsored supports for those without means can take advantage of when needed. But certainly the most vocal support is coming from the right, and I've heard quite a lot of it.
And, strange enough, I'm starting to come around to their way of thinking.
So, today, I modestly propose that we give in to the ideology of the Tea Party movement, and completely abolish taxes and any services they may pay for.
I can already hear some of you complaining, but let's look at two services that are going to be cut that will actually be beneficial to everyone; road maintenance and education.
The way road maintenance is paid for now is through a national gasoline tax. States and local municipalities also use extra tax for this purpose. What that means is that federal highways are paid for by the national gas tax, state roads by the state tax, etc. This means that, depending on your state, county and city, you could be paying taxes four times on every gallon of gas you buy. What the crap? And how do you know that the money is being wisely spent? What about that tiny pothole in front of your house? Does that every get any federal, state, or local attention? Probably not! No, they're busy taking your money and rebuilding bridges you never use, paving roads you don't live near and making it easier for people you've never met to get to their jobs at companies you never do business with. Many of these people use these roads to go to their local unemployment offices to get more of your money just for sitting on their lazy asses, or they go to free, tax-payer financed clinics for medical care (something you pay for through your private health insurance), or they go to other Socialist meetings like poetry readings or, shock of shocks, the symphony (which, by the way, might also be partially financed through your municipal taxes).
So what I modestly propose is that we place a permanent moratorium on the gasoline taxes, and instead use the money we save on gasoline to pay a private company or individual to fix the roads we use every day. That way, you can find somebody who will make sure that your route to and from work is always smooth sailing, and you won't have to pay for construction on a highway you've never even heard of before.
Of course, many might suggest that people of lower incomes may not be able to afford to hire anybody to fix their roads. Well, their loss, right? They are saving just as much per gallon of gas as you are, there is no reason they shouldn't put that money towards road repair. If their jobs don't pay them enough, they should find new jobs that do! In fact, they could learn how to repair roads, which would solve a lot of problems! You could hire them to repair your road, which they will do while you are at work. When their work day is done, they already have the skills to go home and fix their own roads. And most employers offer discounts to their employees, so they will be getting a better rate than you will! It works out for everyone, see? Plus, with all the new companies springing up to fix roads, you'll be able to shop around and get the best price, rather than relying on the government's one price monopoly.
Now when it comes to education, I hear you whining, what are people who can't afford to send their children to private schools going to do when the liberal public schools close? Well, the children can always apply for scholarships if they're smart. And if they're not, the parents shouldn't have too much trouble paying for school once they start earning more money building roads that go from the teachers' houses to the school, right? It'll be fantastic for everyone! As far as higher education goes, many lower income students may not be able to attend college simply due to lack of funds. If they can't get a scholarship, they can apply for loans from a bank, which will be better than loans from the government because, again, you'll have many more options from which to choose! And if they still can't get into college, you don't need a bachelor's degree to fix roads, do you?
This doesn't just hold for roads, though. Fire departments, long a socialist establishment, will be privatized and only the best will be hired. Of course, with the many different departments which will be formed, you will have multiple pricing options to choose from should your home catch fire. So even the lower income families will be able to find cut rate fire protection should they need it. Same goes for police protection, lending libraries (lower late fees because you pay for each book you borrow!)...the list goes on.
When you replace one government controlled institution with multiple privatized options, you get a variety of pricepoints and services which better serve the community, and you will always be assured that you are getting the best deal you can possibly afford. Not to mention that with so many companies being formed, unemployment will virtually vanish! It's the ultimate in no-lose situations!
So, with that in mind, a new feature that will crop up every once in a great while; Modest Proposal Mondays.
===
There has been a lot of discussion-political discussion-lately about the merits of our tax-based social systems. There are those on the left who believe the social services should be expanded, and paid for by those who have more than enough money to get by. You know, help your fellow man, all that good stuff that you find in that one book, I can't remember what it's called right now...oh, right, The Bible. On the right, you've got the people who think it's just a social safety net, and that it should be removed outright, that taxes should be lowered or eliminated. Then, there are those in the middle, who believe a moderate system of social security and government sponsored supports for those without means can take advantage of when needed. But certainly the most vocal support is coming from the right, and I've heard quite a lot of it.
And, strange enough, I'm starting to come around to their way of thinking.
So, today, I modestly propose that we give in to the ideology of the Tea Party movement, and completely abolish taxes and any services they may pay for.
I can already hear some of you complaining, but let's look at two services that are going to be cut that will actually be beneficial to everyone; road maintenance and education.
The way road maintenance is paid for now is through a national gasoline tax. States and local municipalities also use extra tax for this purpose. What that means is that federal highways are paid for by the national gas tax, state roads by the state tax, etc. This means that, depending on your state, county and city, you could be paying taxes four times on every gallon of gas you buy. What the crap? And how do you know that the money is being wisely spent? What about that tiny pothole in front of your house? Does that every get any federal, state, or local attention? Probably not! No, they're busy taking your money and rebuilding bridges you never use, paving roads you don't live near and making it easier for people you've never met to get to their jobs at companies you never do business with. Many of these people use these roads to go to their local unemployment offices to get more of your money just for sitting on their lazy asses, or they go to free, tax-payer financed clinics for medical care (something you pay for through your private health insurance), or they go to other Socialist meetings like poetry readings or, shock of shocks, the symphony (which, by the way, might also be partially financed through your municipal taxes).
So what I modestly propose is that we place a permanent moratorium on the gasoline taxes, and instead use the money we save on gasoline to pay a private company or individual to fix the roads we use every day. That way, you can find somebody who will make sure that your route to and from work is always smooth sailing, and you won't have to pay for construction on a highway you've never even heard of before.
Of course, many might suggest that people of lower incomes may not be able to afford to hire anybody to fix their roads. Well, their loss, right? They are saving just as much per gallon of gas as you are, there is no reason they shouldn't put that money towards road repair. If their jobs don't pay them enough, they should find new jobs that do! In fact, they could learn how to repair roads, which would solve a lot of problems! You could hire them to repair your road, which they will do while you are at work. When their work day is done, they already have the skills to go home and fix their own roads. And most employers offer discounts to their employees, so they will be getting a better rate than you will! It works out for everyone, see? Plus, with all the new companies springing up to fix roads, you'll be able to shop around and get the best price, rather than relying on the government's one price monopoly.
Now when it comes to education, I hear you whining, what are people who can't afford to send their children to private schools going to do when the liberal public schools close? Well, the children can always apply for scholarships if they're smart. And if they're not, the parents shouldn't have too much trouble paying for school once they start earning more money building roads that go from the teachers' houses to the school, right? It'll be fantastic for everyone! As far as higher education goes, many lower income students may not be able to attend college simply due to lack of funds. If they can't get a scholarship, they can apply for loans from a bank, which will be better than loans from the government because, again, you'll have many more options from which to choose! And if they still can't get into college, you don't need a bachelor's degree to fix roads, do you?
This doesn't just hold for roads, though. Fire departments, long a socialist establishment, will be privatized and only the best will be hired. Of course, with the many different departments which will be formed, you will have multiple pricing options to choose from should your home catch fire. So even the lower income families will be able to find cut rate fire protection should they need it. Same goes for police protection, lending libraries (lower late fees because you pay for each book you borrow!)...the list goes on.
When you replace one government controlled institution with multiple privatized options, you get a variety of pricepoints and services which better serve the community, and you will always be assured that you are getting the best deal you can possibly afford. Not to mention that with so many companies being formed, unemployment will virtually vanish! It's the ultimate in no-lose situations!
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Game Night
If you'll recall, last year I blogged about the Whitaker Music Festival which happens on Wednesdays in the summer here in the StL at the Botanical Gardens. Unfortunately, this year we've only attended twice; once with some family in town and once on a somewhat cool evening with a group of friends. Otherwise, it has been uniformly too hot and humid or, as was the case this last evening, too wet. Normally, we'd brave the heat but with the extra oppressiveness this year and with the baby still kicking a hole through Kathy's stomach, it just hasn't been feasible to attend.
So tonight, rather than sit around twiddling our thumbs by ourselves, Kathy and I invited Bunny and Bee over for dinner and board games. Bee brought along her new friend of the opposite sex, whom she refers to as McCartney on her blog so, why not? So, Bunny, Bee and McCartney come over...wait. That doesn't work. We've got a forest animal, a stinging insect, and then the last name of one of the greatest rock 'n' rolling Brits to ever grace us with his musical talents. Maybe I'll call him...Anglerfish. Just to stay with the animal motif.
See, this is why I don't make up nicknames on the blog...nicknames are something I'm no good at. So, in the interest of keeping it simple while protecting identities, Bunny is now J, Bee is now B, and Anglerfish is now C.
Got it?
So, A,B,C, and D were walking down the street when they ran into a very scared looking number. "What's your name?" A asked. "Six..." the number responded. "Why are you so scared?" B asked the number. Six looked around. "I'm afraid of seven..." There was a moment of silence. "Um...why are you afraid of seven?" C asked. "Good question," D nodded. Six looked around. "Because....seven ate nine!"
Whoa...where did I go there?
Okay, so, J, B, and C came over for some lasagna, though J decided against it because she has some sort of noodle phobia. Let's face it, I surround myself with interesting people. So she had a salad. The rest of us, being unafraid of noodles, consumed noodles. Then we had hot fudge sundaes for dessert. Now, we had a choice of vanilla or chocolate chip. Kathy asked for half and half. Um, Kathy? Chocolate chip is vanilla ice cream with chips of chocolate in it. But trying to use logic like that with a pregnant woman is a bad idea, I found out. So let that be a lesson to you.
After that, we listened to some jazz and classical records while playing Clue and Apples to Apples. Have you ever played Apples to Apples? That's a freaking amazingly awesome game. The basic premise of it is that one person reads a word from a green card, like, say, "Peaceful." Then the other players have to put down a red card with a word they think matches it in some way. Then the person who puts down the green card reads all the red cards, picks the best one, and thus the person who put the winning card down wins. So, "Peaceful" is the word, and let's say there are four other people playing. Somebody puts down, "Bedtime," while another person puts down "The Ocean." The third person puts down "My High School Prom" and the last person puts down "Ziggy Stardust." The strategy comes in about the second round, when you've seen how everybody chooses. Some people would pick something like "Bedtime" for that one while others would go for Ziggy Stardust every time. It's the best game of all time. Of all time.
So, we stayed cool and dry and still got to listen to some good music, while playing fun board games and getting to know C, who in turn got to be judged by myself, Kathy and J. I'm sure he had fun, though...right?
Right.
So tonight, rather than sit around twiddling our thumbs by ourselves, Kathy and I invited Bunny and Bee over for dinner and board games. Bee brought along her new friend of the opposite sex, whom she refers to as McCartney on her blog so, why not? So, Bunny, Bee and McCartney come over...wait. That doesn't work. We've got a forest animal, a stinging insect, and then the last name of one of the greatest rock 'n' rolling Brits to ever grace us with his musical talents. Maybe I'll call him...Anglerfish. Just to stay with the animal motif.
See, this is why I don't make up nicknames on the blog...nicknames are something I'm no good at. So, in the interest of keeping it simple while protecting identities, Bunny is now J, Bee is now B, and Anglerfish is now C.
Got it?
So, A,B,C, and D were walking down the street when they ran into a very scared looking number. "What's your name?" A asked. "Six..." the number responded. "Why are you so scared?" B asked the number. Six looked around. "I'm afraid of seven..." There was a moment of silence. "Um...why are you afraid of seven?" C asked. "Good question," D nodded. Six looked around. "Because....seven ate nine!"
Whoa...where did I go there?
Okay, so, J, B, and C came over for some lasagna, though J decided against it because she has some sort of noodle phobia. Let's face it, I surround myself with interesting people. So she had a salad. The rest of us, being unafraid of noodles, consumed noodles. Then we had hot fudge sundaes for dessert. Now, we had a choice of vanilla or chocolate chip. Kathy asked for half and half. Um, Kathy? Chocolate chip is vanilla ice cream with chips of chocolate in it. But trying to use logic like that with a pregnant woman is a bad idea, I found out. So let that be a lesson to you.
After that, we listened to some jazz and classical records while playing Clue and Apples to Apples. Have you ever played Apples to Apples? That's a freaking amazingly awesome game. The basic premise of it is that one person reads a word from a green card, like, say, "Peaceful." Then the other players have to put down a red card with a word they think matches it in some way. Then the person who puts down the green card reads all the red cards, picks the best one, and thus the person who put the winning card down wins. So, "Peaceful" is the word, and let's say there are four other people playing. Somebody puts down, "Bedtime," while another person puts down "The Ocean." The third person puts down "My High School Prom" and the last person puts down "Ziggy Stardust." The strategy comes in about the second round, when you've seen how everybody chooses. Some people would pick something like "Bedtime" for that one while others would go for Ziggy Stardust every time. It's the best game of all time. Of all time.
So, we stayed cool and dry and still got to listen to some good music, while playing fun board games and getting to know C, who in turn got to be judged by myself, Kathy and J. I'm sure he had fun, though...right?
Right.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
7/17
Today, I woke up early and mowed the lawn. I ran to Schnucks and picked up some milk, Bisquick, and Lindt truffles. I wished my wife a happy anniversary.
I got her a new camera. This may seem a bit much, considering we've got a monster digital SLR, but that's hard to tote around with you everywhere. So I got her a good pocket-sized digital. I got her a four gig memory card and a neoprene case she can carry it around in. Which will be good for when she and I are out with a kid.
She got me a much greater gift, though. I feel like she outdid me.
She gave me a membership in the St. Louis Writer's Guild.
She's awesome.
To celebrate our anniversary, we're actually going to spend a couple hours apart this afternoon. See, she's having a baby shower thrown for her, at our house, hosted by her friends Melinda and Heather. So while that's going on, Drew (Heather's boy friend) and I are going to go do something manly. We haven't totally decided yet, so maybe what we're going to do is be indecisive together. Though we might play mini golf. Afterward, Heather, Drew, Kathy and I (and possibly others) will be going out to dinner.
Happy 6th anniversary, Kathy!
I got her a new camera. This may seem a bit much, considering we've got a monster digital SLR, but that's hard to tote around with you everywhere. So I got her a good pocket-sized digital. I got her a four gig memory card and a neoprene case she can carry it around in. Which will be good for when she and I are out with a kid.
She got me a much greater gift, though. I feel like she outdid me.
She gave me a membership in the St. Louis Writer's Guild.
She's awesome.
To celebrate our anniversary, we're actually going to spend a couple hours apart this afternoon. See, she's having a baby shower thrown for her, at our house, hosted by her friends Melinda and Heather. So while that's going on, Drew (Heather's boy friend) and I are going to go do something manly. We haven't totally decided yet, so maybe what we're going to do is be indecisive together. Though we might play mini golf. Afterward, Heather, Drew, Kathy and I (and possibly others) will be going out to dinner.
Happy 6th anniversary, Kathy!
Upcoming...
I am working on two album reviews which should be up some time next week. I've got a busy weekend ahead, otherwise I'd finish them.
For the record, I will be reviewing Janelle Monáe's album The ArchAndroid: Suites II and III and Bettye Lavette's Interpretations: The British Songbook. So familiarize yourself with those two artists quickly.
Thanks.
For the record, I will be reviewing Janelle Monáe's album The ArchAndroid: Suites II and III and Bettye Lavette's Interpretations: The British Songbook. So familiarize yourself with those two artists quickly.
Thanks.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Shower
An update on the novel (which still has the working title Before Rock Attained Perfection but I'm determined to do better than that): This novel is being written, right now, in bits and pieces and it is presenting, as such, problems of cohesion. I keep trying to tell too much about the story rather than just tell the story in the pieces I'm turning out because they've yet to flow together. But in the past few weeks, I've had a series of breakthroughs on things like plot, character development, themes, etc, so I'm confident this cohesiveness problem will be easily rectified.
Speaking of breaking through a creative impediment, my most recent epiphany about the book came about this afternoon while I was showering. Not something many of my readers want to picture, I'm sure, but I am still going to talk about it, so ye be warned. No, I will not go into graphic detail about what I was wearing in the shower (which was, for the record, nothing, not even cut-offs), but I will go into the epiphany, and why I think it happened.
So I've been thinking a lot about the novel (obviously) and yesterday, one of my good friends whom I have known since I was twelve (almost thirteen, back in 7th grade) got married to a guy I wholeheartedly approve of. So that's good. We were close through high school and she was there for me when I needed her in my listless post-high school graduation pre-college funk with an invite to see the stage show Blast, and she came to visit me in Minnesota on her fall break (and inadvertently made my current wife jealous, because Kathy thought this friend was my girlfriend and Kathy, it turns out, wanted that job to be hers). So there was a lot of good feelings about this wedding, plus I got to see my best friend from high school Zach (the bass player in my old band The Hitchhikers, which I may or may not have mentioned on the blog before) plus some other good friends from back in the day. So with these good thoughts and old memories running through my head all day yesterday, and all night, I got up this morning (late) and got to working on the garden.
There is something to be said about working in a garden; feeling the dirt in your hands, holding the plants in your palms and feeling their life. It's...calming. And that's a big deal for me to say, because (as my parents are quick to point out) I would never, ever have voluntarily done any kind of gardening or yardwork, whatsoever, when I lived with them. And Kathy would agree...it takes a lot to get me out to do that kind of work and for some reason, I always forget how rewarding it can be. But working in the garden (not mowing the lawn, which is just sweaty or raking leaves, which is just painful) can really help me clear my mind a little.
After that, I took a shower, which is relaxing in a different way. Gardening relaxes my mind; a shower relaxes my body. So I was in there, relaxed mind and relaxed body, singing some Moody Blues softly to myself, when all of a sudden, a solution to one of the problems of my novel presented itself. The water was running down my back and over my shoulders and it just came t me.
I'll just go ahead and tell you a little bit about what I mean. There's a problem of the narrator's father believes that Rock music reached a pinnacle in 1976, and that since then it has been on a rapid downward spiral. The reason presented for this in the original short story on which the novel is founded is that Led Zeppelin's album Presence contained the greatest achievement of rock music, "Achilles Last Stand." But I needed there to be more to it than that, so I found a way for the narrator to discover his father's true reasons. I will say no more now. But I'm excited to get working on it.
Anyway...if your head is ever in a funk, do something with a little bit of a Zen feel to it. Rock garden. Real garden? Try it. Then take a shower. It seems to help me.
Speaking of breaking through a creative impediment, my most recent epiphany about the book came about this afternoon while I was showering. Not something many of my readers want to picture, I'm sure, but I am still going to talk about it, so ye be warned. No, I will not go into graphic detail about what I was wearing in the shower (which was, for the record, nothing, not even cut-offs), but I will go into the epiphany, and why I think it happened.
So I've been thinking a lot about the novel (obviously) and yesterday, one of my good friends whom I have known since I was twelve (almost thirteen, back in 7th grade) got married to a guy I wholeheartedly approve of. So that's good. We were close through high school and she was there for me when I needed her in my listless post-high school graduation pre-college funk with an invite to see the stage show Blast, and she came to visit me in Minnesota on her fall break (and inadvertently made my current wife jealous, because Kathy thought this friend was my girlfriend and Kathy, it turns out, wanted that job to be hers). So there was a lot of good feelings about this wedding, plus I got to see my best friend from high school Zach (the bass player in my old band The Hitchhikers, which I may or may not have mentioned on the blog before) plus some other good friends from back in the day. So with these good thoughts and old memories running through my head all day yesterday, and all night, I got up this morning (late) and got to working on the garden.
There is something to be said about working in a garden; feeling the dirt in your hands, holding the plants in your palms and feeling their life. It's...calming. And that's a big deal for me to say, because (as my parents are quick to point out) I would never, ever have voluntarily done any kind of gardening or yardwork, whatsoever, when I lived with them. And Kathy would agree...it takes a lot to get me out to do that kind of work and for some reason, I always forget how rewarding it can be. But working in the garden (not mowing the lawn, which is just sweaty or raking leaves, which is just painful) can really help me clear my mind a little.
After that, I took a shower, which is relaxing in a different way. Gardening relaxes my mind; a shower relaxes my body. So I was in there, relaxed mind and relaxed body, singing some Moody Blues softly to myself, when all of a sudden, a solution to one of the problems of my novel presented itself. The water was running down my back and over my shoulders and it just came t me.
I'll just go ahead and tell you a little bit about what I mean. There's a problem of the narrator's father believes that Rock music reached a pinnacle in 1976, and that since then it has been on a rapid downward spiral. The reason presented for this in the original short story on which the novel is founded is that Led Zeppelin's album Presence contained the greatest achievement of rock music, "Achilles Last Stand." But I needed there to be more to it than that, so I found a way for the narrator to discover his father's true reasons. I will say no more now. But I'm excited to get working on it.
Anyway...if your head is ever in a funk, do something with a little bit of a Zen feel to it. Rock garden. Real garden? Try it. Then take a shower. It seems to help me.
Thursday, July 08, 2010
Comment Moderation
I had a few little problems with comments on my blog after I set up moderation. The e-mails were going into my spam folder for some reason. Some of you may have posted a comment only to find days later that it still hadn't actually posted. In fact, I've gotten quite a lot of comments since I turned on the moderation, I just didn't know I had them until my blogger dashboard told me I had eleven comments waited to be approved. Oops. Sorry everybody. Anyway, if you comment and it doesn't show up right away, that's normal. If you comment and it doesn't show up for a few days, then either I've dropped the ball or your comment was spam. Try to avoid that last one.
Tuesday, July 06, 2010
The "Joy" of Classical Music
There are certain forms of art that have no place. I wouldn't even call them art, because they're not artful. They're not even commercially artful, though some (those who make money off such "art") would argue. I'm talking about "art" with a blatant, in your face message. Art like the Left Behind novels and movies. Art like Christian Rock music.
The reason I bring all this up is because I just listened to Dvorák's Symphony for the New World, Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue and I am currently listening to Beethoven's 9th Symphony, after which the only commercial Classical radio station in the entire United States of America will cease broadcasting to become a Lutheran Church-funded Christian Rock station. This is kind of a sad thing to happen. And by kind of, I mean, very.
Classical music has always been a large part of my life. Music in general has, but I have many memories of listening to this radio station (Classic 99.1 KFUO) from my youth. Many people growing up know classical music from Loony Toons. I knew it from the radio and the symphony and the records and tapes and CDs in my parents' music library. I knew it from concerts my father would play in. I knew it as a listener and then I knew it as a performer. Tchaikovsky, Shostakovich, Mozart, Beethoven, Rimsky-Korsakov, Dvorák, Mussorgsky, Hindemith, Salieri...so much more. And I was always able to discover new music by flipping over to the classical station.
The fact that tomorrow morning I'll have one less viable radio station to listen to makes me sad. I refuse to listen to Christian Rock, because there is no artistry. The intent is so heavy-handed, there's no room for interpretation. Each and every song is a love song to Jesus, God, Faith...what pain there is seems to be referenced in passing, removed by Jesus. Where's the humanity in that art? For what is the purpose of art if not to hold a mirror up to reality? And I know, in reality, many people find joy in Faith. Fine. Many people find joy in a well written piece of music. And many musicians and composers believe their talent to be a gift from God. And with that, I have no qualms. My sadness comes from the idea that the owners of the new Joy FM feel the need to remind us of God. To quote Douglas Adams, "Isn't it enough to see that a garden is beautiful without having to believe that there are fairies at the bottom of it too?" Except, in this case, do we have to hang sings on the plants that there are fairies at work? It cheapens the beauty of the flowers.
As I understand it, most Christian Rock bands are put together the same way that other tasteless mass market pop is put together; some people who want to make money put together a marketable package of pseudo musicians with only enough talent to do exactly as they are told. Somebody else writes their music for them, and all they do is record it and perform it. So the artistry is not even there at the beginning. Just get a good looking group of people with decent singing voices and the ability to cover the instrumentation you need, and (in the case of Christian Rock) make sure they're clean cut and regular churchgoers.
Never mind the fact that a few short decades ago, the predecessors of the people now putting together these rock groups decried rock and roll as "the devil's music." I really want to know what late 70's tech geek and person of faith engineered his record player to play Hotel California backwards to hear "Worship Satan" over and over. Let's just skip that part and get to Joy FM.
Why did this happen in St. Louis? This is tantamount to the symphony hall closing and becoming a church. Or the art museum becoming a tabernacle. I am sad, I am indignant, and I am sad. In that order.
Sorry this wasn't more coherent. I just don't know what else to say without inflaming any anti-religion v religion debates. For the record, I am an atheist who loves classical music, so of course I oppose this. But many people of faith oppose this as well, mostly because we already have radio and television outlets in St. Louis for religious expression. Now we have no easily accessible outlet for classical music. Sure, there's internet radio and satellite radio and HD radio and CD and mp3, but not everybody can gain access to these things. It's just sad.
The reason I bring all this up is because I just listened to Dvorák's Symphony for the New World, Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue and I am currently listening to Beethoven's 9th Symphony, after which the only commercial Classical radio station in the entire United States of America will cease broadcasting to become a Lutheran Church-funded Christian Rock station. This is kind of a sad thing to happen. And by kind of, I mean, very.
Classical music has always been a large part of my life. Music in general has, but I have many memories of listening to this radio station (Classic 99.1 KFUO) from my youth. Many people growing up know classical music from Loony Toons. I knew it from the radio and the symphony and the records and tapes and CDs in my parents' music library. I knew it from concerts my father would play in. I knew it as a listener and then I knew it as a performer. Tchaikovsky, Shostakovich, Mozart, Beethoven, Rimsky-Korsakov, Dvorák, Mussorgsky, Hindemith, Salieri...so much more. And I was always able to discover new music by flipping over to the classical station.
The fact that tomorrow morning I'll have one less viable radio station to listen to makes me sad. I refuse to listen to Christian Rock, because there is no artistry. The intent is so heavy-handed, there's no room for interpretation. Each and every song is a love song to Jesus, God, Faith...what pain there is seems to be referenced in passing, removed by Jesus. Where's the humanity in that art? For what is the purpose of art if not to hold a mirror up to reality? And I know, in reality, many people find joy in Faith. Fine. Many people find joy in a well written piece of music. And many musicians and composers believe their talent to be a gift from God. And with that, I have no qualms. My sadness comes from the idea that the owners of the new Joy FM feel the need to remind us of God. To quote Douglas Adams, "Isn't it enough to see that a garden is beautiful without having to believe that there are fairies at the bottom of it too?" Except, in this case, do we have to hang sings on the plants that there are fairies at work? It cheapens the beauty of the flowers.
As I understand it, most Christian Rock bands are put together the same way that other tasteless mass market pop is put together; some people who want to make money put together a marketable package of pseudo musicians with only enough talent to do exactly as they are told. Somebody else writes their music for them, and all they do is record it and perform it. So the artistry is not even there at the beginning. Just get a good looking group of people with decent singing voices and the ability to cover the instrumentation you need, and (in the case of Christian Rock) make sure they're clean cut and regular churchgoers.
Never mind the fact that a few short decades ago, the predecessors of the people now putting together these rock groups decried rock and roll as "the devil's music." I really want to know what late 70's tech geek and person of faith engineered his record player to play Hotel California backwards to hear "Worship Satan" over and over. Let's just skip that part and get to Joy FM.
Why did this happen in St. Louis? This is tantamount to the symphony hall closing and becoming a church. Or the art museum becoming a tabernacle. I am sad, I am indignant, and I am sad. In that order.
Sorry this wasn't more coherent. I just don't know what else to say without inflaming any anti-religion v religion debates. For the record, I am an atheist who loves classical music, so of course I oppose this. But many people of faith oppose this as well, mostly because we already have radio and television outlets in St. Louis for religious expression. Now we have no easily accessible outlet for classical music. Sure, there's internet radio and satellite radio and HD radio and CD and mp3, but not everybody can gain access to these things. It's just sad.
Friday, July 02, 2010
Days of Future Passed
That is the title of my current favorite album.
Let us be clear on one thing; my all time, Desert Island, Number One With a Bullet, House is Burning Down Only Have Time To Grab One Album is still Sunny Day Real Estate's Diary. But just like how in April my favorite album was Broken Bells, in May it was The Decemberist's Picaresque, and in June it was The Best of Buddy Rich (the LP I got for Record Store Day...that was a hard month because, as stated before, it's not available on CD or mp3 in album form though I could piece-meal it together I guess), this month it's turning out to be the epic concept album from 1967, Days of Future Passed by Moody Blues.
I know what you're thinking. Well, no, no I don't. But I can guess what some of you are thinking. And by some, I mean, I'm going to mentally divide all of my readers into three groups, each based on what I am guessing that you are thinking as you read this.
Group A: "Right on, man! Groovy!"
Group B: "But...that's kind of schlocky and gimmicky and pretentious...I mean, it ends with a poem about a 'Cold Hearted Orb that Rules the Night' and then a gigantic gong blast. What the hell?"
Group C: "Dude, I have no idea who those dinosaurs are. Wait...you were alive in 1967? I knew you were old, but sheesh.
To those groups I say (respectively), "Totally," "Yeah but it's still so good," and "Duh, what do you think I did after the Boer Wars ended? That's when I got into music. That Tchaikovsky sure was a devilish whipper-snapper in his younger days. Oh, wait, jerk, I'm not even thirty years old yet, I just happen to have been raised on awesome music, much like my child will be."
The point is...um...wait. Let me try and catch my train of thought. Now, let's see...favorite album...June...whipper-snapper...oh yeah!
The point is that whenever I listen to this album, strong images are conjured up in my mind. I remember my mother had this on tape and would listen to it and kind of lazily dance around the house as she went about her day. I have very vivid memories of her standing in front of the stereo (which was under the stairs at the time, which won't make sense without a detailed architectural history of my parents' house which I am not willing to go into at this point, though know that the stairs were white with brown carpeting for a time before they were stripped of carpeting and painted, inexplicably except so far as it was the late 1980's, deep magenta) and singing "Tuuuuuuues-day A-aaaaaaaaaaafternoooooooooon!" along with the tape. Eventually, we moved the stereo, got a CD player and even tore out the magenta stairs and put in normal stairs to a better floor-planned upstairs (the house is not on the market, yet here I am selling it to you). And with the CD player, my mother upgraded from tape to CD, and still continued to sing along.
So I know this album intimately, it's part of the geography of my musical mind. I like to think that if, for some reason you wanted to do this, you could crack my head open and find the part of my brain that remembers music, lower a stylus into the correct groove and you'd hear this entire album perfectly.
The only problem is, I haven't heard the entire album perfectly as it was originally released. You see, in 1978 the album was remixed, and that new mix has become the prevalent recording now sold and heard everywhere. The original was only ever released on vinyl and 8-Track tape. Since then, of course, we've had tape, CD, SACD, digital music...and it's all been the 1978 remixing. But people who are familiar with both mostly agree that the original mix is superior. Now, why don't they just record it from the original masters? They had deteriorated, which is why it was remixed in the first place. The only option now, and it's not one likely to see any official action, would be to find an original pressing on vinyl in excellent condition and transfer it that way. It's been done; many recordings from the early part of the 20th century were done direct to wax record, transferred to lacquer and (eventually) to vinyl, and that's the only form in which they existed until somebody came along to release a compilation (and I just heard a story on NPR about somebody doing this, but I can't for the life of me remember who, nor can I find a link to it on their music site). So, it could be done.
The only problem with that, of course, is that since the remixed recording has been around and dominant for 32 years, it's not easy to find a good copy of the original record. I think I've talked about it before, maybe not, how vinyl is a self-destructive medium; every time you listen to a record, you destroy it a little (and also the needle), and also every dust particle could wreak havoc on the quality, not to mention that vinyl is big and unwieldy and fragile (not a good combination). So the likelihood of a 33-43 year old record existing in excellent condition is not good. Add to that the relative desirability of this item; anyone who has it probably wants to keep it, any one who wants it and finds a copy for sale will likely snatch it up in a heartbeat. So I have yet to hear the original mix. Which is sad, because I want to incorporate the album into my novel.
That's what got me into the album recently; I was looking for some classic rock to incorporate into a scene and was scrolling through my iTunes (it's still much easier to keep music organized digitally than it ever will be physically, plus I have almost ten years' worth of downloads and CD rips that I am never going to fully replace with vinyl) and chanced on the cover art, which gave me a chill. Oh yeah, that's the other thing about this album; when we got it on CD, my mom would put it on I would sit in front of the stereo and stare at the cover art. Because this was cover art designed for a record, it's intricately detailed and kind of psychedelic. So I listened to it, all the way through. It's quite the album. It reminded me that alums like The Decemerist's The Hazards of Love and Janelle Monae's The ArchAndroid (a fantastic and amazing album, one of the best of the year) have a rich lineage that reaches back to classical music. In fact, Days of Future Passed was originally commissioned to be a rock rendition of Dvorak's New World Symphony. But the band decided to instead continue their work on what was to be a stage show they had been kicking around for a while. They didn't abandon the idea of classical music, though; this album is rich in orchestral layers; strings, horns, winds, it's all there.
So, I got into it, and started doing some research, and found this discrepancy in the mix. It fits in perfectly with part of my storyline.
But now I feel like I need to hear the original release. But I won't let that stop me! Onward and Upward! On...onward and upward.
:::cries softly in the shower:::
discussed in this post:
Let us be clear on one thing; my all time, Desert Island, Number One With a Bullet, House is Burning Down Only Have Time To Grab One Album is still Sunny Day Real Estate's Diary. But just like how in April my favorite album was Broken Bells, in May it was The Decemberist's Picaresque, and in June it was The Best of Buddy Rich (the LP I got for Record Store Day...that was a hard month because, as stated before, it's not available on CD or mp3 in album form though I could piece-meal it together I guess), this month it's turning out to be the epic concept album from 1967, Days of Future Passed by Moody Blues.
I know what you're thinking. Well, no, no I don't. But I can guess what some of you are thinking. And by some, I mean, I'm going to mentally divide all of my readers into three groups, each based on what I am guessing that you are thinking as you read this.
Group A: "Right on, man! Groovy!"
Group B: "But...that's kind of schlocky and gimmicky and pretentious...I mean, it ends with a poem about a 'Cold Hearted Orb that Rules the Night' and then a gigantic gong blast. What the hell?"
Group C: "Dude, I have no idea who those dinosaurs are. Wait...you were alive in 1967? I knew you were old, but sheesh.
To those groups I say (respectively), "Totally," "Yeah but it's still so good," and "Duh, what do you think I did after the Boer Wars ended? That's when I got into music. That Tchaikovsky sure was a devilish whipper-snapper in his younger days. Oh, wait, jerk, I'm not even thirty years old yet, I just happen to have been raised on awesome music, much like my child will be."
The point is...um...wait. Let me try and catch my train of thought. Now, let's see...favorite album...June...whipper-snapper...oh yeah!
The point is that whenever I listen to this album, strong images are conjured up in my mind. I remember my mother had this on tape and would listen to it and kind of lazily dance around the house as she went about her day. I have very vivid memories of her standing in front of the stereo (which was under the stairs at the time, which won't make sense without a detailed architectural history of my parents' house which I am not willing to go into at this point, though know that the stairs were white with brown carpeting for a time before they were stripped of carpeting and painted, inexplicably except so far as it was the late 1980's, deep magenta) and singing "Tuuuuuuues-day A-aaaaaaaaaaafternoooooooooon!" along with the tape. Eventually, we moved the stereo, got a CD player and even tore out the magenta stairs and put in normal stairs to a better floor-planned upstairs (the house is not on the market, yet here I am selling it to you). And with the CD player, my mother upgraded from tape to CD, and still continued to sing along.
So I know this album intimately, it's part of the geography of my musical mind. I like to think that if, for some reason you wanted to do this, you could crack my head open and find the part of my brain that remembers music, lower a stylus into the correct groove and you'd hear this entire album perfectly.
The only problem is, I haven't heard the entire album perfectly as it was originally released. You see, in 1978 the album was remixed, and that new mix has become the prevalent recording now sold and heard everywhere. The original was only ever released on vinyl and 8-Track tape. Since then, of course, we've had tape, CD, SACD, digital music...and it's all been the 1978 remixing. But people who are familiar with both mostly agree that the original mix is superior. Now, why don't they just record it from the original masters? They had deteriorated, which is why it was remixed in the first place. The only option now, and it's not one likely to see any official action, would be to find an original pressing on vinyl in excellent condition and transfer it that way. It's been done; many recordings from the early part of the 20th century were done direct to wax record, transferred to lacquer and (eventually) to vinyl, and that's the only form in which they existed until somebody came along to release a compilation (and I just heard a story on NPR about somebody doing this, but I can't for the life of me remember who, nor can I find a link to it on their music site). So, it could be done.
The only problem with that, of course, is that since the remixed recording has been around and dominant for 32 years, it's not easy to find a good copy of the original record. I think I've talked about it before, maybe not, how vinyl is a self-destructive medium; every time you listen to a record, you destroy it a little (and also the needle), and also every dust particle could wreak havoc on the quality, not to mention that vinyl is big and unwieldy and fragile (not a good combination). So the likelihood of a 33-43 year old record existing in excellent condition is not good. Add to that the relative desirability of this item; anyone who has it probably wants to keep it, any one who wants it and finds a copy for sale will likely snatch it up in a heartbeat. So I have yet to hear the original mix. Which is sad, because I want to incorporate the album into my novel.
That's what got me into the album recently; I was looking for some classic rock to incorporate into a scene and was scrolling through my iTunes (it's still much easier to keep music organized digitally than it ever will be physically, plus I have almost ten years' worth of downloads and CD rips that I am never going to fully replace with vinyl) and chanced on the cover art, which gave me a chill. Oh yeah, that's the other thing about this album; when we got it on CD, my mom would put it on I would sit in front of the stereo and stare at the cover art. Because this was cover art designed for a record, it's intricately detailed and kind of psychedelic. So I listened to it, all the way through. It's quite the album. It reminded me that alums like The Decemerist's The Hazards of Love and Janelle Monae's The ArchAndroid (a fantastic and amazing album, one of the best of the year) have a rich lineage that reaches back to classical music. In fact, Days of Future Passed was originally commissioned to be a rock rendition of Dvorak's New World Symphony. But the band decided to instead continue their work on what was to be a stage show they had been kicking around for a while. They didn't abandon the idea of classical music, though; this album is rich in orchestral layers; strings, horns, winds, it's all there.
So, I got into it, and started doing some research, and found this discrepancy in the mix. It fits in perfectly with part of my storyline.
But now I feel like I need to hear the original release. But I won't let that stop me! Onward and Upward! On...onward and upward.
:::cries softly in the shower:::
discussed in this post:
Thursday, July 01, 2010
Link Shuffle
Every so often, I reorganize my links. I don't bring this up as an idle topic; no, in fact, I just messed with it. Take a look.
First off, I took down some links. I took down some links to sites I used to frequent quite a bit but have stopped checking. I also removed some blogs that have not seen an update in a really long time. If I took your link off, and you're upset, leave a passive-aggressive comment on this post and I'll reinstate the link.
But, I also added two new links! First up, Gerald (remember Gerald?), who's now had three or four, um, hundred blogs that he's taken off the internets, is back on the internets with his Art Blog. Pretty sweet stuff, so check it out here.
Also new is Provocative & Talkative, which chronicles the life and times of a new(ish) friend of mine (by that I mean that we have known each other for a little over two years now, but have just recently started hanging out and, it turns out, we're good friends). She very cleverly invents nicknames for all the people she blogs about, so as not to open herself up to Google stalking. Me? I apparently don't mind that much. You can find her here.
Also new, and I hate to do this, but I've enabled comment moderation and also word verification. The reason I hate to do this is because I believe in the openness of the internets. But the reason I have to do this is because (I'm sure regular commenters have noticed) there has been an increase in the number of spam comments on my blog, complete with Asian characters and embedded links to questionable sites. Not what I want my blog to be about. Rest assured, all new and returning readers, that I would say that if you are a real person and you make a comment that is truly, well, real, I will allow it. Any comments with links in them, I will have to check the link before I approve it but, again, chances are good that you will be approved. If you're a bot of some kind, you lose! You get NOTHING!
That's it for now. I promise to have some real posts coming up sometime soon.
First off, I took down some links. I took down some links to sites I used to frequent quite a bit but have stopped checking. I also removed some blogs that have not seen an update in a really long time. If I took your link off, and you're upset, leave a passive-aggressive comment on this post and I'll reinstate the link.
But, I also added two new links! First up, Gerald (remember Gerald?), who's now had three or four, um, hundred blogs that he's taken off the internets, is back on the internets with his Art Blog. Pretty sweet stuff, so check it out here.
Also new is Provocative & Talkative, which chronicles the life and times of a new(ish) friend of mine (by that I mean that we have known each other for a little over two years now, but have just recently started hanging out and, it turns out, we're good friends). She very cleverly invents nicknames for all the people she blogs about, so as not to open herself up to Google stalking. Me? I apparently don't mind that much. You can find her here.
Also new, and I hate to do this, but I've enabled comment moderation and also word verification. The reason I hate to do this is because I believe in the openness of the internets. But the reason I have to do this is because (I'm sure regular commenters have noticed) there has been an increase in the number of spam comments on my blog, complete with Asian characters and embedded links to questionable sites. Not what I want my blog to be about. Rest assured, all new and returning readers, that I would say that if you are a real person and you make a comment that is truly, well, real, I will allow it. Any comments with links in them, I will have to check the link before I approve it but, again, chances are good that you will be approved. If you're a bot of some kind, you lose! You get NOTHING!
That's it for now. I promise to have some real posts coming up sometime soon.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
A (very) Short Excerpt
from a current work in progress
===
Ryan turned his eyes to me, narrowing them. "But how did you know?" he asked me in the tone he always reserved for questions to which the answers never satisfied.
"How does anybody really know?" I stalled. He didn't buy it. "She touched my arm."
Ryan's reaction was a jumble of surprise, skepticism, and confusion. I rubbed the spot on my arm, to assure one of us that the arm really was there to be touched. "Excuse me, I'm gonna need some clarification," he asked.
"We were having coffee one night, years ago, and talking about paradise, agreeing that it was completely unattainable. And then she shattered the consensus by touching my arm and taking me there." I continued rubbing the spot on my left arm where her coffee-warmed hand had wrapped around my winter-kissed flesh, just below the sleeve of my t-shirt.
"Where?"
For a second, I could smell the coffee shop, the chai tea cakes I had also fallen in love with that night, my stale frozen and dried sweat from the show, her perfume which I found out later to be called "Heaven." I could feel her hand on me, her lips against mine. Ryan asked again and I was brought back to the noise of the DC dive bar. I looked hard at the sagging ceiling tiles and the yellowing beer pitcher half empty between us.
"Where?"
"Paradise," I said. "One perfect moment. She touched my arm, and took me to paradise."
Ryan's right hand moved toward my left arm, his fingers twitching in response to some impulse in his muscle memory or cerebral cortex. I wanted him to feel the spot where she had touched me, to see if he could still feel her energy. Maybe he could find himself on the edge of paradise, looking in at me and Katie Mason, sitting at a Formica table, coffee cups half filled between us, her hand on my arm. Instead, he grabbed the pitcher of Stag and emptied it into our glasses. He picked his up and held it out towards me. "To one perfect moment," he said.
"To one perfect moment." I moved my glass to meet his and we drank. I wanted the juke box to be playing "Maps" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, her favorite song. I wanted her to walk through the door, look around, and find me. Instead, a group of Yankees fans in the corner belted along with "You Give Love a Bad Name." Bon Jovi never fails to ruin my best laid fantasies. "And one more, to paradise," I added.
"Wherever it may be," Ryan said, our glasses touching again. We both drained our beers and decided to go back to the hotel.
"Think Johnny and Adam are awake?" I asked.
"Johnny's awake," Ryan said, pointing past the raucous group in the corner. Johnny was sitting at a table behind them, across from a girl with dark blonde hair highlighted in pink. "Come on, let's go." And Ryan started towards the door, throwing a twenty on the table.
I lingered, watching Johnny and the girl through the laughing crowd. He was cool, uninterested, his eyes darting around the room. His glance fell on me for a moment, continued it's journey and then jolted back to me. I smiled at him, waved. He nodded nonchalantly. I wasn't sure if he didn't want the girl to know I was there, or if he didn't want her to know he wasn't really paying attention. Just as I was about to turn around and leave, I saw her reach out to him, put her left hand on his right arm, between his wrist and elbow. She laughed and pressed her hand to him, and he smiled cooly at her and looked fleetingly in her direction.
===
This will make more sense in context, I am sure, but I felt this little bit was exceptional, given the quality of my writing lately. Let's hope this becomes more the norm.
Oh, and if you think it sucks and is terrible, don't tell me. This is the best I've been able to do on the novel for a few weeks now. Be kind to the fragile writer.
===
Ryan turned his eyes to me, narrowing them. "But how did you know?" he asked me in the tone he always reserved for questions to which the answers never satisfied.
"How does anybody really know?" I stalled. He didn't buy it. "She touched my arm."
Ryan's reaction was a jumble of surprise, skepticism, and confusion. I rubbed the spot on my arm, to assure one of us that the arm really was there to be touched. "Excuse me, I'm gonna need some clarification," he asked.
"We were having coffee one night, years ago, and talking about paradise, agreeing that it was completely unattainable. And then she shattered the consensus by touching my arm and taking me there." I continued rubbing the spot on my left arm where her coffee-warmed hand had wrapped around my winter-kissed flesh, just below the sleeve of my t-shirt.
"Where?"
For a second, I could smell the coffee shop, the chai tea cakes I had also fallen in love with that night, my stale frozen and dried sweat from the show, her perfume which I found out later to be called "Heaven." I could feel her hand on me, her lips against mine. Ryan asked again and I was brought back to the noise of the DC dive bar. I looked hard at the sagging ceiling tiles and the yellowing beer pitcher half empty between us.
"Where?"
"Paradise," I said. "One perfect moment. She touched my arm, and took me to paradise."
Ryan's right hand moved toward my left arm, his fingers twitching in response to some impulse in his muscle memory or cerebral cortex. I wanted him to feel the spot where she had touched me, to see if he could still feel her energy. Maybe he could find himself on the edge of paradise, looking in at me and Katie Mason, sitting at a Formica table, coffee cups half filled between us, her hand on my arm. Instead, he grabbed the pitcher of Stag and emptied it into our glasses. He picked his up and held it out towards me. "To one perfect moment," he said.
"To one perfect moment." I moved my glass to meet his and we drank. I wanted the juke box to be playing "Maps" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, her favorite song. I wanted her to walk through the door, look around, and find me. Instead, a group of Yankees fans in the corner belted along with "You Give Love a Bad Name." Bon Jovi never fails to ruin my best laid fantasies. "And one more, to paradise," I added.
"Wherever it may be," Ryan said, our glasses touching again. We both drained our beers and decided to go back to the hotel.
"Think Johnny and Adam are awake?" I asked.
"Johnny's awake," Ryan said, pointing past the raucous group in the corner. Johnny was sitting at a table behind them, across from a girl with dark blonde hair highlighted in pink. "Come on, let's go." And Ryan started towards the door, throwing a twenty on the table.
I lingered, watching Johnny and the girl through the laughing crowd. He was cool, uninterested, his eyes darting around the room. His glance fell on me for a moment, continued it's journey and then jolted back to me. I smiled at him, waved. He nodded nonchalantly. I wasn't sure if he didn't want the girl to know I was there, or if he didn't want her to know he wasn't really paying attention. Just as I was about to turn around and leave, I saw her reach out to him, put her left hand on his right arm, between his wrist and elbow. She laughed and pressed her hand to him, and he smiled cooly at her and looked fleetingly in her direction.
===
This will make more sense in context, I am sure, but I felt this little bit was exceptional, given the quality of my writing lately. Let's hope this becomes more the norm.
Oh, and if you think it sucks and is terrible, don't tell me. This is the best I've been able to do on the novel for a few weeks now. Be kind to the fragile writer.
Monday, June 21, 2010
New Routines...No, Really, I'm trying not to be kidding this time!
New routine: arrive home from work approx. 5:20-6:00 PM. Feed/snuggle cat. Feed/snuggle wife (and, eventually, kid). Approx. 7:00 PM retire to basement for writing or exercising, each requiring different soundtrack (Rock Records for exercising, classical or silence for writing unless project requires other stimulus e.g. writing about Rock requiring, well, Rock). Approx 9:00-10:00 PM return upstairs. Feed/snuggle kitty. Snuggle wife (and eventually kid).
Post blog approx. three times (3X) weekly.
Snack sparingly on salty or sweet treats. Eat more fruits/veggies (bag of carrots instead of six handfuls of Mike & Ikes, those devil and/or heaven-sent candy goodies).
Read before bed (either to myself or out loud to wife and eventually kid). After midnight (weeknights) turn off light and try to sleep.
No, really.
Really.
Also, should join a writers' group. Need to have workshop to motivate me. Beer a plus.
Post blog approx. three times (3X) weekly.
Snack sparingly on salty or sweet treats. Eat more fruits/veggies (bag of carrots instead of six handfuls of Mike & Ikes, those devil and/or heaven-sent candy goodies).
Read before bed (either to myself or out loud to wife and eventually kid). After midnight (weeknights) turn off light and try to sleep.
No, really.
Really.
Also, should join a writers' group. Need to have workshop to motivate me. Beer a plus.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Remembrance
Dear Readers,
There has been a lot going on right now, with getting ready for the baby's arrival, so apologies to you. Right now Kathy and I are in the midst of a home-improvement blitz so that we can actually have a safe home in which to raise a small child. You know, baby-proofing, moving hazards out of the way of a child on the move, that sort of thing. One of the dangers that resided in our house was our cat Acrodyl. The only people he liked were myself and Kathy, and that was only about 90% of the time (less so with Kathy, though when he liked her he loved her. He tolerated my father, which was good for when we would go out of town. But we did not feel comfortable with the idea of having a very scared, angry cat around a baby.
See, Acrodyl was a rescue cat. He had been a litter of one, separated from his mother too soon and then abused. But at the shelter, he was taken care of very well and when we adopted him in 2004, he was very sweet. But the damage had been done in his youth, and loud noises and sudden movements always scared him. He was content sitting and laying quietly, playing with a string or a ball or a laser pointer, but he was not a cat who was into being played with physically. He took it as a threat. And a couple years ago, unaware of this, one of our friends played a little rough with him and he could never be around strangers again without hissing, swatting, screaming, lunging and biting. He had very powerful teeth, too, made sharp by the fact that he never chewed his food (he only licked it until it was soft and then swallowed it). He was not without other problems; he had a respiratory infection when we first adopted him and always had a little bit of a rasp in his breath. He was fickle about cleanliness in his litter box, to the point where he would develop bladder infections rather than use it. He got his tail caught in the bathroom door once and ran away from it, leaving a section behind (that required surgery, three days of sedation, two weeks of a head cone and three weeks of antibiotics). But he remained sweet, especially in the evenings, toward us, and we loved him. Amethyst, his little long-haired sister we adopted in December 2008, loved playing with him, chasing him around, and trying to do the things he did and he sort of tolerated her. I have pictures of them cuddling to prove it.
In December, when we found out we were expecting our first child, we were faced with a decision about what to do with the cat. We contemplated keeping him, because he was a part of the family and had been since our second week in our first home. He would greet me each evening by kneading his paws over my the laced part of my shoes (always the chagrin when he saw I was wearing sandals). He would snuggle up against Kathy's neck and purr louder than any cat I've ever heard, kneading her neck and shoulder every night. We didn't want to say goodbye to him.
But we knew it had to be done, and his mood swings got worse. When he was in a bad mood, it was sometimes terrifying to see. It was like there were two cats, one sweet and gentle and the other terrified and desperate. Only I could calm him down when he was in a mood like that. What would happen if he got in a mood like that when Kathy and the baby were home alone?
No shelters would take him because he was no longer adoptable. He was too scared of others to know that nobody was trying to hurt him. Some days, just trying to pet him made him feel threatened. So we made the hard decision and on April 28, 2010, Kathy, Amethyst and I said goodbye to him.
The saddest part of this isn't how much we cried that day, or how Amethyst wandered the house looking for him for a little bit, or how she's been afraid of strangers since that day (my father came over to pick me and Acrodyl up, and I came home alone, perhaps she got the wrong impression?), or the lack of shoe rubs. No, the saddest part is how easily we've adapted, how his memory pops up in this little instances that make it more painful than if we were constantly thinking about him. The other day, I was looking for a pencil in my desk drawer and found the pet microchip tag Acrodyl came with and subsequently chewed off his collar. The first time I cleaned the litter box afterward, I cried over scooping up the last of his poop. I cried over poop...who does that? We were working on our closet system the other night, listening to music on my computer, and my screensaver came on. It's the picture slideshow, and there were pictures of him every third or fourth one. I miss him. Kathy misses him. Amethyst misses him.
Worse is when we're doing something that Acrodyl used to involve himself in, like folding sheets. He used to get angry at us for doing that, because he just wanted to lay on them, and of course he reacted as if we were threatening him. The other night, we were folding sheets, and Amethyst was playfully trying to stop us. No fear, just playfulness, and we very easily distracted her. We both thought, "How easy is this without him?" One of us said something and the other concurred. What wasn't said, but I'm sure we both thought, was, "I don't care that it's easy. I miss him."
So, to get it out and provide a bit more closure, I'm going to list some of the things about him that were cute, hilarious, unique, and not sad.
The first day we had him, which was my first time meeting him, my sister and her husband came over to play board games, and Acrodyl fell asleep in my lap on the floor, purring.
He was so little at first, he couldn't get up on the bed. We had to help him up, but the joke was on us; he'd get up there, stand on a chest (whichever was most convenient), fart, and then run away.
We used to find him, on hot days, curled up in the bathroom sink. This got harder when we moved into the house, because he got bigger and the sink was more square, but he kept at it.
We bought him a crinkle bird, which is a kind of a cat toy, on his first day with us, which he loved dearly for three hours and then which he promptly lost. We never saw it again.
He used to put his paws in the food bowl when he ate. He tried this once with his water bowl, and was displeased with the result.
After a long day of Kathy and I running errands and being in and out of the house, Acrodyl would lay down on the rug in front of the door as if to say, "No more leaving!"
Every Christmas, Acrodyl would fall asleep on a pile of spent wrapping paper.
Always curious, Acrodyl jumped on top of the box our television came in, only to have the flaps give out underneath him. He spent three hours in the box, sleeping until Kathy called his name.
One night, at the apartment, when I got home late from work, he was so happy to see me he ran outside into the foyer when the door was open. I didn't notice until half an hour later, when he hadn't come to bed. I found him in the foyer, asleep in the corner, safe and sound and only a little annoyed.
The first time we brought home KFC Popcorn Chicken, Acrodyl went crazy for it. He kept sneaking up on us, leaping over our laps to grab pieces from our hands. It was the only people-food he liked.
We had the front door of the house open last summer, and Amethyst scampered out into the front yard. Acrodyl bolted out after her and chased her back inside. We had a hawk circling our neighborhood which Acrodyl had seen previously.
When he was sleeping, you could run your hand down his back and he would wake up with a noise that was half a purr, half a meow.
His favorite toys (beyond the misplaced crinkly bird) were twist ties.
Acrodyl figured out the laser pointer. He would play with the dot, but mostly, he looked at the thing in your hand and tried to figure out a way to get it. If you set it down on a flat surface he could get to, he would knock it to the floor and start batting it around.
He loved wet cat food, but would only lick away all the juices, leaving the meat alone. It was the wet part he liked.
Every evening at bed time, Kathy or I would grab a cup of water. Acrodyl always loved to drink out of the cup, sticking his head in it. He tried to teach Amethyst, but she just always stuck her paw in the water. She was a trying pupil and he was a patient teacher.
Acrodyl would watch movies with us. I don't mean that he would come downstairs and hang out while we watched movies, no; he would lie down on the love seat, face the television, and watch the movie. He really seemed to like Jane Austen films and the new Star Wars trilogy (for which he can be forgiven, as he did not know a world without the new trilogy).
From the day he joined the family, the only nights I spent sleeping without him nestled on the bed with me were nights spent not in my own bed. I could count on him never being more than three or four feet away from me when I woke up in the mornings, ready for some food. He never got too close when it was too hot, and he could never get too close when it was cold.
When I was younger, the first cat I remember loving was named Barney, and he died when I was in first grade. My first grade teacher, Mrs. Thum, gave me a book about a kid dealing with the death of his cat, called "The Tenth Good Thing About Barney" which really helped me. It might have been the first time I realized that a good book can have an emotional impact. Though at the time, I guess I didn't quite process it like that. I just knew that it felt good to read of somebody struggling the same way I was struggling. I came back the next school year and read it to her class. I don't know where my copy of it is...I assume it is at my parents' house, though in all fairness it might be buried in a plastic box in my basement. You never know. But anyway, it was a great book at that time and just thinking about it now gives me a little comfort. So how many good things did I come up with about Acrodyl just now? Quite a few, it seems. Which is nice. I like that. I like remembering those things. I never want to forget them.
discussed in this post:
There has been a lot going on right now, with getting ready for the baby's arrival, so apologies to you. Right now Kathy and I are in the midst of a home-improvement blitz so that we can actually have a safe home in which to raise a small child. You know, baby-proofing, moving hazards out of the way of a child on the move, that sort of thing. One of the dangers that resided in our house was our cat Acrodyl. The only people he liked were myself and Kathy, and that was only about 90% of the time (less so with Kathy, though when he liked her he loved her. He tolerated my father, which was good for when we would go out of town. But we did not feel comfortable with the idea of having a very scared, angry cat around a baby.
See, Acrodyl was a rescue cat. He had been a litter of one, separated from his mother too soon and then abused. But at the shelter, he was taken care of very well and when we adopted him in 2004, he was very sweet. But the damage had been done in his youth, and loud noises and sudden movements always scared him. He was content sitting and laying quietly, playing with a string or a ball or a laser pointer, but he was not a cat who was into being played with physically. He took it as a threat. And a couple years ago, unaware of this, one of our friends played a little rough with him and he could never be around strangers again without hissing, swatting, screaming, lunging and biting. He had very powerful teeth, too, made sharp by the fact that he never chewed his food (he only licked it until it was soft and then swallowed it). He was not without other problems; he had a respiratory infection when we first adopted him and always had a little bit of a rasp in his breath. He was fickle about cleanliness in his litter box, to the point where he would develop bladder infections rather than use it. He got his tail caught in the bathroom door once and ran away from it, leaving a section behind (that required surgery, three days of sedation, two weeks of a head cone and three weeks of antibiotics). But he remained sweet, especially in the evenings, toward us, and we loved him. Amethyst, his little long-haired sister we adopted in December 2008, loved playing with him, chasing him around, and trying to do the things he did and he sort of tolerated her. I have pictures of them cuddling to prove it.
In December, when we found out we were expecting our first child, we were faced with a decision about what to do with the cat. We contemplated keeping him, because he was a part of the family and had been since our second week in our first home. He would greet me each evening by kneading his paws over my the laced part of my shoes (always the chagrin when he saw I was wearing sandals). He would snuggle up against Kathy's neck and purr louder than any cat I've ever heard, kneading her neck and shoulder every night. We didn't want to say goodbye to him.
But we knew it had to be done, and his mood swings got worse. When he was in a bad mood, it was sometimes terrifying to see. It was like there were two cats, one sweet and gentle and the other terrified and desperate. Only I could calm him down when he was in a mood like that. What would happen if he got in a mood like that when Kathy and the baby were home alone?
No shelters would take him because he was no longer adoptable. He was too scared of others to know that nobody was trying to hurt him. Some days, just trying to pet him made him feel threatened. So we made the hard decision and on April 28, 2010, Kathy, Amethyst and I said goodbye to him.
The saddest part of this isn't how much we cried that day, or how Amethyst wandered the house looking for him for a little bit, or how she's been afraid of strangers since that day (my father came over to pick me and Acrodyl up, and I came home alone, perhaps she got the wrong impression?), or the lack of shoe rubs. No, the saddest part is how easily we've adapted, how his memory pops up in this little instances that make it more painful than if we were constantly thinking about him. The other day, I was looking for a pencil in my desk drawer and found the pet microchip tag Acrodyl came with and subsequently chewed off his collar. The first time I cleaned the litter box afterward, I cried over scooping up the last of his poop. I cried over poop...who does that? We were working on our closet system the other night, listening to music on my computer, and my screensaver came on. It's the picture slideshow, and there were pictures of him every third or fourth one. I miss him. Kathy misses him. Amethyst misses him.
Worse is when we're doing something that Acrodyl used to involve himself in, like folding sheets. He used to get angry at us for doing that, because he just wanted to lay on them, and of course he reacted as if we were threatening him. The other night, we were folding sheets, and Amethyst was playfully trying to stop us. No fear, just playfulness, and we very easily distracted her. We both thought, "How easy is this without him?" One of us said something and the other concurred. What wasn't said, but I'm sure we both thought, was, "I don't care that it's easy. I miss him."
So, to get it out and provide a bit more closure, I'm going to list some of the things about him that were cute, hilarious, unique, and not sad.
The first day we had him, which was my first time meeting him, my sister and her husband came over to play board games, and Acrodyl fell asleep in my lap on the floor, purring.
He was so little at first, he couldn't get up on the bed. We had to help him up, but the joke was on us; he'd get up there, stand on a chest (whichever was most convenient), fart, and then run away.
We used to find him, on hot days, curled up in the bathroom sink. This got harder when we moved into the house, because he got bigger and the sink was more square, but he kept at it.
We bought him a crinkle bird, which is a kind of a cat toy, on his first day with us, which he loved dearly for three hours and then which he promptly lost. We never saw it again.
He used to put his paws in the food bowl when he ate. He tried this once with his water bowl, and was displeased with the result.
After a long day of Kathy and I running errands and being in and out of the house, Acrodyl would lay down on the rug in front of the door as if to say, "No more leaving!"
Every Christmas, Acrodyl would fall asleep on a pile of spent wrapping paper.
Always curious, Acrodyl jumped on top of the box our television came in, only to have the flaps give out underneath him. He spent three hours in the box, sleeping until Kathy called his name.
One night, at the apartment, when I got home late from work, he was so happy to see me he ran outside into the foyer when the door was open. I didn't notice until half an hour later, when he hadn't come to bed. I found him in the foyer, asleep in the corner, safe and sound and only a little annoyed.
The first time we brought home KFC Popcorn Chicken, Acrodyl went crazy for it. He kept sneaking up on us, leaping over our laps to grab pieces from our hands. It was the only people-food he liked.
We had the front door of the house open last summer, and Amethyst scampered out into the front yard. Acrodyl bolted out after her and chased her back inside. We had a hawk circling our neighborhood which Acrodyl had seen previously.
When he was sleeping, you could run your hand down his back and he would wake up with a noise that was half a purr, half a meow.
His favorite toys (beyond the misplaced crinkly bird) were twist ties.
Acrodyl figured out the laser pointer. He would play with the dot, but mostly, he looked at the thing in your hand and tried to figure out a way to get it. If you set it down on a flat surface he could get to, he would knock it to the floor and start batting it around.
He loved wet cat food, but would only lick away all the juices, leaving the meat alone. It was the wet part he liked.
Every evening at bed time, Kathy or I would grab a cup of water. Acrodyl always loved to drink out of the cup, sticking his head in it. He tried to teach Amethyst, but she just always stuck her paw in the water. She was a trying pupil and he was a patient teacher.
Acrodyl would watch movies with us. I don't mean that he would come downstairs and hang out while we watched movies, no; he would lie down on the love seat, face the television, and watch the movie. He really seemed to like Jane Austen films and the new Star Wars trilogy (for which he can be forgiven, as he did not know a world without the new trilogy).
From the day he joined the family, the only nights I spent sleeping without him nestled on the bed with me were nights spent not in my own bed. I could count on him never being more than three or four feet away from me when I woke up in the mornings, ready for some food. He never got too close when it was too hot, and he could never get too close when it was cold.
When I was younger, the first cat I remember loving was named Barney, and he died when I was in first grade. My first grade teacher, Mrs. Thum, gave me a book about a kid dealing with the death of his cat, called "The Tenth Good Thing About Barney" which really helped me. It might have been the first time I realized that a good book can have an emotional impact. Though at the time, I guess I didn't quite process it like that. I just knew that it felt good to read of somebody struggling the same way I was struggling. I came back the next school year and read it to her class. I don't know where my copy of it is...I assume it is at my parents' house, though in all fairness it might be buried in a plastic box in my basement. You never know. But anyway, it was a great book at that time and just thinking about it now gives me a little comfort. So how many good things did I come up with about Acrodyl just now? Quite a few, it seems. Which is nice. I like that. I like remembering those things. I never want to forget them.
discussed in this post:
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Slight Changes
To all of my readers:
I just wanted to apologize for any confusion caused by the recent "Please Enter Username and Password" pop up you may have encountered when visiting my blog. I protected my twitter account, but didn't realize that would affect my blog readers. This has since been fixed, and you should have no problem. For the record, if you thought you wouldn't be able to read my blog without a password, your fears are understandable but I want you to understand that I would never do that to my readers. I'm a believer in free access to information. Not that I'm into pirating music or movies or books, but there's a fine line between justifiable protection of content and greed. Anyway, you would have been able to read my blog but not my twitter feed unless you 1) had a Twitter account and 2) were an approved follower of me. Now, you should be fine.
I also wanted to talk about ads. I know that ads can be annoying, but I've allowed them on my page because if, for any reason, you click on an advertisement on my blog, Google pays me a little bit of money. Now, I've been doing this for a year and a half now, and so far, I've made a whopping two dollars and forty one cents. But, you know...it's a minor source of income. Actually, I have not received this money because they won't send a check for less than fifty dollars. So, twenty-two and a half more years, I should be getting a check.
Another change you will see in future posts (and also added retroactively to older posts) is a new way to monetize my blog. This one I really like, and I think it might actually garner a better payoff than Google Adsense (the ads you already see). It's called Amazon Associates, and what happens is that I can link to a product sold by Amazon and if you, my reader, clicks on the link and then subsequently buys the product, I get a commission on the sale. I won't be posting random links, though. I talk about lots of literature, film and music on the blog, so whenever I mention something, I'll link to it on Amazon. And yes, I am aware of the irony of a partnership whereby Amazon might pay me money after I lamented the way they handle the vinyl they sell. And let it be known that I would much prefer you to go buy books and records from local book and record stores, but you can always get a great deal on Amazon and many of us (myself included) will continue to buy products on Amazon.
So, with that being said, I will now demonstrate this new feature.
This past Saturday (April 17th) was Record Store Day. I went to Euclid Records and picked up the new Broken Bells LP on Vinyl. And it's freaking awesome, as I said before in my review. I also found a copy of The Best of Buddy Rich on vinyl (a Best-Of which was never subsequently released on CD) and Kathy looked through to bargain bin to find a copy of the American Graffiti Soundtrack for two dollars. Sweet deal! I highly recommend you celebrate Record Store Day next year. And no, going to the music section at Best Buy and picking up the new Justin Stupidface Beiber CD does not count.
Discussed in this post:
I just wanted to apologize for any confusion caused by the recent "Please Enter Username and Password" pop up you may have encountered when visiting my blog. I protected my twitter account, but didn't realize that would affect my blog readers. This has since been fixed, and you should have no problem. For the record, if you thought you wouldn't be able to read my blog without a password, your fears are understandable but I want you to understand that I would never do that to my readers. I'm a believer in free access to information. Not that I'm into pirating music or movies or books, but there's a fine line between justifiable protection of content and greed. Anyway, you would have been able to read my blog but not my twitter feed unless you 1) had a Twitter account and 2) were an approved follower of me. Now, you should be fine.
I also wanted to talk about ads. I know that ads can be annoying, but I've allowed them on my page because if, for any reason, you click on an advertisement on my blog, Google pays me a little bit of money. Now, I've been doing this for a year and a half now, and so far, I've made a whopping two dollars and forty one cents. But, you know...it's a minor source of income. Actually, I have not received this money because they won't send a check for less than fifty dollars. So, twenty-two and a half more years, I should be getting a check.
Another change you will see in future posts (and also added retroactively to older posts) is a new way to monetize my blog. This one I really like, and I think it might actually garner a better payoff than Google Adsense (the ads you already see). It's called Amazon Associates, and what happens is that I can link to a product sold by Amazon and if you, my reader, clicks on the link and then subsequently buys the product, I get a commission on the sale. I won't be posting random links, though. I talk about lots of literature, film and music on the blog, so whenever I mention something, I'll link to it on Amazon. And yes, I am aware of the irony of a partnership whereby Amazon might pay me money after I lamented the way they handle the vinyl they sell. And let it be known that I would much prefer you to go buy books and records from local book and record stores, but you can always get a great deal on Amazon and many of us (myself included) will continue to buy products on Amazon.
So, with that being said, I will now demonstrate this new feature.
This past Saturday (April 17th) was Record Store Day. I went to Euclid Records and picked up the new Broken Bells LP on Vinyl. And it's freaking awesome, as I said before in my review. I also found a copy of The Best of Buddy Rich on vinyl (a Best-Of which was never subsequently released on CD) and Kathy looked through to bargain bin to find a copy of the American Graffiti Soundtrack for two dollars. Sweet deal! I highly recommend you celebrate Record Store Day next year. And no, going to the music section at Best Buy and picking up the new Justin Stupidface Beiber CD does not count.
Discussed in this post:
Wednesday, April 07, 2010
Float Trip
Well friends, the calendar is telling us that it’s early Spring, which is a time of year I generally love; baseball and cycling seasons start up, the days get longer, I can open my bedroom windows at night and hear the breeze stir the magnolia out front…my moonroof opens and lets in a wind which cools instead of freezes…the aforementioned magnolia tree explodes in shades of pink which then rain down on my front lawn, causing me to blog about it and make my readers question my sexuality…and summer is right around the corner, of course.
But that’s just what the calendar is telling us. And while baseball and cycling seasons are just starting, and the days are getting longer and my bedroom windows are open at night, the hot air coming in my moonroof, the browning magnolia petals on the lawn and the thermometer tell us a different story. They tell us that Summer is upon us. Or, rather, they’re telling us that if it’s Spring already, brace yourself for one hell of a nasty hot Summer.
Hot weather, I can mostly handle. My car does have a/c, as does the house and my office. I own shorts and sandals and t-shirts and the ice cream truck comes down my block at least once every other day during the months of June through August. But there are certain things I like to do in the summer which involve being outside, you know, where there is no air conditioning as a rule, and I’d like to be able to do those a) without collapsing from heat stroke and b) alongside my wife who is, as I mentioned before, pregnant, and who is therefore likely to be extra sensitive to things like heat indices firmly ensconced in the triple digit range.
One of my favorite ways to cool off on a hot day is to indulge in a cold treat. I believe I have mentioned before how I adore Fitz’s Root Beer, a locally brewed root beer of which I had cases shipped to me when I lived in Minneapolis. And fortunately for me, Fitz’s is sold at the local grocery stores around here, so even in the middle of a ridiculously hot night, if my wife (or I) start craving it, I can run to Schnucks or Shop n’ Save and pick up a 4 pack. Of course, if we start craving it during regular business hours, we could always run to the restaurant where the root beer is brewed and pick up a frosty bottomless mug or a heaping root beer float.
Of course another way to cool off is to go to Ted Drewe’s, which serves up some of the best Frozen Custard around (and the best Frozen Custard on Route 66, I should assert). They’ve got so many flavors to choose from, I still haven’t tried them all (and the combinations, OH! the combinations!!). They even serve up a great float, which makes you believe their vanilla custard was engineered specifically for such a purpose. It’s that good. And if they’re closed, again, I can pick some up at the grocery store.
Now, there is a travesty in St. Louis when it comes to these two items; I have yet to find a restaurant that serves a Fitz’s Root Beer/Ted Drewe’s root beer float. To that I say, “What the hell, St. Louis? This is a serious problem we need to solve right away.” Look; when you go to Fitz’s, they serve you up a root beer float made with their amazing root beer and a very generous helping of Edy’s or Breyer’s ice cream (I can’t remember which, but I know it’s one of those). Really, Fitz’s? I mean, I guess it’s not generic Sam’s Club ice cream, but still. And at Ted Drewe’s, when you order your float, you get Barq’s Root Beer. And I guess, I could give these two places some leeway; Fitz’s chooses an ice cream that everybody can get their hands on, so they know what it tastes like with other root beers and they can tell the difference between other root beers in a float and theirs in a float. And it works the other way for Ted Drewe’s; everyone who’s had a root beer float has probably had a scoop of vanilla in a Barq’s root beer, so give them that familiar root beer with the unique floating mound of frozen custard. But…you other places? What’s your excuse? There are plenty of restaurants in St. Louis which offer Fitz’s Root Beer on their menus, and just as many serve Ted Drewe’s with their desserts. But the places I can think of that serve both do not serve them together (these are mostly places like Blues City Deli or Mom’s Deli which serve both of these in individual containers out of stand-up coolers). But think of it; this is the ultimate St. Louis dessert. The only way to get a more ultimate St. Louis dessert out of a frosted glass mug would be to liquefy a Gooey Butter Cake, and raise your hand if you think that sounds satisfying (Dad, you and your brothers need to put your hands down right now). Now, I have not been to every restaurant in St. Louis, so maybe there is a place that serves this amazing concoction (so amazing, it makes a cynical atheist like myself admit that if Heaven exists, it probably tastes something like a Fitz’s/Ted Drewe’s Float), but I haven’t found one. The only way I have ever been able to enjoy one of these is to purchase the two items separately and combine them at home. And you should try it, yourself. Right now. Don’t live in St. Louis? Come visit, and I’ll join you. Because nobody likes to drink alone, even if it is a root beer float.
But that’s just what the calendar is telling us. And while baseball and cycling seasons are just starting, and the days are getting longer and my bedroom windows are open at night, the hot air coming in my moonroof, the browning magnolia petals on the lawn and the thermometer tell us a different story. They tell us that Summer is upon us. Or, rather, they’re telling us that if it’s Spring already, brace yourself for one hell of a nasty hot Summer.
Hot weather, I can mostly handle. My car does have a/c, as does the house and my office. I own shorts and sandals and t-shirts and the ice cream truck comes down my block at least once every other day during the months of June through August. But there are certain things I like to do in the summer which involve being outside, you know, where there is no air conditioning as a rule, and I’d like to be able to do those a) without collapsing from heat stroke and b) alongside my wife who is, as I mentioned before, pregnant, and who is therefore likely to be extra sensitive to things like heat indices firmly ensconced in the triple digit range.
One of my favorite ways to cool off on a hot day is to indulge in a cold treat. I believe I have mentioned before how I adore Fitz’s Root Beer, a locally brewed root beer of which I had cases shipped to me when I lived in Minneapolis. And fortunately for me, Fitz’s is sold at the local grocery stores around here, so even in the middle of a ridiculously hot night, if my wife (or I) start craving it, I can run to Schnucks or Shop n’ Save and pick up a 4 pack. Of course, if we start craving it during regular business hours, we could always run to the restaurant where the root beer is brewed and pick up a frosty bottomless mug or a heaping root beer float.
Of course another way to cool off is to go to Ted Drewe’s, which serves up some of the best Frozen Custard around (and the best Frozen Custard on Route 66, I should assert). They’ve got so many flavors to choose from, I still haven’t tried them all (and the combinations, OH! the combinations!!). They even serve up a great float, which makes you believe their vanilla custard was engineered specifically for such a purpose. It’s that good. And if they’re closed, again, I can pick some up at the grocery store.
Now, there is a travesty in St. Louis when it comes to these two items; I have yet to find a restaurant that serves a Fitz’s Root Beer/Ted Drewe’s root beer float. To that I say, “What the hell, St. Louis? This is a serious problem we need to solve right away.” Look; when you go to Fitz’s, they serve you up a root beer float made with their amazing root beer and a very generous helping of Edy’s or Breyer’s ice cream (I can’t remember which, but I know it’s one of those). Really, Fitz’s? I mean, I guess it’s not generic Sam’s Club ice cream, but still. And at Ted Drewe’s, when you order your float, you get Barq’s Root Beer. And I guess, I could give these two places some leeway; Fitz’s chooses an ice cream that everybody can get their hands on, so they know what it tastes like with other root beers and they can tell the difference between other root beers in a float and theirs in a float. And it works the other way for Ted Drewe’s; everyone who’s had a root beer float has probably had a scoop of vanilla in a Barq’s root beer, so give them that familiar root beer with the unique floating mound of frozen custard. But…you other places? What’s your excuse? There are plenty of restaurants in St. Louis which offer Fitz’s Root Beer on their menus, and just as many serve Ted Drewe’s with their desserts. But the places I can think of that serve both do not serve them together (these are mostly places like Blues City Deli or Mom’s Deli which serve both of these in individual containers out of stand-up coolers). But think of it; this is the ultimate St. Louis dessert. The only way to get a more ultimate St. Louis dessert out of a frosted glass mug would be to liquefy a Gooey Butter Cake, and raise your hand if you think that sounds satisfying (Dad, you and your brothers need to put your hands down right now). Now, I have not been to every restaurant in St. Louis, so maybe there is a place that serves this amazing concoction (so amazing, it makes a cynical atheist like myself admit that if Heaven exists, it probably tastes something like a Fitz’s/Ted Drewe’s Float), but I haven’t found one. The only way I have ever been able to enjoy one of these is to purchase the two items separately and combine them at home. And you should try it, yourself. Right now. Don’t live in St. Louis? Come visit, and I’ll join you. Because nobody likes to drink alone, even if it is a root beer float.
Thursday, April 01, 2010
Welcome Friend to New Administratrix Post Home
Hello friendly! This domain web site for now has being taking over. Google acquired Blogger 2006 and for since sold to new exciting Web Development guru Flying Dog Super Media Group! Posting this for benefit of readership. Now!
These blog has been selected to hold Welcome Message with certain number other blogs (for list see example of media) due to high traffic areas of interest (New Zealand, USA, No Canada) via Google Analytics (Patent Pending). These blogs are to be in future maintained by and through old offices of adminstration except for to have parent company affiliated messages periodically.
These blog been chosen for high usage of key words in search for "music" "books" and "vinyl" for which customer base greatly enthusiastic and reading. Connected to socialist media outlets (spacebook profile, tweeting machinery with bird logo, sexy fun time chat site negatively impact) very productive for multiple hits and increased marketing output.
For one day of every month or two, site specific messages to be generated by new parent affiliate office company as message to readers for what to be buying in store. Links to be provided (please Click Here for preview!) to new amazing fun interesting stuff!
Are we enjoying the fun yet? But there is more for to be coming!
Beginning January of year twenty hundred and elevent, please register for website priveleges including comment feature, reading feature, pay feature. All major credit cards accepted or call new toll free number (not yet available for calling from US land or cellular telefony) to pay by autotake debit or personal check numbered above three thousand twelve.
Future inprovements may conclude:
-Open Source Development platforms.
-User created content (via yourtube and wikipeople)
-Contests Galore!! (Win free Television upgrade!)
-Chocolate covered raisin cereal
Please continue checking back for more of fun times and good stuffs! Until next times!
Zarniwoop Van Harl, President, Megadodo Publications!!
hugging_Kitten.jpg
These blog has been selected to hold Welcome Message with certain number other blogs (for list see example of media) due to high traffic areas of interest (New Zealand, USA, No Canada) via Google Analytics (Patent Pending). These blogs are to be in future maintained by and through old offices of adminstration except for to have parent company affiliated messages periodically.
These blog been chosen for high usage of key words in search for "music" "books" and "vinyl" for which customer base greatly enthusiastic and reading. Connected to socialist media outlets (spacebook profile, tweeting machinery with bird logo, sexy fun time chat site negatively impact) very productive for multiple hits and increased marketing output.
For one day of every month or two, site specific messages to be generated by new parent affiliate office company as message to readers for what to be buying in store. Links to be provided (please Click Here for preview!) to new amazing fun interesting stuff!
Are we enjoying the fun yet? But there is more for to be coming!
Beginning January of year twenty hundred and elevent, please register for website priveleges including comment feature, reading feature, pay feature. All major credit cards accepted or call new toll free number (not yet available for calling from US land or cellular telefony) to pay by autotake debit or personal check numbered above three thousand twelve.
Future inprovements may conclude:
-Open Source Development platforms.
-User created content (via yourtube and wikipeople)
-Contests Galore!! (Win free Television upgrade!)
-Chocolate covered raisin cereal
Please continue checking back for more of fun times and good stuffs! Until next times!
Zarniwoop Van Harl, President, Megadodo Publications!!
hugging_Kitten.jpg
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