reading list

Andrew Jackson by Sean Wilentz
as in "...down the mighty Mississip!"

Muhammad Ali's greatest fight: Cassius Clay vs. The United States of America by Howard Bingham and Max Wallace

Roald Dahl by Jeremy Treglown

An Open Heart by The Dalai Lama

Perilous Times: Free Speech in Wartime by Geoffry Stone

Adverbs by Daniel Handler
just started this one


..........


...Speaking of Ali, Prez Jackson, and the Dalai ("The Lama"?), and with Father's Day looming ahead, I've been thinking about Heroes. Not the TV show or the Super variety, but the ones you admire, look up to, learn about and learn from, want to be like when you grow up, that type of hero. It started with the Fallen Hero category, the ones that disappoint. As a former Dodger fan (I make no apologies: I was young, they were the best team not in pinstripes.) I worshipped at the cleats of Steve Garvey. But instead of the Hall of Fame and the Governor's mansion, he does shows on the shopping network and ESPN 6. As a former naive idealist, I voted for Bill Clinton (again, no apologies: he was on Arsenio Hall!). Yes, he did a lot of important, quality Presidential stuff, but now he creates crossword puzzles for the Times, and his legacy has an icky, tacky element that hasn't gone away.

So who are my Heroes? Ali, most defiantly and definitely. Jackie Robinson, and Branch Rickey should get credit too. My Dad. My son. Colonel Joshua Chamberlain of the 20th Maine. Teddy Roosevelt. Ted Williams. Harriet Tubman. Astronauts. My Father-in-law. Cal Ripken. Gandhi. Batman. Lech Walesa, Michael Collins, Bono. Thurgood Marshall. Maya Angelou. Chrissie Hynde. Jessie Owens, Bethany Hamilton, Bart Giamatti. Sam Houston. Thomas Jefferson. Colman McCarthy: www.satyamag.com/nov01/mccarthy.html . Abraham Lincoln. John Steinbeck. Aragorn. Condoleeza Rice. Pat Tillman. Stan Lee. Frank McCourt. Kurt Vonnegut. Beowulf.

I miss the Pretty Stewardess...

http://www.flickr.com/photos/kokogiak/sets/1425737/


Some would say "ah, the good ol' days..." and Pop would start railing against women at the Academy.

Mr. Johnson & the Aliens

"God is 1" bigger than Grandaddy."

Um... okay. You definitely have my attention, son #3.

"God came before the aliens."

What have I been letting him watch...? Does Dora discuss extraterrestrials?

"So who made the aliens?"

"Mr. Johnson."

???????

"Mr. Johnson, but then he died because he was old."

"Isn't God much bigger than Grandaddy? He must be big enough to make, say, an elephant?"

(much intense thought going on now. I could tell by his eyebrows.)

"Yeah, he's big. But how did he make their blood? Eeyew!"

End of conversation. He walked away, leaving me absolutely no clue as to what started the whole thing, or just who in the heck Mr. Johnson is.

CSET test

How to pass* the CSET: Multiple Subjects exam :

onion garlic cashews
dry roasted peanuts
chex mix, cheesey or bold, or both
dried fruit chunks
mini pretzels
chipotle cashews (not too many, they're spicy)
raisins
dried cherries
skittles
more chex mix
frozen chocolate chips
granola bits and goldfish from the kids' lunch snacks
a few of those salted dry peas, for color



take a handful of each, put in an old pickle jar and shake vigorously, but not so much the pretzels crumble and all the good stuff gets knocked off the nuts. take all that dried fruit crap and put in more chocolate chips, and some m&m's if ya got 'em. shake some more, but gently so the chocolate stays on top. wash down with copious amounts of red bull or guava rockstar ("70% juice!")


Cliffs TestPrep (500+ pages)
DK Timelines of World History (650+ pgs)
NY Times Guide to essential Knowledge (1072, I kid you not!)
Barron's American History the easy way (just shy of 500)
Everything your 4th grader needs to know (375+)
... the 6th grader book too (384)
American History desk reference (450+)
People magazine's 100 Most Beautiful (I needed a break!)
XAM (slogan "Xam to cram") cset prep guide
all those language and grammar books and notes from the classes
just finished, yet hardly remembered....

read a page or two here and there, attempt to convince yourself you really will remember when Ptolemy IV invaded Mesopotamia, if Patrick Henry knew how to diagram sentences, and whether the /ai/ and /ea/ phonemes rhyme in free verse.



good luck.




prayer helps.







*seeing as how I have not passed it yet myself, or even taken one section of it, any claims to this method resulting in the successful passing of exam are purely speculative. I'll let you know in apprx 2 weeks, 2 days, and 17 hours from now, if I'm not certifiably insane by then.

"Everything was beautiful, and nothing hurt."

"We're terrible animals. I think that the Earth's immune system is trying to get rid of us, as well it should."

"Perhaps, when we remember wars, we should take off our clothes and paint ourselves blue and go on all fours all day long and grunt like pigs. That would surely be more appropriate than noble oratory and shows of flags and well-oiled guns. "

"Go take a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut."

"If you can do no good, at least do no harm."

"...[freedom of speech] isn't something somebody else gives you. That's something you give to yourself. "

"You realize, of course, that everything I say is horseshit. "

"So it goes."



And so goes to Peace my beloved Kurt Vonnegut.

work in progress

If the pen is mightier than the sword, and spoken language is more powerful than the written word, it follows that the greatest responsibility of those who respect and care for language is to talk a lot. It can be beneficial to research and report on words, to study where words originated, what words have meant and mean today, and how they are used in various forms of communication. However, books filled with words about words will not replace the impact of language when spoken and heard. Just as poetry or song lyrics must be said aloud to reveal their depth and fullness, in order to truly know the voice, sound and feeling of language it must be shared vocally. In order for a language to be kept alive it must be spoken, not merely captured and preserved on pages. Language gains strength and increased vitality from continuous use, it expands and obtains variety the more it is used. For language to be kept healthy it must be cultivated, nurtured to improve by the search for new words, or better words. Words have the potential to harm, even to destroy, when used ignorantly or maliciously.

The Three Uglies

Or, Apparently it is Not Okay to use Certain Terms of Endearment in Public*, even though they most certainly are not even close to ugly, or even average, and anyone could tell that was the case just by seeing how good looking their Father is, and who was obviously using the word in a humorous ironic/oxymoron/jumbo shrimp kind of way.


Anyway... I don't carry a wallet, just one of those money clips (eternally empty) with 2 slots sewed so tight I have to chisel out my driver's licence, but that's the whole point because otherwise men, like my Dad, would shove everything they own and walk around with a leather and receipt-paper brick in their pocket. No joke, he still has 25 year old pictures of our prom dates in there, grocery lists for the Safeway that was torn down in '92, and business cards, blood donor cards, membership cards, dental appointment cards.... There's cash in there too, but not the spending kind -- the lucky dollar bill with 6 two's, the lucky dollar bill with the full house, the $2 bill....

So I don't carry pictures of The Wife or the Boys, and it's not because I'm embarrassed or ashamed, I just don't like sitting on the photo album/rolodex. I also stay away from carrying pictures because I lose too much of the day: one glance at The Wife and I'm stunned, swept off in reverie, amazed that this gorgeous woman will actually walk into our house and ask what's for dinner. And pity the unfortunate soul that sees the school photos on my notebook, because that uncontrollable swell of boast just takes over, and I can talk about Uglies #1,2, and 3 for hours.

We get in the habit of using phrases or words to describe certain people or events in our lives, and that word, Honey or Bubba or That Summer, is a shortcut to all the memories and emotions we associate with that person or time in our life, and they are released and sometimes overwhelm us when the word is mentioned. Or we use the word to mean so much more than the letters spell out, there are paragraphs and stories and deep bonds behind behind the words we choose to call or describe those most important to us.

My Boys are my Pride and Joy. That is a description men have used for eons to label any and all, from sons to sports cars. It might have just started as a habit with me, show off the pictures and use the phrase, but now I have come to realize those words personify 1 and 2 for me. #1 has always been a warm, loving, bundle of laughter and kisses. We chose his name because it meant laughter, he smiled and giggled at 3 months, and I could never help laughing when he cried that oh-so-mad cry babies do. He has never shied from a hug and a kiss, except now when I pick him up from school, and has always been able to bounce back almost instantly from any rough time. This is the kid that never learned to whisper and never thought to hold a grudge. He's the boy getting yelled at for something but forgives and forgets before the scolding is over, and he is already on the the next minute of life, wondering which is better, DC or Marvel, what skateboard should he get, hey Dad what's for dinner, and did I show you my new molar? I can never not smile when I see him or think of him, and there is a burst of Joy when I think of how blessed I am to be his Dad.

So if #1 is joy, #2 must be pride... it's not that he doesn't make me happy, it's that he reminds me I was given a second chance on the whole family situation, and I get to be a full time, morning to night, 365 days a year Dad. He is proof I could be a father and do more than the fun weekend stuff, I could help someone learn and grow daily, I wouldn't miss anything he went through and would always be there as soon as he needed me. Of course this meant being there for the barf at midnight, and the fifth week of vacation "I'm boooored" whine, and the endless repetition of mundane family life (the sentence I have said billions of times in my life: "Get your hands out of your... a) mouth, b) nose, c) pants or food"**). I am immensely proud of #2 as a person, a student, and a son, and proud of how others look to him as a brother, friend, and classmate. He is clever and quick, smart and eager, goofy and spastic, and while he wants to be quietly cool and tough, he is still sensitive and silly.

And #3? I guess it's hard to be the littlest brother, you aren't first, everything has been done before so you struggle to be original. The comparisons start right away -- he has #1's cheeks, #2 was crawling by now, look at your brothers, go ask your brothers.... We see a lot of the other two in #3, and of course they are his primary teachers and examples. He seems a lot like #1 physically and in temperament, but now has started doing #2's nutty faces and actions, so he'll blend it all together and make it his own. I just hope we're ready for it. We've always said there will be that phone call: #1 is in trouble for getting the beer and starting the party, #2 is in trouble for fighting with 1 to stop the party, and #3 will be on the roof, stripped down to boxers and football helmet, and ready to jump over the hedge and into the neighbor's pool. ...But #3 is our Heart, our healing and our grace -- he is the seal, the sum, he is the inexorable bond that makes us, as a family, One. I enjoy #3, adore #3, , look into the eyes of #3 and melt. I am already sad knowing someday #3 will leave.


ok, now we're back in hallmark territory.




**and yes, believe it or not, sometimes all four in the same breath, for the same child.
*and certainly not that one, Bro, at least not until they're quite a bit older.

Damsels?

Did you know over 400 women served and fought in the Civil War, posing as men? Most were not discovered until injured or killed (or pregnancy might give it away also).

Delirious

No, not jammin' to Prince, just my state of mind as the fever spiked around 103. I don't know what was worse, the raging inferno of my forehead or Florence Nightengale applying the water torture at 2 am -- she said it was a cool washcloth, but I think she wanted the insurance money.


Lucinda Williams West
Sam Moore Overnight Sensational
Pete Yorn Nightcrawler


The Rescue Artist Edward Dolnick
interesting info about stolen art, Munch's The Scream and how British people talk ("I was blaind oot of me skool")
The Sex Life of Food Bunny Crumpacker
makes you hungry and horny, except for the parts about cannibals and Hitler; worth reading for the author's name alone
Last Notes Tamas Dobozy

bunk beds

Another example of quality writing, and not only because he mentions me....

http://twobuyfour.blogspot.com/



My boys all sleep in the same funky stinky snorey room: #2 on the top bunk where he has built himself a little old lady's cocoon of pillows and blankets, stuffed animals and special treasures, library books we can never find, and 83 dirty socks... another few years he'll have a wet bar, hot plate, cheerleader -- we'll never get him down; #3 has the bottom bunk, kept clear and clean due to the nightly Moses impersonation, parting the sea of legos, cars, books and blankets to the floor to be stubbed/kicked/stepped on by me at 7am the next morning or into the crack between bed and wall, where they disappear into the chasm never to be seen again... unfortunately, another likely location of many library books; #1 isn't a full-time resident, so now that he he out-grew the dresser drawer, we slide him underneath the bunk bed.

...and they talk. They talk and talk and have great important discussions in the dark. Or not so important, but the sillier they get the louder the giggles get, so I can give the special Father voice, the deep, grave, ominous "Boys..." for them to settle down. #3 usually provides some ambiance, a little mood lighting from his collection of my lost flashlights, or from the view master projector, or maybe with a light show with the 250 laser pointer/key chain/tire gauges my Dad has given him over the years. I don't let them stay up too late, I want them to grow strong and healthy plus I don't want them grumpy the next day, but often I will sit at my desk and simply listen to them, listen to the low hushed voices in the dark, listen to the murmurs slow, quiet, and drift away. I don't hear or understand most of what they say (yugiohbionicle what huh?) but what is important is that they are together, healthy and safe, growing and building memories of how special is to have, and to be, a brother. They might not think of it for another 30 years, but maybe on a night such as tonight, they will, and it will be good.

And, as if on cue, one of them has started snoring. I love my boys.

What Would Jack Do?

Ok, no one told me BEFORE we spent all summer watching season after season, disc after disc after disc, explosion after explosion, corrupt deceitful mole after corrupt deceitful government official, rising body count after rising body count of everyone he knows/meets/sleeps with... etc. after etc. ...that 24 was on Monday nights?!?!?!? How can I watch Heroes and 24?

Actually, unless Heroes gets totally silly, and I mean extremely silly enough to outweigh having 2 of the 3 most beautiful women on TV, it will be an easy choice. I'm sorry, but Jack has one hour left to convince me he is worth watching after spending the 1st two nights of the new season coming back from every commercial break to announce yet another attack resulting in the loss of hundreds and hundreds of lives, only to be topped off with a mushroom cloud over L.A. ?!?!?!? I know we're numb/oblivious to death and destruction, but enough is enough. It's almost as ridiculous as the dried Elmer's glue all over his hand -- c'mon, we all did that in elementary school: peel it off already, scare the girls, and go out to recess.

resolution revolution

No wonder I've already broken 80-90% of these... gotta put it out in the universe, right? I guess subconciously I know there's no need for resolutions, no need to improve on what's close to perfect, right? Ok, I'll add "find some humility" to the list....

It's that time of the fresh new year, time for the list of ways to make myself a better person in 2007 ...

1. eat right, exercise more, lose weight... what?!?!? It could happen.
2. do not buy any new books. I feel guilty when I look at the bookshelves and quickly find 5 books I haven't opened since standing in line @ the bookstore. It's like inviting friends over and not opening the front door. Well, I guess I open the door, but then stick them in the corner behind a plant or picture frame and only come by to dust once a month. So, after the current cache of gift cards are gone, no more new books until the rest are read.
3. no more "maybe" or "we'll see" -- what kind of wishy-washy Father image is that presenting to the 3 Uglies??? They need to see decisive decision-making, strong convictions and leadership, so the answer is a simple flat-out "No" -- I don't care what they ask. May not be popular with the Boys, but it will build character.
4. study each and every day, and complete written assignments before the last 8 hours before class.
5. listen to more Ray Charles.
6. Stop wasting paper plates. Those things can be washed meal after meal, and even when transparent they're still good for toast (lightly buttered).
7. get a job. no, seriously! This homemaker deal can't go on forever, unless I start scratchin' some winning tickets....
8. practice typing with more than 2 fingers. By '08 should be able to work up to 3 or 4, maybe even utilize these opposable thumbs.
9. learn how to spell "opposable"
10. ... ?

ok, that's enough to work on for now.

http://cagle.com/news/BushIraq3000/main.asp

wha' happn'd in ought-six?*

The past year is officially deep-'06ed... and did anything worth remembering happen? No new children or vehicles; same home, same wife; no major medical emergencies, and successfully avoided attending any funerals... in comparison to tumultuous '04 and mundane '05, an above average year. A few highlights...

• #3 started kindergarten, so that's the baby now in school and 8:30 to 3:30 are gloriously kid-free, leaving much more quality time with TMW&BWITW -- you wouldn't believe how many shopping malls are within driving distance of our house! Oh happy day.
• But the sure-fire cure for too much of a good thing? I quit my job and went back to school. No showers, no shaving, wardrobe choices severely narrowed down to shorts, flips, and a rotation of 4 tees. Oh happy day! No paycheck, no Macy's discount, no lunch at Mimi's... but to prove how wonderful she is The Wife embraced mall walking and window shopping so we could still enjoy some time together! Oh happy....
• Broke an elbow and sprained a wrist, both mine, same arm, riding #1's skateboard. "You're 40, not 14. I know they sound the same, but..." said the smart-ass Doc. He said learn the lesson and stay off your son's board. I agreed, and went out and got my own, bigger and better than his.
• Speaking of 40, passed that milestone and the medical exam that accompanies it with flying colors... the Doc didn't smile when I asked if he wanted to share a cigarette when it was over, but I thought it was funny. The Wife also hit 40, and we celebrated our 10th anniversary, which all adds up to 90.
• Gained a good 10 pounds (isn't that akin to "a good way to put an eye out"?) but I carry it well, I still look good: this is the body of a 37-yr old, 38 tops, sitting here washing down peanut brittle with the last of the holiday eggnog. Straight out of the carton.
• The Folks sold their house, the gathering place since I was 13. A lot of football and capture the flag out in front, sunsets in the back yard, parties and celebrations in the den, arguments and hanging out and family dinners in the kitchen.
• Sheesh, they always copy what I do -- The Bro and The Sis decided to take the plunge, again. (No, not to each other.)
• took an amazingly fun and relaxing vacation with our Great Friends, driving up the coast to San Fran with stops along the way... but have no pictures to prove it since I still can't figure out how to get the pix from 2005's vacation out of the camera. Maybe that should be an '07 resolution....
• made new friends from watching #2 play football, we bonded searching for our kids on the sideline (there he is, on the bench! No, he's over by the water bottles!) -- but how long should you be friends before you let someone steal an oven for you? no reason, just asking....
• taught my first class full of kids -- talked so fast I was done in half the time and had to make stuff up for 30 minutes, but it was only art. But was asked, twice, in different places, if I was a teacher, so there must be an aura about me. Now if I could just get a job about me... another resolution!
• with a thumping disco beat: "San Diego Super Chargers, Charge!"

...and speaking of resolutions, I think I'll work on those next

*no explanation, just couldn't do the "year in review"

Reading List

The March E.L. Doctorow
A Man Without A Country Kurt Vonnegut

oh Tannenbaum

update: the WalMart version -- edited not due to the evil known as censorship, but owing to the power of holiday songs playing endlessly... "You better not pout, you better not cry, you better not use bad words when telling Christamas stories, 'cause Santa Claus is coming..." ...you know the rest. Heed the warning.


Oh no, no studying tonight... yes, the Algebra Final is Monday, but that's what the case of Red Bull and 10 hours of Sunday night are for....

Tonight, was The Night. Anticipation ran high, we had talked and planned and double-checked our schedules. We made arrangements, synchronized our watches. We didn't know why, but we did. We worked out the specifics, after 10 years you don't just leap into it like crazed weasels anymore, we both made a few concessions, a few adjustments. We both know by now not to hold the past up as a model, to let our expectations get too high, to make any attempt at recapturing past glory. People change. You learn to settle. The last thing anyone wants to hear in this situation is "Well, it was the thought that counts."

"It's not your fault."

"It's ok, it happens to a lot of people. Come sit over here on the couch."

"We can always try again next year."

"You know, on Oprah today..." *

Yes, tonight was the night: Johnny Mathis, hot buttered rum, the candles all glowing... it's time to decorate the tree. Of course the classic tunes were quickly replaced by It's a Muppet Christmas and none of the lights worked, unless you count the plink! when they were stepped on, and it took all of 3 minutes for the tree to ever so slightly begin leaning... but it had to be done.

The tree choosing was probably our smoothest ever. These situations are rife with danger, a veritible minefield on the snowy (not literally, it was 72 and sunny, as always) path to holiday joy. The ghosts of christmas tree farms past: ... Three children running amuck in the muck, lost among the pines and firs, either falling on love with the largest most expensive tree -- look Dad, it's only 9 dollars and 495 cents! -- or the sad-sack dry bough found in the mud -- I'll decorate it Dad, I'll take care of it, pu-leeeeze! ... The Wife soliciting my opinion on which tree best matches the living room, or should she choose a shade of green to best match the ornaments? For which we now know the best response in a tree farm full of chidren and people in Santa hats is not along the lines of "they're all Tannenbaum green, they're all Tannenbaum trees, none of them will Tannenbaum fit and I have to Tannenbaum rearrange the Tannenbaum furniture six times anyway, so just Tannenbaum pick one!" We don't go back to that place anymore. ... #2 showing #3 the cute and cuddley farm animals at the petting zoo, and #3 being young and still adorable saying in his most adorable voice how cute the animals are, even the cute turkey, awww... until #1 chimes in, with his not adorable I have the faintest whisps of a future mustache and I'm almost a teenager voice, "They kill them all for dinner."

Nope, in comparison, this year was cake. Makes me wonder when the tree will fall over, tonight at 2am, or tomorrow when no one will be home to rescue the cat pinned underneath?







*ok, I know that last one doesn't really apply, but I hate to hear it anyway. Actually, she prob. did have a Christamas Tree show and everyone in the audience got their own 10 ft. Fir and an elf to string the lights.

Super Librarian

Wow. Talk about lost in a good book(blog)...

http://shellysbooks.blogspot.com/

don't rush.

make some tea, spend some time.

Back to the Future*

Ok, break from studying. Not just 'cause I'm tired of conjugating el, oops, los verbos but cause following 3 cherry cokes with 2 cans of Starbucks blow in a can, I mean iced coffee, is exceeding the reccommended daily dose of the jittery twitching racing stuff. Don't know if I'm too wired to think straight since I'm thinking too fast to go back and see what my last thought was.

anyway, end of year, time for year in review stuff. Teacher-Dad gives mis hijos homework to do over Christmas vacation, they love it, I swear. They answer questions, a poll if you will, what they did last year and what are their favorite moviebookshow etc etc... that damn H Potter has topped the charts for several years now... and also i have them look into the future, what they want to be when they grow up, that sort of thing. This is where we got the immortal, at least in our house, sorry it hasn't made it across the street yet, answer to what do you want to be when you grow up -- "1/2 Spiderman, 1/2 police dog, 1/2 cheetah" -- nevermind the math, gotta admire a man with goals. That was from #2 at the age of 3 or 4....

also saw one of you amazing bloggers (blog-ettes?) posted a letter written to herself 10 years ago. Cool. So I'll add that top the homework this year, bury it in the backyard as a timecapsule or something.

anyway, before I leap from "como jamon por que almorzar" to quadratic equations I stopped by to solicit ideas for the year in review slash look into the crystal ball.

oh, gotta go -- "1 new message"!!!!



...



(several hours later...)


ok, now I know what combination not to ingest... and yes, I believe the crispy jalapeno burger at Islands contributed to the debacle. Let's put it behind us, shall we?

As I was saying, I have the boys fill out a questionaire, to interview each other on what lies ahead in the future and to reflect on the past year. Being boys and being young, they focus on which toys, games, and books they liked and which toys, games, and books they want to get. Their speculation on future careers has much in common with their most recent Halloween costume, the holiday being fairly close to Year in Review, so I'm sure the answers this time around will be International Spy and Spiderman (does either profession provide health benefits?) -- #1 will write "gamer" as he has done for several years now, which leads me to accidentally lose his GameBoy for a few months. Ah, family traditions....

We do this every year, but by Jan. 4th every year I can't find them, so it really won't be a hell of a lot of fun in two decades time trying to remember what they wrote. But this year was/is different, seeing as TMW&BWITW and I turned 40 and celebrated our 10th anniversary -- nice round numbers, worthy of commemorating. I want something written down on nice paper, maybe that crinkly parchment stuff, and stored away in a safe place so that in another 10 year's time my Bro can call The Wife and her new husband and remind her to pull out the 2006 time capsule. She can gather the family around the hearth, or the kitchen table, or the bar at Jimmy Love's. If my passing was peaceful and the insurance was kept up, maybe my urn will sit on the bar next to a cold Karl Straus. If my passing was more "piece-full" they may need to include The Wife's parole officer in the party guests. Either way, it might be interesting to see how we each saw the world, and saw our future in the world, ten long years ago. Hopefully the boys' penmanship has improved. (Then again, in 10 years all they will need to do is think and a laser will project from an eyebrow pore and print the words on... crap, what will replace paper in 2016?)

So if you have any ideas for topics or queries, regarding the past or the future, let me know so I can add them to the time capsule homework. Trust me, they love this stuff!









*by the way, my latte Queen, -- he said, and I said, "density"

Blast from the Past

Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to study throughout the night again

How could I have forgotten how much sheer joy final exams are? And whose bright idea was it to schedule them all for the same day? Do you know just how expensive Red Bull is?!?!?

Snow Patrol and J.J. Cale toss leftovers to Gomez*

(update)

It's a good habit to start: Songbird, Willie Nelson; That Was Me, Todd Snider; Picaresqueties, The Decemberists; We Were Born In a Flame, Sam Roberts; The Departed soundtrack; and The Animal Years, Josh Ritter.

and always open to suggestions....

...

The layer of dust on my CD's is getting thicker. I'm thinking of using them to tile the den or as wallpaper in the boys' room... coasters, anyone?

At the risk of echoing previous generational rants ("damn that Top 40 radio!" "who wants my MTV?" "kids these days..."), I do feel the need to decry the loss of status in my life and in my listening habits of the good ol' fashioned "album" -- has anybody listened to Exile on Mainstreet, 14 Shots to the Dome, or even M!ssundaztood lately? I don't think I've listened to more than two tracks in a row from the same artist unless I accidentally clicked off the random button. I listen more in themes now, my moods are playlists to be dialed and selected for the appropriate soundtrack. I listen in singles, buying tracks selected from Napster or iTunes, so while I have broadened my variety and purchased more artists than before, the last packaged cd in its jewel case I picked up at Target may have been... STP's Thank You? Los Lobos The Ride?

Financial considerations play a part, of course. Would you rather have the variety pack of 8 different flavors or pay the same price for a box that's all oatmeal raisin, and you only like the first one, and half of the third, before you get bored and toss the box to the back of the pantry? I listen to Pandora or Paste Radio, and I'll download anything you recommend on Napster, then make my selections as to how I'll spend my hard-earned 99¢ (...ok, TMW&BWITW's 99¢, but she wouldn't want me to spend it frivolously). This means if I want to listen to show tunes, not that there's anything wrong with that, I can do my best Gene Kelly impersonation without buying discs filled with Ethel Merman and Mandy Patinkin, and if someone gives Gorillaz or Bo Bice two thumbs up I can listen, hit "next track" many times, and quickly, then never subject my ears to it again.


But the last complete disc, "LP album" for you history majors, I listened to front to back, track by track, was an honorary listen, an aural celebration for the 30th anniversary of Born to Run.

I started this spiel to lament the passing of the album-listening experience in my life. Albums used to be a cohesive whole, tracks would relate to each other, feed off one another, lead the listener along the width of the disc, be it black and vinyl or shiny silver. There was a beginning, the first song or even an intro or prelude, and there was a last song, sometimes a hidden untitled track to reward patient listeners who took a second or two after the last note to savor the moment instead of rushing to change discs.

I don't know about you, but I sort of miss the days of eagerly anticipating the day a new album was released, or being able to pick up the missing disc in an artist's collection. I remember the debates of the early CD era, when there was sometimes a difficult decision to be made on how to spend that hard-earned 17.99+TX -- on the new Pearl Jam or a classic Pink Floyd? Get the new Poison or Bobby Brown, or replace the all-time favorites from the record collection? And was The Wall worthy of a CD, or would Dark Side... be enough? C'mon now, Picnic-'n-Chicken didn't pay enough to get both. Now I just buy songs, both old and new, some to play just once or to entertain/educate my boys, some beacause they're the newest from my favorites and I don't want to go to Wal Mart and spend all my allowance on a couple of discs. I like hearing new artists I never would pick up on a disc, until they were on sale or through Columbia House 15 months later, and I like being able to get a few new songs to mix into the "taco night" playlist when we, well, on nights we have tacos. I guess I need to designate an "album night" and listen to a few complete productions, turn the shuffle button off and appreciate the original track listing.

Tunnel of Love, Abbey Road, Damn the Torpedos, Diamonds & Dirt, The Score, Hollywood Town Hall, Late Registration, New Miserable Experience, Rubber Soul, Pablo Honey, Silk Degrees, Storms of Life... any suggestions? I'd better get listenin'....

...


Ah, I feel better already. Less fractured, distracted, busy. Listened to every track, one right after the other, on the same album from the same artist! It's almost like having a conversation with someone, sitting down on the couch without a lot of interuptions and distractions, instead of working the room at a party. So I feel like I've had a beer and chatted it up with John Legend, Once Again, J.J. Cale and Eric Clapton, The Road to Escondido, and Snow Patrol, Eyes Open.


...

*actually they ain't half bad, in a quirky poeticly poppy way (Champagne for Monkeys!). thanks for the intro, 2x4!

"hence the title"

"Inspired" because I felt I could/should/want to be a teacher. Like wise Shrek and his onion, the reasons are many and do include, in all honesty, not working during the summer months and on Christmas Eve.

The "outta my %#$@*&!# mind" is a room full of loud, goofy, wiggling 4th graders all doing 10 different loud goofy things to not look at or listen to the tall nervous Dad standing at the front of the classroom. While my classmates, experienced aides and tutors etc., talk each week of the students they are involved with or the discussions they had with teachers, I try to work in a "once, on a field trip..." but usually, meekly, just bite my lip in anxiety and dread.

But today, drumroll please, I taught my first class. In a classroom. Full of kids. The loud goofy wiggling ones I think I mentioned. Ok, it was only for 20 minutes. And it was only art* -- angled lines and circles slightly resembling a plastic bottle, quickly deteriorating into abstract doodles or fish. But it was my first kinda teacher-like thing. I lived. It was cool.

Then the teacher had me haul some books and unpack boxes.

Gotta start somewhere.




*"only art" is a term of endearment, my future sister-in-law.

Satan Claus?

http://wikidumper.blogspot.com/


makes you change what you want to ask him for, doesn't it?

Reading List

Sister Wendy's 1000 Masterpieces
Naked Lunch, William S. Burroughs
Beside Still Waters and Tuesday Morning Quarterback, both by Gregg Easterbrook
...faith and football, this man knows what's Holy
Fried Twinkies, Buckle Bunnies, & Bull Riders Josh Peters

and for the ears:

Joe Henry, Kindness of the World
Neil Finn, One All

You livia in Bolivia?

I have to do a report on Bolivia -- all I know of the country is "Bolivian marching powder" from Bright Lights, Big City, and it's where Butch and Sundance tried to retire in peace... and from what I've read so far, they have a revolt or a coup, sometimes both, every 6 months.

And now I've learned to never trust the Spanish translations on Wikipedia (or prob. any other site as well) -- glad I noticed the slightly out of context mention of a certain nightmare-inducing children's television character before I stood up in class for the oral presentation:

...al aquivocarse mando al libertador a caballo hasta asia, el cual aprovecho y libero tal pais de los teletubbies. cuando volvio, aplico las mismas estrategias para liberar...

Now I may be wrong, por que yo no se most of the other words either, but I think someone's messin' with my head, and my grade.

Thankful

I'm thankful for the fact that there is no limit on using the post title "Thankful"...

I am thankful, and guilty and still quite extended and swollen, for all the fantastic food I ate today. I am thankful for Fat Tire Ale and Starbucks coffee.

I am thankful I do not, for the first time in over 20 years, have to work tomorrow! "Black Friday" my ass, for me it's going to be sunny and warm and stay as far away from a shopping mall as possible Friday. I don't want to even hear the sound of a cash register or hear the words earlybird, coupon, or did you beat goal yet???? And in retail reality, if that's not some sort of oxymoron, after the sheer madness of the 5am shoppers it's not the busiest of days; the last two weekends before X-mas are usually much more intense and packed and endless. So I am thankful for TMW&BWITW* who lets me do her dishes and laundry and fix her leftover turkey sandwiches instead of earning a paycheck folding 70,000 sweaters this holiday season. Of course she'll be getting painted macaroni noodle jewelry for Christmas this year, but we all had to make some sacrifices.

I am thankful for my family, especially #3 who entertained us with "guess what animal I am" charades for hours, working his way through the entire ark until even he had no idea whether he was imitating a tiger or koala or walrus, they had all started to act and growl the same so he would just say "yes!" to whatever we guessed. And for my Grandmother, soon to be 85, who invited us all to drop in and visit her in Denver, even though she lives here. Guess she didn't like the pie.




* The Most Wonderful & Beautiful Wife in the World would like to be addressed as "Sugar Momma" from now on.

not what you think...

title reminds me of a movie I saw once, but it's actually an extremely entertaining blog I feel, in my heart of hearts, you should go read right now.


http://boobsinjuriesanddrpepper.blogspot.com/


right.
now.


go.

Post-it note salad. Extra croutons.

My muse must be a stock car driver on her days off. Flashes of brilliant ideas come to me while I am driving on the freeway, changing lanes and radio stations, telling the kids to stop throwing things, and groping for the pen and notepaper I keep for when the sparks of creativity find me. My most creative writing is dangerous and illegible writing, words and phrases written at 70 mph, jotted down quickly on sticky yellow squares of paper, the pad balanced on the dashboard, coffee cup lid, or my right knee. I need to write immediately when the inspiration hits, or it will be forgotten forever, but in the fervor of the moment I usually neglect to write neatly or to bother with spelling. Many a brilliant idea, the novel to rival Hemmingway or the analytical thesis worthy of a doctorate, is beyond comprehension when I return safely home, sit down at my desk, and attempt to read the scribbled words.

This is where the outlines and rough drafts have their start, the words and phrases written on grocery lists, envelopes, and PTA bulletins. When an idea comes to me, I do not want it to escape into the clutter and chaos that abounds in a life with three boys, I need to try to capture it, hold it until I can get home and unwrap it in the quiet of the house after bedtime. Only then can I empty my pockets and re-read the frantic penmanship and attempt to decipher the fragmented clues I have left myself. Tossed like a salad of post-it® notes, receipts and scrap papers, some of my notes make no sense at all, but other times I find the phrase I need to start a new paper or to summarize an assignment. In constantly channeling these ideas from my mind to the paper the writing process is kept fresh and immediate, so the writings I am working on are not allowed to lie stagnant in the back of my mind, waiting for a calm moment when I can sit at the desk and begin an outline.

I enjoy writing. I enjoy writing fiction, love letters, e-mails to friends, journals, comments and critiques no one asked for on their blog, and I even enjoy writing reports and essays for school. I most often write when the house is quiet, while everyone is away at school or work, or I write at night, after the boys are snoring and the wife is comfortable on the couch. Sometimes there is music playing, but only as a spark for creative writing, to set or jump-start a mood. Marvin Gaye, Barry White, the sultry Alicia Keys not only work when trying to set the move and get the groove, but also help the ink flow smooth when writing a note for her pillow. Goofing around in the blogosphere? Mash some Van Morrison, Dylan, Frank Black, Beck, James McMurtry, the inspiration of a genius lyric to spark the creativity. For NaNoWriMo it had to be RHC Peppers and Foo Fighters, quick and thumping, driving out as many words as possible, even if they didn't always make sense

For academic writing I need total silence to facilitate focus. I am easily distracted, and for all the benefits of Microsoft Word there are the temptations of too many buttons available on the computer. I will look for any excuse to go on the web and look something up, justifying my site surfing as research for the essay, when in reality it may take hours before I steer myself away from that damn "Next Blog" button and back to the assignment. I am also distracted and diverted from completing my writing assignments by my inability to end a sentence, either by refusing to use a punctuation mark other than a comma, or by revising and reworking, then rereading and rewriting again, each sentence. People have told me I can write well, and for the most part I enjoy what I have written, but there is always a nagging sense of inadequacy, a suspicion of whether I have put forth my best effort. Often my writing is too spontaneous, and while I can go back and read a finished assignment or an effort of creative writing and appreciate some sentences or phrases that began as brainstorming on the road to pick up the kids and have been developed into good solid examples of my writing ability, I can also see the lines or paragraphs where I did not pay much attention and towards the end simply lost interest, leading to poor abrupt en

A spike!

Crossed that 6000 word barrier on NaNoWriMo, so I'm only a little over 10,000 words, or 6 days, behind the recommended pace... oops, it's after midnight, make that 7 days off target. Oh well. I use some big words, multisyllabic and their ilk, so that should count for more words.

What were you doing....

10 years ago today?

You were watching Jordan lead the Bulls, Aikmen and the Cowboys, and wondering if the Yankees could get back to the World Series in the next few years... you probably went to see Fargo or Jerry Maguire, heard Seal's Kiss From a Rose for the first of 6 million times, and wondered if Tupac had recorded anything new before he was shot... you wondered if Tyson vs. Holyfield would be exciting, and you cast a vote for President Clinton, wishing him a smooth, uneventful second term.

For some reason I don't remember any of that stuff, because ten years ago today I was nervous, excited, so happy my cheeks hurt, and walking down the aisle of the Graceland Wedding Chapel to marry The Most Wonderful and Beautiful Woman in The World... and while we had planned, 10 years, 2 kids, and a mortgage ago to spend this glorious anniversary celebrating among the lights of Paris, I hope she knows how blessed and lucky and privileged I feel to be her husband, and to be able to tell her Happy Anniversary no matter where in the world we are.

http://www.gracelandchapel.com/index.html

http://www.tour-eiffel.fr/teiffel/uk/

explore your influences

just an assignment I had to turn in, thought I'd share...

To find the genesis of my life long passion for reading and writing there is no need to look farther than my mother’s refrigerator where the alphabet, in magnetic letters of various colors and sizes, has always been stuck to the door. Over the past 40 years the height on the door of the jumbled letters has depended on the size of the child or grandchild most recently in the kitchen, where my mom has been working on spelling or reading or simply playing. While she did the dishes or made supper, we spelled our names or created words and pictures, all the while making the sounds of the alphabet or singing the ABC song. The alphabet was not just a means to occupy our attention, words and language was part learning and part fun, it was something we could do together with our mother, it was time and an experience shared.

Further evidence of Mom’s influence and impact on my enjoyment of the language arts is on my sons’ overstuffed bookshelves, where three generations of treasured children’s stories are stacked and stuffed, well used and much beloved. There are inscriptions written inside many of the covers, in books that had been given as gifts over the years on holidays and special occasions, from “to Candy, 1945” to “for Joel, Christmas 1968” to “happy birthday Jace, 2005.” My mother always read stories to us, and most of the first books were ones her mother had saved from when Mom was a little girl. She read us those and we continued to add new works to the collection, many sent from my Grandmother. Recently I opened a box from my parent’s garage that had been sealed and stored for at least 25 years, and sorted through the books making piles for my siblings and our children, and I was impressed at how many very memorable books had been chosen for us by my grandparents. I should not have been surprised, since someone had to instill in my mother a love for reading so she could pass it on to her children, but I had not realized where this family tradition, the hereditary love for books had begun. I recently thanked my Grandmother for her good taste in gifts, and for the love of reading and appreciation for quality books she helped instill in me. I don’t remember ever discussing books with her, talking about what I liked to read, but having those books must have been a major influence. And not one of those books I received as a child and have now read to my children had been based on a movie or television cartoon, or had any type of fast-food kid's meal tie-in.

Reading and writing in school has also been a major influence, there are several experiences with positive encouragement regarding my language development that helped me to enjoy language assignments. In 2nd grade my teacher held up my creative writing project for the entire class to see, saying she was proud of my good work. I don’t know how good the story could have been, since the paper was the type with the top half blank for illustrating the action of the story, and the bottom half for writing consisted of three lines over an inch wide for our gigantic grade school printing skills, which does not leave much room for plot or character development. In the 8th grade our English class had a writing assignment due every week, fiction or non-fiction was our choice, but no matter how good the story was, grammatical errors resulted in a failing grade. I received several large red F’s on the front page, but also earned comments like “are you going to be a writer some day?” This encouraged me to read and write as much as I could, I wanted to read and get ideas for my own stories, and I wanted to write the stories so well I would continue to impress my teacher.

I have continued to read as an adult, sharing and discussing new finds and favorites with my family as we pass along recommended reading to each other and spend a lot of gift money at the bookstores. Most of my writing over the past twenty years has consisted of Christmas cards, love letters, and performance evaluations at work, until I returned to school a few years ago and was re-introduced to essays and written exams. My brother has also been a great influence in my return to creative writing, as he began an online "blog" ( http://twobuyfour.blogspot.com/ ) to keep his friends and family, now spread out across the states, updated on the adventures of his family’s life and also to share some of his creative writings. Yes, his talent impressed me, but sibling rivalry mandates I must try to get more attention than my brother, so I have also began writing more, attempting to rekindle the creative spark I had when younger. So far I've succeeded in only producing a lot of smoke, but it's more in the effort and exercise, appreciating the process of putting words from inside my head down on paper (so to speak). There is also the strange sense of community when someone reads your words, even if they read from far away exotic locations like India or Canada, and a sense of connection when they share their own writing.

Returning to the roots of a life long passion for reading and writing is exponentially rewarding when you have children of your own to share the experiences. My sons were as excited as I was to open the box of old children’s books, and we had to stop ourselves from reading them all the first afternoon we took them home. It is with great joy that I read to my children before bed, or that they beg to stay up a little later to finish a chapter. Having passed the torch on to the next generation is a reason to be proud but also a challenge to myself, I cannot slack in my own reading, I need to be ready with recommendations and be able to discuss as they grow as readers and writers. I hope to echo the positive influences in my life into their experiences with the language arts, and to help create an impact that will last them a lifetime.