The Dunce Cap Marvel

Foxy Lady

2008-12-02T23:34:00.004-05:00

I started running regularly again about 2 weeks ago (although I didn't get much done during Thanksgiving week). And don't bother to ask: it's beyond me why I waited until the onset of winter and temps in the 20's to start an exercise regimen. Guess the masochist in me loves running in the freezing rain. Luckily, I've had my own personal cheerleader to urge me on most nights. She usually meets me at the halfway mark on my way back from the Willows. She's gorgeous, a red-head, a little shy, and is only ever dressed in a fancy fur coat. I only know her as Miss Elisabeth.

I swear, I don't think I've seen an actual, real-life fox in person but a couple of times in my life. Honestly, two or three times at most. They are one of the most elusive, people-wary creatures I've ever known of. But this lovely lady is out there for me almost every night. I don't know if she lives on Salem Neck permanently or is just temporarily hanging 'round but I've definitely loved heading out every night in anticipation of seeing her. Sometimes she'll run out of the brush and trot across the road ahead of me or I'll catch her lurking on the edge of somebody's front yard, dancing in and out of the glow of the streetlamps. One time she ran out not ten yards in front of me, jumped up on the chest-high stone wall outside of the Marine Biology center, and glanced back to make eye-contact for just the briefest of instants before the grey-white tip of tail disappeared over the other side. It's definitely nice to have that extra little motivation to get out and log a couple of miles every night. Just hope she sticks around for awhile.

Meeting of minds

2008-11-10T22:18:00.006-05:00

Oh, how I would have loved to be a fly on the wall of the Oval Office today.

Who can even begin to imagine what they discussed, what matters of grave importance and what trivialities were brought up in that room during that hour when they were alone? Has there ever been a meeting between two American Presidents -- one outgoing and one incoming -- that encapsulated so much, that sat perched on that most perfect precipitous acme of history? Sitting here, briefly thinking now I admit that I can think of none other.

These are the sort of iconic images and events in human chronology that speak to the historian in me. These two men represent two absolute watershed moments in our American saga like few other. But not only they themselves but the way they and their ideologies clash and run up against each other like a mad herd of berserker Tectonic plates. One man's importance and global after-effect felt all too well, and the other's only glimpsed at through a smoky prism -- both to not be fully realized for many many years. Two men with such conflicting guiding thoughts, differing personalities, and personal bearing -- yet they will for the rest of their lives be brothers in a shared experience even few former Presidents could ever understand. To share the greatest mantle of power in the history of our existence and bear the burden of working the hardest job while struggling to maintain a fractured, vulnerable, suicidal world. God bless them both.

YES!!!!!

2008-11-05T22:02:00.006-05:00

As if yesterday's big breakthrough wasn't enough -- here's more. After what seems a lifetime of waiting, the big moment has finally arrived (albeit a year late).......

........................BRANDON WON THE 2008 GOLD GLOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

People, you may not be all that familiar with him since the Reds have been so fucking bad the last couple of years and never get talked about, but I can honestly say that Brandon Phillips is a Top 5 defensive player in all of MLB. He pulls some kind of wicked play out of his pocket almost every night -- consistently Webgem worthy. The shame is that I personally think he had a better year last year but lost out to a guy who missed almost a third of the season. I'm glad he's getting recognized now though and he should have it on lock-down for a while. So congratulations to Brandon and I guess Barack too for breaking down long held prejudices and barriers and what-not.

You can vote however you like...but do it!

2008-11-04T08:41:00.006-05:00

Just got back from voting early this morning. Painless, nice and easy process. No long lines here in lil' ol' Ward 1. Other than a vote to repeal the state income tax it looked like a pretty liberal ballot after it was all said and done. More on that later I guess. Happy Election Day people! Get out and vote early and often...

Best, you've got to be the best
You've got to change the world
And use this chance to be heard
Your time is now
Change everything you are
And everything you were
Your number has been
called

D-Day '08

2008-10-31T10:45:00.004-04:00

Good morning! Well, the big day is finally here: Hallowe'en, All Hallow's Eve, a night for ghost and goblins and ghoulish revelers from all over the world to descend on our fine little hamlet of Salem, est. 1629. This has been a pretty crazy and crowded month, although I think the numbers are down a little bit from last year because of the economy. Still, Hallowe'en falling on a Friday will guarantee quite a lot of people downtown tonight. Hopefully the police can keep everyone moving and keep the ruckus to a minimum and we don't have any stabbings or shootings like the past 2 years. When I woke up I actually saw a story headline on Yahoo! about a Massachusetts town named Oxford actually postponing Hallowe'en and Trick or Treating until Saturday night because of traffic concerns. Well we have a ton of traffic concerns as well, but I can definitely say that the Salem City Council and mayor would have a riot on their hands if they tried to pull that stunt here. No Hallowe'en cancellations here.

I actually took today off so I could enjoy the madness in full. This should end up being a great weekend with Hallowe'en and the Biggest Outdoor Cocktail (oops, I said it Dr. Adams) Party in the World tomorrow. I do believe the Dawgs are fired up to smash Florida's face in.

After tonight, another long winter offseason of quiet and nothing happening. Most of the leaves are starting to fall (it was an exceptionally beautiful colourful fall this year) and most of the crowds will soon be joining them. After tomorrow, no more tourists, no more street performers, no more ferries and express trains to Boston, no more Thing #1s with full beards dancing down Hawthorne St. giving everyone high-fives, no more costumed bikers with demons hanging off the backs of bikes and bloody limbs hanging out of saddlebags, no more dumb picture-taking sessions of the Bunghole liquor store or the Nick-at-Nite statue, no more town criers or historical re-inactments, no more haunted houses except for the ones that are ACTUALLY haunted, no more carnies infesting the Common or the vacant lot on Derby, no more legions of tour buses parked in front of my house to let off seniors and schoolchildren to clog my neighborhood, no more bedraggled store owners and bartenders and waitresses, no more witches hats and robes -- or at least not quite so many. After tonight we'll close it up and shut it down to wait through the winter until next April.

Au revoir dear readers....enjoy your revels tonight and if you should see Dorian Gray slinking by, be sure to tell me "hello."

I went out for trash bags

2008-10-17T00:44:00.006-04:00

I stopped at the Pig's Eye for a beer or two on my way home tonight and that pretty much evolved into a completely different experience than I was expecting. I sat down at the end of the inverted short end of the "L" bar, my typical seat, and ordered an IPA, perfectly set to listen to a few live Jethro Tull songs and drink a couple brewskis. The girl next to me started talking to me, a tourist from Virginia visiting friends. Name of Ricky. Perfectly feminine name I told her.

In the first 15 minutes I was there she told me she thought I was stuck-up, introverted, and that she had no intention of sleeping with me, but that she had no idea why I wouldn't talk to her. All without being asked mind you. I was offended (rightly) and left her to her girlfriends. A while later we started conversation again, as one Southerner to another. When I told her I was from the Atlanta area, she immediately responded, "But you're white!" I was immediately offended, which I think was a correct and good response. I took her to task for her insults and thought that was that.

But still, she kept at it and we started talking the night away. She came across as very insular and unexposed to anything outside of Richmond, Virginina, which she herself admitted. She was drinking wine (and seemed to have been for some time) and I was drinking PBRs. Before long she was resting her hand on my leg and getting close. Let me first mention that this girl was in fact 35. She wasn't hot by any means but she certainly wasn't unattractive and became more appealing as the night and the drinks progressed.

Eventually, after a bit of flirting (mostly by her) and such, she abandoned any conservative approach she had previously adopted and pretty much was all over me. She told me she hadn't been laid in more than a year due to a personal goal after a bad break-up. I commended her. She said that I didn't understand what she was going through. I assured her that I most certainly understood her plight and respected her position. She informed me that even though she thought I was too cynical and aloof, that I was hot and she wanted me to help her have a good vacation. If I remember correctly, she used phrases like "do things you've never imagined", "been waiting for a guy like you for months", and "12 or 13 hours."

My response was to politely beat around the bush and brush off this incredibly hard-to-brush-off attention. After all, in the past 6 months of match.com I've emailed roughly 50 girls and received emails from 2. I need all the attention I can get. I'm fucking drowning here. Eventually, she got the message and started a weird, philosophical, spiritual discussion about how I wasn't seizing my full potential and that I would be ready within 3 years to the day. I could tell she was extremely disappointed and unhappy with my nondecision. Gosh, if I could share with you the things she was saying to me. She started to unbutton my shirt right there in the bar!

Is there something wrong with me? Am I defective? How can a 26-year old loser whine so much about how he gets so little action or oppurtunity and then turn it away when it is sitting on the doorstep? Did I do the right thing? I mean, she was drunk, she was initially very insulting, and possibly very racist. She told me in no uncertain terms that she simply wanted me to fuck her, be completely emotionally unattached, and never see her again after tonight. That's like every male Homo sapiens dream right? I mean of all the Devens and Gabbys and nameless bar chicks I come across I always find a reason not to hook up with them. Am I being a good, moral, responsible person? Or am I simply just a huge pussy? I honestly don't know...all I know is that I am hating myself now and that I would have hated myself tomorrow morning if I had gone for it. It's all very hopeless and extremely despressing.

Morning After Update:
Waking up this morning, my thought was that I was completely right. I'm only disappointed in myself for not getting up and walking out after she made that racist comment about Atlanta. That woman was drunk, ignorant, and vulgar. Not only did she at multiple points pick up my beer and start drinking out of my glass, but she even gave it to her 52-year old Gorgon of a friend to let her drink through her nose. And then she got offended when I refused to take my beer back. I'm thankful I came out of that experience with only the $30 bar tab she left me after she someone skeezed her party's drinks on my bill. I'm embarrassed I put up with her as long as I did. No more tourists. Moving on.

THANKFULLY NOT ME

3 Little Pigs blew the freakin' door down

2008-10-08T20:14:00.003-04:00

You know it's October in Salem when the tourists begin dictating the hours of operation to local business owners. I was sitting on a bench downtown eating some delicious frozen custard when three little girls and their father came strolling by. When I say "little" I'm referring to young in years, as these were three of the fattest children I have ever seen. They were decked out in costume (who isn't these days?) and felt witch and Mad Hatter hats and being incessant little whiny brats. They pass by the Salem Trolley HQ and gift shop and they must have seen something shiny in the window because they all rush the glass and press up against the door. The shopkeeper -- clearly in the middle of closing down for the night -- shouts thru the glass that clearly she is in the middle of closing down for the night. The obvious reaction for these pigs is to start banging on the door with both fists and yelling at the top of their lungs. Their father is either unwilling or incapable and doesn't do much to stop or reprimand them. The woman ends up opening the door to tell them to go away basically. Big mistake.

Two of the bloated shoats bum-rush the lady in mid-sentence and shove their way past into the store as she shakes her head and says to herself, "or you can come in," in a defeated and exasperated tone as she holds the door open for the remaining piglet and Dickless Dad. Watching this all unfold 10 yards away from me left me 10% amused and 90% appalled. I stuck around for another five minutes finishing my dessert without seeing them leave. As far as I know they are still there bugging the fuck out of that lady as of this writing. What a horrid world we live in to birth such horrid brutes. Maybe the Chinese have it right after all. Unfortunately, more of this type of behavior will probably be seen in the coming weeks ahead. Easily the best/worst month to be in Salem.

Inconsolable

2008-09-28T23:07:00.002-04:00

I think I am still in denial. It's hard to accept that I actually watched it happen, powerless to do anything to prevent the embarrassment. Which means I was pretty much in the same boat as the 22 guys on the field. The repercussions of this game will be felt for a long time. ESPN already hated us as it was, but now? Last year's post-game headline was "Richtenstein Invades Sabanation." This year Athens got overrun by a fucking blitzkrieg that no one was prepared for. Will I ever in my life be rewarded by a sports team that doesn't routinely disappoint me at a crucial moment?

Apple owns me

2008-09-11T22:14:00.002-04:00

Steve Jobs is laughing at me right now I'm sure. I bought a nano 5 months ago, although I've always had my reservations about the pod devices and the company at large. When I mentioned to the sales-groupie (who looked like an effeminate Nate Torrence (the Geico/Capital One guy) who himself looks like a bulky Nick Swardson, who is himself effeminate -- weird how that works) that I didn't like Apple products he got all offended and went into a Jobs disciple diatribe that they probably make you memorize on your first day. Knowing that the pods go obsolete with the announcement of new models pretty quickly I asked him if there was anything brewing on the horizon. He gave me a smarmy reply, I gave him $200, and I walked out of the store with this huge ubiquitous bag balled up in my fist to hide my shame.

I've been mostly happy with the nano other than the fact that it's been an absolute piece of crap. The thing schitzed out on me the first day I had it and continues to do so on a semi-regular basis. It won't play any media, freezes until the battery runs out, and then requires you to reset the software. Half of the time it won't sync up to the damn Itunes correctly. But I've mostly enjoyed having a pocket of songs and NPR podcasts (!) so I deal.

It did it again today so I went by the store to see about switching it out to another one that maybe isn't so retarded. However, now I see that there are new nanos that still cost $200 but now feature twice as much memory. This troubles me since I originally wanted about 15-20 GB but hated to do something incredibly bozo like buy some wicked expensive ITouch or huge IPod storage device for too much cost or too much space I would never use. Not to mention that I like the look of my current nano, and they've now gone back to the original tall skinny ugly thing. So I know I'm most likely going to end up either trading in my current one or give it to my sister and spending another $200 to line an egomaniac's pocket for a product that I'm not sure I even like and will most likely be replaced this time next year when they go back to the short model I prefer but with 25 GBs. Other than Pixar, I've despised Apple for so long because I had figured out their racket, and now in the space of about 6 months I've not only broken down and bought one of their portable music devices, but now I'm actually considering buying another. I feel like Damocles.

Big Bang or bust

2008-09-09T23:19:00.004-04:00

Well, I guess in about an hour some nutjobs in Switzerland are going to attempt to recreate the Big Bang. Hey, wait a minute, doesn't that sound like a dumb idea? I certainly think so. I'm not a physicist, so I don't know if this huge particle collider machine can create black holes or melt reality or what, but I sure don't see the logic in attempting to re-enact something that only -- wait for it -- CREATED THE UNIVERSE. And for what purpose? So some snobby MIT scientists can prove their theories correct and stroke their egos?

Supposedly it's safe and I'm just some medieval Luddite afraid to come out of his cave into the light, but when I read one of the chief physicists working on the project say --

"You're talking about such incredible power inside both the accelerator and detectors that you never really know until you turn it all on what's going to happen."

-- I tend to worry just a tad. And if the LHC can possibly uncover new discoveries that contradict current theories, couldn't one of those discoveries be that it actually CAN destroy the known universe? But I guess these are the same guys who weren't sure if the atomic bomb would incinerate the atmosphere and still ended up pushing the button just to see "what would happen." I mean, sometimes I find myself wishing the world would end, but I didn't think anyone would actually attempt it. If science is so positive there is no god, then why the need for Man to be Him?

Grace rides again

2008-08-24T18:55:00.003-04:00

We're up-to-date, official, and entirely legal. There was no work on Friday thanks to the company summer party (God, whatever else it's been, this has been the summer of the 4-day work week), so I took Grace to get inspected. This week was the long-awaited final switch-over to Mass. registration and plates. My truck and I are now completely titled, taxed, and registered in Massachusetts. No vestiges of my Georgia residency now remain. Props to the state of GA for allowing me to remotely register a vehicle in their state that has not been there for the past two years. But I figured that was long enough to be riding dirty, so I got everything taken care of this past week. Everything went pretty painless and I was pleasantly surprised to find out that my insurance didn't go up but a few dollars. I was a little worried that this was going to be the point where my insurance noticed that little incident 3 years ago and decided to gouge me, but I am apparently the man of the phantom DUI. All in all, it was a nice weight off my shoulders and it felt good being called Mr. Dunce Cap Marvel by insurance agents and government employees and being all grown-up and responsible and shit.

Yesterday, I took Grace out for the afternoon just like the old days. Haven't done much pleasure driving for a long while with gas and all, but we had an enjoyable few hours out tooling around Essex County. We took the country roads up to Newburyport and took in a very scenic drive through little Massachusetts villages and farms. It's really wild how close you can be to some of the bigger towns and highways and -- relatively speaking -- Boston, and yet be driving through some very rural areas tucked away and looking very much like the countryside from Shawshank.

We made it over to Plum Island and discovered some really nice beaches that I'll have to check out again. Also saw some great farm stands (hot, buttered sweet corn...mmmm) and some nice cemeteries that I made mental notes of. It was just nice and very relaxing to be able to take a scenic drive, listen to folk music on NPR, and not have to worry about anything like money, health problems, or juggling future travel destinations for the next month. It was a far sight from two months ago, when I thought Grace was tot to the extreme.

I had jumped in one afternoon after leaving work to go catch a train to catch a plane to Minnesota and she basically blew up in my face. The engine wouldn't turn over and everything electrical in the vehicle turned into a carnival funhouse from some B-rated horror movie. Auto locks going up and down, radio turning on to blare for a couple of seconds before shutting off again, dome light on, and chime ringing incessantly in my panicked brain. The ignition tried to eat my key and it took me valuable minutes to finally wrench it loose. I left Grace there in agony, unable to do anything for her, and still almost missing my train. It turned out to be a very expensive battery replacement, but I got her back from the dead. And now her we are: papers all in order and finally legal residents of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. It's good to be home.

I have a bad feeling about this...

2008-08-11T21:30:00.002-04:00

THE REDS
Hey -- let's trade our longest tenured player and face of the franchise for next to nothing and then turn around 12 days later and give away our most productive hitter and baseball's current home run leader for damaged goods and a couple of scrubs to be named later. I really thought that after all of the posturing and positioning by the owner and GM that there would still be no way that they'd let Adam Dunn go after the season. They couldn't even wait that long. Two years ago this was a team that was in playoff contention until the last weekend of the season and now they look like the same bunch of idiots in the front office without much of a plan. Here's hoping BP, EE, Votto, and Bruce step up big time soon. Here's hoping the Reds make a play at Texeira. I don't know; kind of tough to follow the team right now when it looks like they still are a few years of everything going right before they contend.

THE DARK KNIGHT CAST
What's next? The movie's still raking and it's still unbelievably awesome, but I'm starting to think there is some sort of pall or curse over it all. Heath Ledger winds up dead in suspicious circumstances, Christian Bale is arrested for who knows what exactly, and now Morgan Freeman gets royally banged up in a car wreck with questions swirling around his "friend." And hey, Ledger's death back in the news with half of the Olsen twins being subpoenaed over it. What new drama/scandal can we expect next? I have legitimate concern for Chris Nolan's safety.

RUSSIA V. GEORGIA FOR ALL THE MEDALS
Seriously, all this nonsense over South Ossetia really bothers me. I think everybody needs to forget all about the Olympics and concentrate on this one. This has way too many possibilities of going really wrong and getting much much worse than it currently is. How far is Russia willing to take it? What response can the West really make and what kind of dangerous dangerous precedents will be set if we do nothing or the wrong resolution is made? As a social scientist and historian this is such an intriguing situation to me, but it could go real bad real fast I feel. Historical eras have ended and powers destroyed over much smaller world events (see World War I). Recently reading Watchmen doesn't help ease any old Cold War fears either.

World v. The Incredible Sulk

2008-07-28T20:58:00.006-04:00

Watch out world! Post-Dark Knight euphoria is good and gone and I'm a misanthropic, hateful bastard again.

Fuck no more At the Movies with Ebert & Roeper.
Fuck Stan Winston dying.
Fuck Christian Bale getting arrested.
Fuck Jr. Griffey acting like an idiot during the game.
Fuck some douchebag named McG and his whole stupid cast trying to convince me I need to see another stupid Terminator movie.
Fuck Christian Bale for that too. And fuck Empire of the Sun! I fucking hated that movie; it was stupid. I admit it!
Fuck Blink-182 for being so whiny.
Fuck Watchmen was good.
Fuck being stuck on page 300 of arguably the best novel I have ever read.
Fuck people for being pissed for stupid fucking reasons.
Fuck Mike Mussina and his bullshit 10.80 ERA against Baltimore.
Fuck the Reds if they don't sign Adam Dunn.
Fuck Netflix.
Fuck Newport, RI.
Fuck Superman.
Fuck me throwing tupperware around my kitchen like a fucking loser crybaby.
Fuck stupid UFO conspiracy theorists attacking Bill Nye.
Fuck Chris Carter. I Want To Believe X-Files is above cash-grabs.
Fuck people! Leave me alone about my dating life! (not you Thistle....)
Fuck feeling bad about someone getting married that I should have no reason to feel bad about.
Fuck this dumb blog. I'll most likely delete the whole thing tomorrow.
Fuck me.

Mind: Fucking Blown

2008-07-18T04:33:00.002-04:00

Tim Burton who? I like Burton and his films and his Batman a lot, but never in his wildest dreams could he come up with something like this. And the nipple-suit day-glo guy doesn't deserve to have his name mentioned within 100 paragraphs of Christopher Nolan's. Hyberbole is a dangerous thing. It creates unfair expectations that should never be set and could never be met. But the great thing about the words that will follow this sentence is that not one single word, not one single syllable will be simple glorified exaggeration. It's the motherfucking TRUTH.

Between everything going on this summer, all my trips, and all the other mega-huge films that came out, I somehow was able to let The Dark Knight slip into the back of my brain and be somewhat forgotten, hidden and waiting to be discovered after all of the noise and dust settled from the Indys, the crimson-gold power suits, the kid auteurs, the robots, and the ghosts of Yankee Stadium. Suddenly, it was July and this film was only two weeks away. Then this week flew, and then today, and then I was sitting in front of a blank screen in total awe at some ungodly hour of the morning. I had a Batman day. It was in the back of my thoughts all during work. I went out and got the Gotham Knight anime (not to be recommended) and skimmed over Begins one final time before I left for the theater. And then for two and a half hours, hopped up on two Red Bulls and a large Coke, I had one of the greatest film experiences I have ever had or probably will ever have in my life.

This was a fucking masterpiece. I read a review yesterday that compared this film to a Godfather II or an Empire Strikes Back, something to stand tall as an absolute pinnacle of genre film. At first I thought this absurb, but now I know better. This film will probably miss out on a lot of deserved Oscars (it will make a boatload of cash -- and when I say boatload, I'm thinking Titanic-sized) but it will be looked back on in years to come and people will ask why. The movie literally starts blue-blazing hot and it never, Never, NEVER lets up on the gas. Full throttle, hobnailed boot on your throat, pit-bull tearing at your jugular WON'T LET GO. Between the caffeine and the perpetual on-screen intensity I thought I was going to have a heart attack in the middle of the movie and be left wondering how it ended for eternity.

Chris Nolan gets it. The beauty of the character of Batman is that he can be interpreted in so many ways, but Nolan showed me that he understands the character and his Rogue's Gallery and his universe and his pathos the way I do. With all apologies to Bruce Timm, Paul Dini, Tim Sale, Jeph Loeb, Kevin Conroy, Mark Hamill, and many others this is probably the greatest portrayal of Batman in any medium since Frank Miller's The Dark Knight Returns. Batman does things in this movie and goes to limits that even surprised me. In every way imaginable he showed why he truly is the Dark Knight and why lesser characters throughout comics cannot hold the dimmest of candles to him. This was a taut, intelligent crime thriller with moral dilemma after moral dilemma. And by God, this was a true Batman detective story for once, in which he actually used his marvelous mind and did actual detective work rather than jump from fight scene to car chase to fight scene.

And what can be said about Heath Ledger's transcendent, timeless performance? Coupled with the tragedy of his death, this has sealed his legacy in cinema lore for all time. One of the all-time great film villains. He completely nailed everything the Joker is truly about and all he encompasses: pure, unfiltered agent of chaos and mayhem for no other reason than "why not?" At one point in the film the Joker explains the core nature of his and Batman's tug and pull relationship so completely and yet so concisely that I thought I would be knocked flat. The exact line, the situation, Ledger's deliverance, and Bale's reaction were absolute, complete, exact to the nth degree TRUTH.

I could and should spill countless words about Eckhart's performance as Dent and that character's flawless story arc and the relationship between him, Gordon, and Batman, but you really should just see the film for yourself. For as much as was in this film, I never got the feeling that it was too crammed or too constrained by all of the many storylines and characters. Everyone is important and everyone is honestly portrayed with expert, loving complexity and care. No one is safe and everyone is a target.

I had originally planned to see it for this screening and catch it on IMAX as well this weekend. Now I would say that two IMAX screenings and an additional Sunday matinee would be more on target, if not conservative. I want this movie to blow away any and all Spider-Mans, boat movies, and (can't believe I'm saying this) galactic war stories. I want this to be the biggest movie of all time. Run out and see this movie immediately. And then see it again. See it on your lunch break. Skip your doctor appointment and go see it. Let someone else pick up your kids from school. At whatever and all costs, go see this movie as soon as humanly possible. And if that showtime is sold out, patiently wait in line for the next one. Don't take small children because they could be scarred for life. Warners must have bribed the ratings board because I have no idea how this thing scored a PG-13.

No kidding aside, this could be one of the all-time great movies I will ever see in my lifetime. I stayed throughout the entire credits, all the way past that final MPAA stamp and Warner Bros. logo until the projector was turned off, just so I could watch and read all of the names of every person that assembled and contributed to make this film. From Nolan to Bale to Wally Pfister to the lowest gaffer and caterer: thank you from the bottom of my heart for this picture. And God bless you Heath Ledger. You certainly put a smile on my face.

ps. Watch out for that magic trick.

A damn good dog

2008-06-30T01:16:00.011-04:00

HE WAS SUCH A HAPPY DOG...
What a bad week for UGA. First the baseball team loses it in the finals of the World Series and now Bulldawg Nation has lost its Top Dog. I got a text on Saturday afternoon that Uga VI had died. How sad and a bad way to gear up for one of the biggest hyped Georgia football seasons in years (even though LSU's tiger dying last season seemed to do wonders for them). Uga VI was the only Uga I've ever known as a fan and student and alumnus. It'll be a weird feeling not seeing him on the sidelines this season, much like the loss of Pope John Paul II or the first non-Bush/Clinton presidency in 20 years. My best memory will be of last year's Auburn game, when he came out of the tunnel with the team, dressed in that little black sweater to match the team. All that game he was more active and energized than normal. You could just tell he could realize something special was happening in the stadium that night and he was feeding off it. I loved it.

It's funny...recently ESPN did a spotlight called Faces of the Program and UGA's options were Vince Dooley, Herschel, and Uga. At first I thought to myself that it had to be Herschel: greatest UGA player ever, changed the game, should have been the first freshman Heisman-winner, yada yada yada. But this gut-check makes it obvious now. It's got to be Uga. Sure there are a ton of Herschel-monikered bulldogs strutting around Athens, but they're all Old English all-white bulldogs -- just like Uga. Players and coaches come and go, but Ugas are always there. Cheers to the winningest bulldog in UGA history, the only mascot to be featured on the cover of SI, and the most recognized (and loved) college mascot in the world. We'll miss you buddy.

From UGA's website:

Uga VI, the winningest mascot in the University of Georgia’s history, died on Friday evening from congestive heart failure in his hometown of Savannah, Ga., owner Frank W. “Sonny” Seiler announced.

“He was a good one,” Seiler said. “What can I say? He had a marvelous record. He was a very strong and healthy dog. He was the biggest of all the dogs, and he had the biggest heart. It just played out.”

Seiler noticed Uga VI was breathing heavily shortly after arriving home from work on Friday evening. He was taken to Dr. Stanley Lester, the family’s veterinarian, who consulted with Dr. Bruce Hollett at the University of Georgia’s College of Veterinary Medicine before Uga VI passed away.

“I noticed he had a little congestion in his throat, which usually is not cause for alarm,” Seiler said. “I gave him a bath, which he always loved, to cool him off. After that, I called Dr. Lester, whose office is about a four-minute drive from our house. His heart just played out. He suffered no pain and died peacefully.”

A successor to Uga VI will be announced by the Seilers and the Athletic Association at a later date; however, the Seilers stated that the lineage is secure.
Uga VI, who would have turned 10 on July 22, will be buried in a marble vault in the Southwest corner of Sanford Stadium with his predecessors. The private ceremonies are expected to be held early next week.

“This is a very sad day for the entire Bulldog Nation,” Director of Athletics Damon Evans said. “Uga has always been such a strong figure associated the University of Georgia nationwide. Uga VI was a damn good mascot and a damn good dog. He was an outstanding representative of our fine institution. While this is a sad day for all Bulldog fans, our condolences especially go out to the Seiler family.”

“UGA VI served with extraordinary courage and heart as a beloved University of Georgia mascot,” University of Georgia President Michael F. Adams said. “He was a true symbol of the toughness and competitiveness of our athletic teams, and was a rallying figure for the entire Bulldog Nation.We extend sympathy to the Seilers for the loss of a dear family pet and a great campus mascot who will be missed and remembered by UGA alumni and friends everywhere.”
The Georgia football teams compiled an 87-27 record during Uga VI’s tenure, which officially began in 1999 with pre-game ceremonies prior to the South Carolina game in Athens. The Bulldogs captured both the 2002 and 2005 SEC Championships and won six of eight bowl games over that span. Uga VI’s record surpassed the mark of 77-24-4 of Uga IV.

All of Georgia’s athletic teams enjoyed remarkable success during Uga VI’s reign. All told, 19 of Georgia’s 35 national championships have been secured under Uga VI. Bulldog athletic teams also have won 35 SEC Championships. In addition, Georgia has recorded six top-10 finishes in the Director’s Cup, the annual all-sports competition ranking the nation’s top athletic programs.
Uga VI also was featured in countless national publications and television shows. Most recently, a documentary on the Uga lineage was produced for CSS TV by Jeff Eldridge.

Uga VI, who was only one year old at the time of his coronation, was the biggest of all the mascots weighing in at 65 pounds—more than 20 pounds heavier than his father—and like his forefathers was a solid white English bulldog. His registered name was “Uga V’s Whatchagot Loran?”—a reference to the famous question of Georgia radio play-by-play announcer Larry Munson when communicating with sideline reporter Loran Smith.

City of Blinding Lights

2008-06-26T20:12:00.005-04:00

New York is BIG. I used to think I would like to live in NYC, maybe go to NYU for film school, become some guerilla documentary/independent filmmaker. After a little more than a day there over the weekend I'd probably amend that to a "nope." I guess I don't have a "New York State of Mind."

Also, I do not recommend driving into the city. It should be borderline criminal to own a vehicle within city limits. How does anyone ever get around or get anywhere on time? Traffic was ok until I hit 87 -- then BAM! slow crawl the remainder. I turned a bend around Pelham/Mt. Vernon and there it was, the gorgeous monstrosity of Manhattan. Google Maps failed me hard; I got off the highway and drove around what I thought was Queens for about 45 minutes, only to find out I was in the Bronx. A mass of vehicles and no lanes on the Triborough Bridge to Queens. Luckily I was freaking out about the bumper-to-bumper traffic and where I was going, so I didn't have the time or peace of mind to freak out about the fucking terrifying bridge I was on. Too many bridges. I got stuck in traffic on the GW Bridge a few years ago and man let me tell you -- not a fun feeling.

We stayed at a college buddy's place for the night in Astoria, which turned out being a predominantly Greek neighborhood. Cassimus wasn't even there, but he still hooked us up solidly and let us crash and gave us full-reign of the place. New York has to be the biggest melting pot anywhere. People people people everywhere. Honking cars, overheard languages I had no idea of, kids flying on skateboards against traffic, ethnic cops who barely spoke English themselves giving directions, OB/GYN offices in loft apartments, elevated trains, and New Yorkers blowing by tourists everywhere. I met up with Joe and we scouted out Manhattan a bit before we met Tony at LaGuardia. The three of us had dinner at The Athens Cafe where I was made fun of by the only blonde Greek girls I've ever met for not wanting any veggies on my gyro wrap. Lots of beers (can't recommend the Mythos brand), lots of conversation and catching up, and a running tally of ringer T's and great tits.

Saturday was Yankee Stadium, the game, a very short walk in Central Park, much subway confusion, late lunch in Little Italy (the North End is better), and adieu to NYC. I was ready to leave and anxious for Mass. and the smaller but equally grand charms of home -- the evidence seen clearly on the rental car's speedometer. New York City: a magical delirium of noise, marvels, and $-signs.

A short list of things I saw:

the Brooklyn Bridge
Rockefeller Center
brief glimpse of the park
Wall St. & the NYSE
a couple of Trump buildings
Tiffany's
the site of Gen. Washington's inauguration
a replica of the Mayflower from afar
the Statue of Liberty from very afar
Battery Park
Yankee & Shea Stadiums
the millionaire and rich CEO helicopter landing pier and some very big Staten Island ferries
street merchants! foakley's! bootleg videos! fake rolexes!

At one point, Joe and I were walking around Lower Manhattan, lost and trying to find our way after jumping off the subway. These were literally my first sights of Manhattan and I was more than a little disoriented. Suddenly I remarked to Joe: "Hey, I wonder what that big open space is...that real estate must be worth a fortune. I can't believe nothing's there." Joe looked at it, then me, then after a second he replied: "I think that's Ground Zero."

"Oh..."

Country mouse goes to the big city

2008-06-20T00:51:00.004-04:00

Few words before I lay down for a few hours here...

Tomorrow I'm going to the Big City for the first time in my life. NYC. This weekend is the 2008 Baseball Extravaganza portion of the so-far not-very-fulfilling Summer of Seersucker. Was going to fly a 30-minute shuttle down and rent a car in the city to drive Joe, Tony, and I back to Boston but that cost like $200 for a day. Instead, they would rather have you take the car for 3 days, put on double the miles, and pay something like $60. Go figure. Reds v. Yankees on Saturday for my first (and probably only) game at original Yankee Stadium. Come home for Sox v. Cards on Sunday. It's supposed to rain and thunderstorm all weekend. Dear God, I beseech you -- please issue a stay of execution on the weather this one time for me. I have too much invested in this weekend financially, emotionally, and spiritually. I need this.

Ugh....I'm done. I know I've been absent, but I swear next week I'll get back to it. Lots to discuss including Russian literature, a heart-wrenching Italian film that actually gives The Bicycle Thief a run for its money, Dunce Cap math, my face + exploding oil + pain, seersucker, wilderness adventures, and the Death of Grace (?). Adios.

ps. Here's hoping I don't get my skull split by some thug Yankees fan in a sports bar for being too mouthy. Restraint is my weekend watchword.

pps. Would it be too much to ask that the fucking baseball team starts winning some games?

The train wreck continues

2008-05-21T09:44:00.003-04:00

The email...

Yo Whitney,
how's it going? Hope you had a good weekend. Listen, I know you said you'd let me know if you got free this week to do something, but don't worry about it. I'm most likely going to be out of town for Memorial Day and more importantly I just don't feel like I'm getting a real good vibe from you. You're pretty much the only cool person I ended up meeting thru match and you seem like you would be a really fun person to hang out with or hit up a Sox game with, but I'm just getting too many mixed signals from you. I kind of feel like you were a bit prejudiced against me from the start for some reason (from the South, not into the club scene, don't live within Boston city limits?) and never gave me much of a chance. I'm not gonna lie; I was pretty surprised and put off when you jetted after only like 30 minutes when we got together at Tia's. I didn't want to say anything, but I noticed your friend from your pictures online follow you into the bathroom and figured you guys were doing some girl pow-wow since you were in there so long. I honestly thought you had just left. So if you thought I was nervous or uncomfortable that's probably why. I'm pretty blunt and straight-forward; I would have much rather you simply came out and told me you weren't having a good time or thought I was funny-looking or something. I understand if you had to catch your friend's birthday, but it came out sounding like you guys cooked up a story to get out of the date. Anyway, no hard feelings and I hate to sound accusing, but that's just what I gathered from it. I thought maybe I was over-analyzing everything when you said you'd like to play mini-golf or get together again, but you seem to always be too busy. I think you are a nice girl and I would have liked to get to know you a little bit better, but I don't go in for much of the cat-and-mouse games and you seemed a little immature and insincere. Sorry if I'm a bit harsh; like I said, just telling it how I see it. Anyway, once again no hard feelings; it's all part of dating I guess. Good luck and have a good summer.

Peace out,
The Dunce Cap Marvel

The response...

ok, wow, back off a little, eh? i don't know where all this is coming from, feeling a bit defensive and decide its ok to take it out on me? someone u've met once? you wrote that i give you mixed signals? yet you say im cool one sentence, then hate on me the next. whats up with that? and what are u talking about prejudice?? i believe i conveyed that i thought it was ballsy that u moved up here alone - u were saying how much u hate the south, not i. i don't think i ever said anything about the club scene?? and i just was saying that i love boston, the city is awesome, i'm a city person. we met for like an hour, which is a pretty fair amount of time for a first date. i don't want to spend 12 hrs with someone right off the bat. if you don't or didn't want to come into the city, well no one held a gun to your head. this is where i live and where i like to hang out. you say that you don't want to play games? well not telling me how i feel in the moment but then sending me some haterade email seems like games to me. and wtf, i had to pee! if my friend also uses the bathroom at that time, or follows me in, i can't control that. you just came off waaaay paranoid. i've been myself in all emails we've shared and in person. you don't seem to "get" me all that well, and honestly, sounds like you've got some hang ups - those of which i don't want to be the scapegoat to. it's a first date with someone you havent met yet for hecks sake! i was nervous, not embarassed to say it. i feel like u put way too much pressure on it and had all these expectations, which i'm not down for. you don't believe that i have to work on weekends? well i'm not gonna defend myself there. that's ur problem. you're very rude to judge me saying u think i'm insincere and immature. then say sorry for being harsh yada yada yada. talk about insincere and immature. if i got an email like the one you sent i wouldn't want to have anything to do with that person again. oh wait, i did. and oh wait, i dont.

Bloody rejection

2008-05-07T23:21:00.002-04:00

I had my first date in about two years tonight. I wasn't shooting for anything crazy, my expectations were mostly held in check; I just wanted to go out, have a nice conversation, maybe have a good enough time with the girl to have a shot at a follow-up. I might as well have signed up to go on Elimidate; I lasted approximately 47 minutes.

Trouble started brewing at work when I was told I could not wear shorts and a pink shirt out to a date. Hey, news to me. I spent a frantic and nerve-wracking two hour lunch at the mall buying a pair of khakis and looking everywhere for a pair of decent shoes to wear with them. I ended up spending almost $100 so I opted to stick with the pink shirt.

I took the train into the city to meet this girl down by Fanueil Hall at 8 pm. I have to say I cut a striking figure in my snappy new khakis and Timberland loafers. I even tucked in my shirt for only the 17th time in my lifetime. Unfortunately, wearing shoes without socks (which I almost never do) gave me mad blisters and tore off all the skin on my left pinkie toe and heel, so I ended up limping over to the waterfront looking like Long John Silver.

I met her at the cocktail bar a quarter of and my nervousness settled down pretty quickly. Real cute/pretty girl, tall as all heck, and great hair. We had a drink and talked for about 20 minutes. Almost the first thing out of her mouth was, "wow, pink shirt, huh?" Still, it seemed like everything was going well: good convo, no awkward pauses, laughs, good times had by all. She got up to go to the restroom and this Sherlock Jr. noticed a girl following her in that had been in her profile pictures online. So her and this friend end up spending like 15 minutes squirreled away; I guess she thought things weren't going well and needed an exit strategy....

Anyway she came back and I could tell she wanted to leave so things got weird and the strange silences started cropping up and I got nervous as hell. After about another 10 minutes of half-hearted conversation she let me know she was leaving to go celebrate her friend's birthday, and that was that. Uncomfortable good-bye and all, I probably had about 30 or so minutes of face time with this girl. Walking off into the night, I honestly expected to have to give a testimonial to some cameraman following me or something. So I was pretty fucking bummed and pissed off. A whole lot of hassle and stressing and expense for what amounted to nothing more than a quick, we'll-squeeze-you-into-our-busy-schedule audition. Not to mention that my left ankle looked like Curt Schilling's in the 2004 ALCS.

I don't know; not a great confidence booster for my first time throwing myself back out there. Not sure how I feel about continuing with the match.com deal. I've emailed about 10 different girls and this was the only one I had really heard back from. We had been chatting and exchanging emails for the past three weeks so I figured I was doing OK and had a shot, but I guess she decided otherwise. I just wish I could have had a real date, instead of that waste of time. I ended up coming home and buying a bottle of champagne to celebrate the futility of my manhood.

Game ball goes to Joey Votto. If he hadn't hit those three homers today I think I would be much more depressed than I am now. Thanks for looking out for me buddy.

Perpetual sorrow until the morrow

2008-04-26T18:20:00.007-04:00

When is a lap dance just a lap dance? Apparently, when I am the one on the receiving end. Last night I went out for drinks and dancing and met with confidence busters at about every turn. Firstly, I got called out for wearing a striped shirt with striped shorts. Not a good beginning to the Summer of Seersucker. I ended up borrowing a too-small blue polo before we went out and ended up looking like some lame 12-year old frat boy. Those were some short sleeves.

Secondly, I have absolutely no idea how I went home by myself last night. All night I was dancing with a girl who was all over me. All night she had been bemoaning her situation with some douche she was dating. I ruthlessly and efficiently stepped in without pause. Hours of bumping and grinding later I thought, "I'm in." Nope. Music stopped, bar closed, she drove back to New Hampshire. Ugh.

Other fun tidbits:

1) A 25-year old kid making his 5th career start held the Reds to 1 run on 4 hits for 8 innings. Following this team is a complete waste of baseball season.

2) Everybody gets a little drunk and forgets to close their bar tab from time to time. But who makes a point to close out the bill and then still leaves their debit card behind? The Dunce Cap Marvel, that's who.

3) It takes some kind of genius to slice open their hand with a butter knife to try to dislodge a splinter.

WHAT ARE THE ODDS?
Seen while walking down a Salem street in a span of 10 minutes: Two completely separate station wagons with stereos blasting Metallica. What doesn't feel right about affordable transport for your large family mixed with the ear-splitting strains of hard-core heavy metal? I swear if I see some soccer mom in a Volvo rocking out to And Justice For All my shit will be officially flipped.

Go forth and discover!

2008-04-20T20:31:00.019-04:00

Do you know the absolute compelling beauty of discovering a new love? The kind that crawls up inside of you, simultaneously grabs your gut, heart, and mind and yanks with gentle yet authoritative force? The kind that -- whether chick, flick, or book -- is as impossible to dislodge as a facehugger?

I am completely taken by that feeling presently. Have been for the past couple of weeks. I recently read A Farewell to Arms and to quote it "changed my whole outlook on shit." This book is one of the most beautiful amazing pieces of literature I have ever read. For me, Hemingway could have written nothing else in his career and this book would still be enough to label him one of the greatest authors in American prose.

I was moved, I was changed. I have been thinking about this novel ad nauseam; it will not budge from my mind. It keeps me up at nights. How did an old Romantic like me miss out on this story? It is at once so timeless, and yet so locked in, so descriptive of that awful, horrid Great War. Reading it gave me such a sense of fellowship with Hemingway. I feel his pain, his loss. I feel I have looked on his soul and memory through his words and come to understand what he experienced during those dismal, hopeful years. I am a silent observer to that summer in Milan, Germans gliding on bicyles, and that fateful flight to Switzerland. This book has violently, eloquently forced itself onto my list of favorite books. I am in love with Catherine Barkley.

Probably one of my favorite passages:

I could go to Spain if there was no war. The sun was going down and the day was cooling off. After supper I would go and see Catherine Barkley. I wish she was here now. I wished I were in Milan with her. I would like to eat at the Cova and then walk down the Via Manzoni in the hot evening and cross over and turn off along the canal and go to the hotel with Catherine Barkley. Maybe she would. Maybe she would pretend that I was her boy that was killed and we would go in the front door and the porter would take off his cap and I would stop at the concierge's desk and ask for the key and she would stand by the elevator and then we would get in the elevator and it would go up very slowly clicking at all the floors and then our floor and the boy would open the door and stand there and she would step out and I would step out and we would walk down the hall and I would put the key in the door and open it and go in and then take down the telephone and ask them to send a bottle of capri bianca in a silver bucket full of ice and you would hear the ice against the pail coming down the coridor and the boy would knock and I would say leave it outside the door please. Because we would not wear any clothes because it was so hot and the window open and the swallows flying over the roofs of the houses and when it was dark afterward and you went to the window very small bats hunting over the houses and close down over the trees and we would drink the capri and the door locked and it hot and only a sheet and the whole night and we would both love each other all night in the hot night in Milan. That was how it ought to be. I would eat quickly and go and see Catherine Barkley.

So, so hauntingly, desperately beautiful.

DID I MENTION THERE WAS A LIST?
Since I mentioned a list of my favorite books, I figured I would go ahead and list my Top 10. This has been pretty unchanged for years. A Farewell to Arms is the big change, and oh what a change. Here goes...

10) Big Red -- One of my favorite stories of all time and one of 3 dog stories in my top 10. I read so much Jim Kjelgaard as a kid I've forgotten most of it. This story made me fall in love with Irish Setters; a breed I've wanted to own my entire life. Red vs. Old Majesty is heart-wrenching stuff. A boy and his dog; could there be anything better?

9) To Kill A Mockingbird -- Discounting Twain, this is the only Southern literature I truly love with a depth of heart. The film may buoy my love of the book, but regardless a great, great story full of life and emotion. Scout, Atticus, Boo Radley, Dill -- I love these characters. Harper Lee, I thank you.

8) The Dark Tower series -- The series that ties it all together. If you love The Stand, Insomnia, 'Salem's Lot, or Eyes of the Dragon, this is the penultimate read. Roland is one of my favorite characters across all of the English language. One of the greatest epics I've ever read. Also a helluva boy and dog story hidden amongst all the rest of the King stuff. Say thankee, sai.

7) The Dream Quest of Unknown Kadath -- What can I say about this long short story/novella? It changed my life. It influenced my ideas on dreams, cats, horror, fantasy, and New England. Not the best or my most favorite Lovecraft, but for me the most important. Pickman lives.

6) The Silmarillion -- This was a tough call. This could have easily been Frodo and Aragorn's spot. I love The Lord of the Rings. Eowyn is one of my favorite characters in books (that's a good heroine for you lada!). The scene between her and the Witch King almost tipped the balance. But at the end of the day I think I love Tolkien's origin story just a little bit more. I love the celestial song, the gods of Middle-Earth, the curse of the elves, and the follies of Man. The narrative of LOTR is supreme storytelling, but I love the loss of innocence and painful sorrow that the tale of the Silmarils represents. The story of Beren and Lúthien is here in full, and Fingolfin is the baddest elf Middle-Earth has ever seen. Apologies to Legolas.

5) Adventures of Huckleberry Finn -- This was the first book I read that I realized was literature. Still the greatest American Novel. This book changed the way I looked at what I read; and I was about 8 years old. My first real exposure to the concept of slavery and racism. An incredible adventure story for boys that still teaches that nobility of soul and goodness of heart are directed by character, not color. I can't tell you how many times I've read and reread Huck's escape from his father's cabin and meeting Jim on Jackson's Island.

4) The Last of the Mohicans -- I love Indians, I love muskets, I love tracking, I love history. This has it all. Uncas is one of America's earliest tragic figures -- in more ways than one. Natty Bumppo is a badass of the highest sort. One of my first sources for love of multiple names for the same character. This has to be considered one of the earliest examples of historical fiction. I love this period in history; I love this book.

3) A Farewell to Arms -- I would suffer Spanish Inquisition torture to protect my mental image of Catherine Barkley.

2) White Fang -- For me, the greatest dog story ever told. I still own the same copy my mother bought me that day in '91 when we went to go see the movie with Ethan Hawke and Bart the Bear, who at that time was my favorite actor. The tagline is:

But can a wolf understand the word "hope"?
can a creature of hatred understand the word "love"?

Most people consider London's Call of the Wild his ultimate work. I will fight that to the end. White Fang is a story of great love and great hate. It explores a lot of the troubling social issues plaguing Alaska at the turn of the 20th century, it recognizes the inherent savage beauty of nature, it illustrates the cruel, pettiness of Man, and then turns around and celebrates His innate generosity and love. Once again, the greatest dog and man story ever told against the backdrop of cruel, white, cold Alaska. My copy has bent edges and yellow pages, but I would rather throw the Bible overboard of a lifeboat than it. If I lost this book I would cry for years. My first pick to be stuck on a desert island with.

1) Dracula -- This is it. The best book I have ever read. Everything came together perfectly for this novel. Who would think a poor, untalented Irishman, possibly in love with his boss would come up with the greatest horror novel of all time? This is one of the most perfect books ever written; it came in the right time in Western history. It was a fitting end to Victorian culture and beginning to new sensabilities. It combines old school ideas like vampires and superstitions with new age mechanisms of blood transfusions and phonographs. Easily the best epistolary novel that will ever be written. Birthplace of the most popular and prolific character throughout Western literature and film. Our greatest character. Dracula raises questions of sexuality, morality, mortality, heroicism, spirituality, and individuality. A novel that accomplishes all kinds of things and still manages to scare the piss out of me every time I read it. I would not trade places with Jonathan Harker for 1,000 extra heartbeats.

Turistas

2008-04-06T19:51:00.002-04:00

They came. The weekend was cold and grey and wet and still they came like an unstoppable rebel force. First weekend of April and the tourists have descended like human-locusts on Salem. Almost overnight our quiet, seaside town of winter has transformed into a crush of humanity. The calendar flips a page, the season starts, and we become the equivalent of a plague victim relocation center.

I stumbled out the door yesterday about noon to grab a serene, greasy breakfast to cure my hangover. I was not expecting the crowded sidewalks, the clogged streets, or the 30 minute wait in line for some bacon and eggs thanks to a visiting high school band field trip. Too many helter skelter kids, too many senior groups all wearing the same matching yellow and purple t-shirts, too many gawking idiots taking pictures of the neighborhood liquor store (it's called the Bunghole -- not all that funny).

Right now, in the beginning, it's amusing and almost kind of nice. I think, "hey, I live in a really cool place that people want to see!" But it gets old fast. Your commute gets slower, you get a bit claustrophobic walking down the street sometimes, more assholes come out of the woodworks to almost hit you on your bike cuz they aren't paying attention, and your spot at the bar in the neighborhood pub is not as easy to claim, even on days when you'd think it would be slow as hell. The ferry to Boston does start running and there will be lots of stuff to do come summer, but I know that I'll breathe a sigh of relief come November 1st. Let's start the insanity...

Is it football season yet?

2008-03-31T19:59:00.004-04:00

Wow, what a mediocre Opening Day. Last night set a nice precedent with a well-pitched game in a gorgeous new stadium with the Nats' frachise player for the next 10 years, Ryan Zimmerman, hitting the walk-off HR in the bottom of the ninth. Good storyline, good baseball game. The President even made a funny joke on national TV about being full of hot air.

Today, not so much. Seemed like half of the day's games got postponed or delayed because of national rainstorms (all thanks to the terrorists and their diabolical weather machine). The only saving grace with the weather is that Jeff Francis and his awful outing got erased from my fantasy score due to the game getting called. I had to work and didn't get to watch the Reds get gunned down by Brandon Webb & Co. 3 hits and 10 Ks? Won't be getting to 87 wins if the offense stays that quiet for long stretches. It looked like the team had a nice tribute to Nuxie though.

I tried to rush home to catch at least the last inning, but the game ended right as I booted up the computer. And now it looks like mlb.tv has fucked me over by not working at all. I haven't been able to watch anything other than a few glitchy snatches of innings from a few different games. I did get to see Kerry Wood cough it up in the ninth, but missed Gag-me doing the same minutes later. Hopefully this was a harbinger of things to come for both teams. How funny would it be if the Reds end up having the stablest bullpen in the division this season?

Trying to watch the Braves game now, but still no feed coming to my computer. I upgraded to the better package this year. Hopefully that's not going to be a waste of $120. Bad day for baseball.

. . . the Georgia spring game is this weekend.

The ghosts of my passenger seat

2008-03-22T20:08:00.003-04:00

I jumped in the truck today after a drop/receive at the library and immediately swiveled around to ask Laura a question about some book or song I was thinking about. But she wasn't there; I took her to the airport on Tuesday morning. I wanted to turn around and double-check to make sure my darling cousin wasn't making a nest amongst the jumpseats in back, but I knew that it was fruitless. I grew so used to having driving companions on my extended weekend/very short sabbatical that I have been having trouble adjusting. No one to talk, ruminate, muse, or ponder with (dialoguing is still out).

This is not a new phenomenom. Many times post-Deven I could swear that if I squinted hard enough that she would appear out of a haze, seated right there beside me exactly in appearance (same clothes, same familiar ponytail, same bright pink toenail polish) as she was before stepping out of the truck on a bright, sunny summer day -- right before she took another step right out of my life shortly thereafter. And this is long after I'd gotten over her and hadn't thought about her in months; it was if some phantom essence of her infused itself into the plush and vinyl after only a half a dozen rides.

And long before that the two great loves of my late teenage years -- my ex-girlfriend and Blue, my old '89 VW Jetta -- had combined to form an ever-looping emo song running on four wheels and $1.19 a gallon. That vehicle saw hours and hours of me and Annie together -- good times, first dates, trips to the mountains and every point between Roswell and Marietta, back-seat escapades, and later fights, midnight tears, and near-death experiences while attempting empty shots at reconciliation. That car became mother-fucking Christine; that car was alive. So much love and memory and emotion was poured into that car until the chassis and everything built on it was inundated with it. Dash, seats, stick shift, radio knob; everything on that car had a Annie-memory attached. Long after she was gone I would swear to feeling her presence or recognizing her scent as I drove down those old north Georgia roads we had taken so many times together.

I fucking killed that car. Something deep within my brain must have realized that I was torturing myself just driving that thing to the corner store. That car was going on 300K miles and was still fine other than a handful of minor annoyances and the eventual lack of a reverse. Something subconciously must have told me to exorcise that poltergeist and try to move on. I fucked up a coolant hose on my way home from work one day and I burned that fucking engine up. I loved you to death Blue, but to death you had to go.

But now it's just me and Grace until someone else comes along. The only thing I'm reaching over the center console to grab is maybe some library books or my groceries. Until then I'll keep screaming at Massholes and talking to myself and my truck over the sounds of NPR.

Written for an audience of one

2008-02-21T22:31:00.006-05:00

FOR LADA
Four months. Dozens of chapter icons. Innumerable character names. And a full 5,994 pages.

Last night, for the first time since last year I didn't have a Wheel of Time book to read before I went to bed. I have finally read the entire series by Robert Jordan (save the last one which he is not writing -- because he is dead). I no longer have to nod happily and tell people "yes, I will get around to those some day" while I silently think "piss off". I started Book Three towards the end of October and finished Book 11 on Wednesday at approximately 1:30 in the am. I had previously read the first two of the series years ago in college and hated them.

So what was the verdict? Why undertake such a mammoth read?

I finally got down to it for 3 reasons:
1) to honor the memory of Mr. Jordan (alias James Rigney) who I had come to admire in the past year
2) I was getting in the mood for a new fantasy series since Tad Williams and George R.R. Martin have been keeping me in a holding pattern
3) I was fucking sick to death of being nagged by family members

I still hold that the first two books sucked balls from what I can remember from them and I did go into the rest of the series with perhaps not a bad attitude, but admittedly a bit of derision and dismissiveness. But even so, I would say that overall I enjoyed them thoroughly and had a good experience. Quite a few times I found myself peeved that I had not prepared in advance so that the next book was on hold at the library when I finished with one. I even bought a paperback of The Shadow Rising in the airport Borders so I didn't have to wait until the next day for the library's copy. I became interested in a lot of the fan chat online and found myself skimming around message boards much to some people's chagrin. I found myself frequenting a particular artist's blog for weekly updates on his incredibly well done character portraits. So all in all, I would say I am a fan, if not a rabid, geeked-out one.

There were some issues of course. Many times I found myself laughing out loud at some rather silly sequences and some things were just too over-the-top, even for the genre. Many of the characterizations and descriptions became rather repetitive. By Book 10 I'm fully aware of the struggle that is seizing saidin. I don't need it described in depth each time. As I understand it, Robert Jordan's wife was/is his editor for the books. I question her objectivity and wonder if she fills this position for other novels. Much of the content could have been drastically cut down and pared to a more concise and fluid narrative. Also the author was quite sloppy at times with his event chronicling; his timeframes seemed to jump a bit up and down the line. However, a lot of my problems with the books were mostly superficial; like I said I enjoyed them and he's clearly made his publisher a very rich man so what do I know?

Maybe eventually I'll try Jordan's other books. I believe he does Revolutionary War fiction; that could be interesting. Probably have to stay away from his Conan stories however. I'm just not too sure how I feel about anybody but Howard writing about that wily Cimmerian. All in all good reads; I'll pat myself on the back for slogging through them all at once. All too happy to be done with them and moving on though. I think I need to cleanse my palate with some nonfiction or horror stories.

A COLLECTION OF OTHER POINTS OF INTEREST

- Is Rand al'Thor the worst protagonist of a major fantasy series? I think so. In the beginning he is the prototypical Luke Skywalker/Frodo Baggins archetype pulled into events bigger than his simple background (LET'S HOPE HE CAN SAVE THE WORLD!!!). He grows a bit, becomes somewhat interesting, but by the end of Book Six he has become incredibly dull and one-note and stays that way for the duration. I found myself dreading seeing that black & white dragon chapter icon. He never surprises the reader; he always reacts just how I expect him to. The series has become less "how will Rand save the world" and morphed into "who will soften Rand's steel heart and make him remember his inner child?" In a series where almost every character, male and female, has to one-up everyone else for the title of "Most Hard", Rand takes the cake. Snooze...I know in the end Rand is going to pull a Harry Potter "dead but not really bait-and-switch", but I would just prefer if he stays dead and his three wives have to "console" each other.

- Biggest flip-flop between two characters: Egwene and Min. Starting out, I really liked Egwene and was interested in her story arc. Could the simply, naive country girl survive the harshness of the world amongst all these guys and safeguard Rand at the same time? Conversely, I hated Min. I saw her as a really lame, shallow tomboy character out to steal Egwene's man with an amazing convenient plot device power. Now Egwene has become the female version of Rand for me. I still typically like her chapters for the politics and powerplays and because I really dig Suian, but I can't like Egwene at all. I can't get past her "I'm a strong woman so I need to be a raging bitch" attitude and her haughty airs. I hope she and Gawyn have a romantic reunion on the battlefield of Tarmon Gai'don; they slow-mo run to each other's arms, make out, and promptly get mowed down by a battalion of Trollocs. Min, I like. She's got sass, she's got spunk, she's got the sexy librarian thing going with her nose always in a book and she makes Rand's chapters easier to stomach. And while the three girls get to "share" Rand, it's been more like Min loaning him out to Elayne and Avi for one hookup each. Rock on Min.

...more to come

By the power of construction paper and pink frilly lace!

2008-02-14T19:49:00.012-05:00

Ok, I'm not a big fan of Valentine's Day. It completely double-fucks you by being a forced, commericialized holiday to be endured and passed rather than looked forward to while in perfect synchronicity it makes you feel insecure and devalued if you aren't spending it with someone you have a chance to make out with at the end of the night. I don't even know who St. Valentine is, except that I think he was a martyr who got literally ripped apart by Celts.

Once again, like every year of my sexual maturity, I have no significant other or date today. The closest I've ever come was getting dumped a couple of days before February 14 my freshman year of college. It's typically a good pencil-me-in-depressed date on the calendar. However, this year I have received a Valentine's gift that ranks a close second behind my first eye-opening volume of Lovecraft stories for best V-Day gift ever.

Yesterday I received in the mail from my mother via some dude in Michigan....

...A COMPLETE VINTAGE HE-MAN AND BATTLE CAT!!! Other than a bit of smudge on the face, dude and plastic green tiger are in great shape and come with all the requisite accoutrements. Thinking about taking him to work to set up in my hell-cube. I am also informed that Castle Greyskull is on the way and that my entire childhood He-Man action figure collection will be recreated for me after I stupidly sold them all for 25 cents a pop. What a fucking rad suprise...thanks Mom!

And to add to that, Uncles Steve and George gave me another great present in the finally-released trailer for Indy IV.

I have to say that this may be my most anticipated film this summer with the recent tragedy connected to Dark Knight. Either way though, I'm pumped and looking forward to it. I'm 10 years old again today. Enjoy your chocolates; I've got to get back to geeking out.

Super Ash Wednesday

2008-02-06T19:31:00.000-05:00

I was just in the car coming back from the store and I was listening to NPR (when am I not?) and they had these three foreign journalists based in Washington D.C. talking about the current primary season and American political scene and how it was viewed by their readers back home. They were from Germany, France, and Poland.

German guy was great. Question was: "How do your readers back home feel about the possibility of a female President with Hillary Clinton? Does that intrigue them or have special significance to them?"

German Guy: "Vell, not really. Two years ago, vee elected a voman Kanzler and Great Britain did many years ago. Zo...zat does not affect us zat much. Man...voman...makes no difference. She can still be a strong leader, and vee do not expect to see her crying on television every 4 weeks."

Oh...I had a good laugh at that one. Those crazy Germans. Lump in Gov. Schwarzenegger in there as well after his mini-press conference yesterday in Cali about his and Maria's differing political viewpoints. He finished with a joke about how when he took his marriage vows and promised to be with her through sickness and health, her Democratic leaning was her sickness. The guy gives phenomenal lines even when he's not in a Jim Cameron movie. I'm up for amending the Constitution.

But listening to that interview on the radio gave me some perspective. All three of these foreign journalists talked about how no one overseas understands when Americans --voters and candidates both -- talk about how Washington is broken and the political system needs change and a break from corruption and special interests. They went on about how our system is perceived as the "perfect" model of democratic government and how it's been so incredibly stable for some 200 years. They couldn't understand why we seemed to need so much political change and upheaval.

It was just so refreshing and vindicating to hear these intelligent political writers describing our government as so great, so well-oiled, and so transparent to members of the media. I thought about it a minute and considered goverments in places like Italy and Kenya where there have been major issues recently and I just felt really lucky and extremely proud. No one here was running around with machetes and torches when Obama suggested that he may have won more delegates than Billary this morning. And our legislators don't get into fistfights and throw shoes like they do in Italy and Japan when people disagree. At least not anymore...I think.

But I did my civic duty yesterday. I voted for McCain in the Republican primary even though I support Barack for the whole shebang. Unlike Georgia, we in Mass. aren't able to choose which ballot to vote on the day of and I just couldn't bring myself to change my registration to Democrat, even for one election. I figured Mr. McCain would need my vote more anyhow, with Romney not too long removed from the Governor's post here. Needless to say, I wasn't the deciding vote by a long shot. I was also bummed that the Massholes couldn't rally for a win for Obama. That kind of surprised me; I figured the Kennedy/Obama lovefest would have helped swing it to him but I suppose I overestimated the influence of two of America's suckiest senators.

I was feeling a bit glum after last night and when I woke up this morning and saw California results in Hillary's favor, but after many hours of work listening to political analysis and really devouring the numbers I have regained confidence and feel good about the chances of YES WE CAN. But just in case, I said a little prayer to Jesus in Mass this morning to help me reject sin and to help America reject Hillary during this Lenten season. So we should be covered there.

R.I.P. Mark Sway

2008-01-15T23:45:00.000-05:00

"I wish sometimes that I wasn't as conscious as I am." -- River Phoenix

They found Brad Renfro dead in his house this morning. No one can say for sure right now but it was most likely alcohol/drug-related. Another former child actor meets another ignominious end. It makes me so sad. I liked Brad so much. I think his work in The Client was superb; it should be included in any discussion of notable performances by child actors. I always rooted for him to do well and be successful and was always glad to see him when he popped up in something. I guess the last movie I saw with him in it was either Ghost World or Bully in 2001. He was 25 years old, a month older than me. My age. Scary stuff.

So I'm really sad and a little pissed off at him right now. Sadder still cuz he always used to remind me of River, so talented but with a dangerous undercurrent right on the cusp. And now he's got more in common with River than he should have. I idol-worshipped River when I was a kid, and I guess part of me still does. I will always consider him the finest actor of his generation. I'm still a bit heartbroken over him dying so young, over what he did to himself. We watch these kids grow up in the spotlight and laugh at them and goggle when they melt down and act stupid and get arrested and get themselves killed. It's all just so sad.

So rest easy Brad. I hope you're up there chilling with River and all the ones who went before you. I'm just sorry you couldn't avoid the same trap and beat your problems. Peace brother.

Short in the living, long in the lived

2008-01-10T22:09:00.000-05:00

For the most part I have no regrets for many of the life choices I have made in the past year and a half. A few regrets here and there, sure, but I am overall pretty happy with where I'm at and the course I set myself on when I moved here to Massachusetts.

Tonight I was going through my desk and trying to organize all the junk I have and I started to go through an old shoe box of mine. I'm a huge packrat and a bit sentimental so we'll call this a "Box o' Memories". Old newspaper clippings of the famed "Pokey Stick Bandit" of Athens, love mementos and tattered scraps of a relationship that refuses to die, every single ticket stub for every movie I have seen from two weeks ago back to 7th grade, my dog's AKC papers, and pictures of friends.

I goddamn miss my friends. I get so dang lonely here sometimes. I got to thinking about old times, funny stories, high school times, college times.....friends who have drifted, friends who have passed, and friends chewed up by the maelstrom of life and sent adrift, lost. I feel bad for all the friends I've failed, the ones I've pushed away, and the friendships and relationships I've killed off before they could grow into something possibly beautiful all because I became someone I didn't want to be.

I finally manned up and called Jenner a few weeks ago the day after her birthday, right before Christmas . It had been about a year since last time I talked to her. We just talked for the better part of an hour catching up; it was good to hear her on the phone again. She has just always been the best.

Last June I went down to D.C. to visit Joe and Jamal, while Nick and Tony flew up from Atlanta. The five of us all together for a long weekend, something that unfortunately doesn't happen anymore very often. Some drifted away, others not as close as before, some I had sworn never to speak to ever again. Over what? Who can recall, but they are still my best friends, no matter what. I could hardly contain myself that weekend; I was so goddamn happy to just be with them that I thought I was fit to burst into tears at any moment.

I think I might need to get out of Massachusetts for a few days next week. Maybe the dark New England winter is starting to get to me. Sometimes it just gets too quiet and I just get too lonely. I miss my friends.

The BCS shuffle

2007-12-02T18:57:00.000-05:00

Nighttrain987's comment from the ESPN messageboards:

For those just joining the conversation, I'll recap:
OSU-fan: "We're THE Ohio State University. Clearly we're entitled"
UGA-fan: "We're playing better than anyone right now, we deserve to go". (i.e. a 6-game winning streak trumps everything else, incl. overall wins-losses and especially SOS)
VT-fan: "Please forget about the first couple weeks of the season, they shouldn't count. Let us in!"
OU-fan: "Hey, anybody remember us from the 1980's??? Anybody???" {crickets chirping}
Hawaii-fan: "Let us please play for a NC before we're demoted to D-III. We're undefeated, like a few other D-II and D-III FB programs"
LSU-fan: "Dropping from #1 to #7 after the final regular season game was unjust. Make it right."

I am sitting here with a bottle of Brut in hand waiting waiting waiting to see what the BCS will bring come 8pm EST. I am praying praying praying that Santa comes a few weeks early this year and makes an incredible gift to Bulldogs everywhere and those fucks with their polls and their computers get it right and let us play for the national championship.

What a weekend. #1 and #2 both lost for the second straight week and the best team in the SEC didn't get a chance to play for its conference -- a game that I have no doubt in my mind that we would have won. At very worst this nation will not have to suffer through a completely bogus game in Mizzou v. WVU. Both teams were exposed badly and rightly so. There is a reason they are seen as 2nd-tier programs. They are 2nd-tier programs.

I'm not going to puff up and proclaim that Georgia is the best team in the country hands down and that we are entitled to the game. But I sure as hell know -- with no shred of doubt in my mind or heart -- that we deserve the right to play, and to show to the entire country who we are. Yes we have two losses, but our losses are no worse than LSU's or Va Tech's and they are certainly much better than USC's or Oklahoma's. There is no other team than UGA that is hotter, more explosive, or scares the beejesus out of Ohio State more than us.

Do the right thing you BCS dorks, you handlers of fate, you dolers of dollars...name LSU and UGA the rightful #1 and #2 and let Richt, Stafford, and Knowshon show the land that Georgia is the state for college football and that Bulldog Nation finishes the drill!

"Rounding third and heading for home"...for the last time

2007-11-18T19:51:00.000-05:00

Friday was a real sad day for me and all Reds fans everywhere. I logged onto my computer at work only to find out that Joe Nuxhall had died in the night from complications due to his lymphoma. I sat there in a state of shock trying to hold in the tears and unsuccessfully imagine a world without the Ol' Lefthander. He had been sick so many times over these past years, but he never showed it or let it come through in his voice on the radio. He always bounced right back and was back at the ballpark before you knew it that it's unbelievable that he didn't do the same this time.

Not surprisingly, Joe's passing didn't get much press outside of the Tri-State area and the little blurb on ESPN's front page was quickly lost to trival news of Bonds and A-Rod. How sad that one of the games's all-time great individuals had to take a back seat to a cheat and a prima donna.

Most people knew Joe as baseball's youngest player to ever appear in a game, but for fans of the Reds he was so much more. After appearing in a blowout game in relief to face Stan Musial at the age of 15, he spent the next 63 years of his life in service to the Cincinnati Reds organization and the Greater Cincinnati area. He was part of baseball's greatest radio tandem with Marty Brennaman. Joe was perhaps the greatest homer in all of baseball's history -- born and raised in nearby Hamilton, Ohio. Joe wasn't just a player for the Reds or an announcer for the Reds -- Joe was a true blue fan to his core. Joe was the Reds.

I regret that I wasn't around for the glory days of Joe Nuxhall on the radio. I can't make the claim that I spent summer nights with an old radio listening to games like my dad can. I only started listening to Reds games on the radio recently after Joe had retired. But I'm glad I did get to hear him call the few games that I did during this past season and Spring Training. I will say that I would always flip the TV broadcast over to the radio if I knew that Joe was back in the booth with Marty or whomever. He had a great way of calling games and an unmatched enthusiam when some Reds player whacked the ball a good hard one.

I know most people won't understand our loss. I know that for most people he is just another LHP with a 135-117 record and a 3.90 career ERA who happened to make baseball history one summer night in 1944 -- if they know him at all. The only (pale) comparison I can make is to imagine that Ernie Banks and Harry Caray died on the same day and that they were the same person. That's what Reds Nation has lost and it still doesn't even come close to describing what Joe was to us as the heart of the Reds franchise. Chris Welsh probably said it best the other day.

"It's like losing the biggest oak tree in your yard that's been there a century longer than any other tree. Now, all of a sudden, you have this barren spot. You fill it with memories of his voice."

I hope that the team next season will be so much more dedicated and focused, playing their hearts out everyday, every game for the Ol' Lefthander's memory. I can't think of a better way to honor him than to go out and produce our first divison title this century. And I'm so glad that the Hamilton All-Stars represented his hometown this year in the Little League World Series. I'm sure he was so proud of that fact and it turned out to be a nice treat in what proved to be the last few months of his life.

Rest easy Nuxie. We'll miss you.

Musings from (after) the storm

2007-11-06T21:22:00.000-05:00

This past Saturday we were hit by the remnants of Hurricane Noel. Lot of rain, lot of wind. But even with all the destruction and mayhem and heartbreak this storm caused elsewhere in the hemisphere all I can think about is what a crappy name for a killer storm. Honestly, who's working at the National Storm Registry (if there is such a thing) and naming these things. Noel? When one hears that name, one pictures a baby in a manger with a donkey. The Christmas carol is one of my most hummed tunes, whether it's in season or not.

Hugo was a great hurricane name. Ivan was even better, one for the ages. That storm tore up the Panhandle, stormed in Atlanta so bad we didn't have to sell papers that day, then went up through the Northeast and back to the Gulf again for a second go around. I was actually rooting for that storm to continue by the end of it. Crazy Ivan, Ivan the Terrible indeed.

Noel is shorthand for peace on Earth and everlasting goodwill amongst mankind -- not raging, murderous winds of doom and promised grief. Try better next time guys.

I want to commit crimes against the elderly

2007-10-25T21:46:00.001-04:00

I have been reading books almost all of my life, from The Poky Little Puppy to Crime and Punishment and everything in between. In all of those thousands of books I had never read anything by Cormac McCarthy. I finished No Country For Old Men not an hour ago and I have never been more unsatisfied and unsettled by a novel than by this one.

I saw the trailer for the new Coen Brothers' adaptation and I thought, "whoa, this looks bad-ass." I couldn't wait to see the movie so I picked the short novel up at the library. I could not and would not recommend this book to anyone. As much as I love the Coens I have serious doubts about paying to see the film. If this book is not an aberration and the rest of his catalog bears any similarity, then Cormac McCarthy is the worst sort of hack. The sort who writes His Way, even though His Way sucks dick, and manufactures a work so full of holes and errors and yet still manages to pass it off to his editors and reviewers as high-minded literature that is immune to such things as comprehension and understanding.

The book was good, even great, for 236 pages. Bad grammar but good premise and good characters. Lots of bloody violence. And it then just stopped. The action, the chase, the suspense all just stopped. And what picked up for the next 60 odd pages was an old man visiting his uncle to tell him about a bad day he had in WWII and remiminiscing to himself about how America is nothing like it used to be and wishing he knew his father better. Huh!? Imagine the movie Jaws where the shark is towing the Orca out to sea and Hooper and Brody are struggling to untie the lines. The cleats pop off and then....we jump cut to see the two of them standing on the beach giving each other high-fives. It was like that.

For 236 pages I forgave McCarthy for numerous plot holes, comma splices, and anachronisms. I ignored McCarthy playing fast and loose with his timelines and confusing narrative structure. These things were forgivable because I had a great, simple, taut thriller in my hands. But he threw all that away on page 237 and hit me in the teeth with a lead pipe. The only thing I can think to compare it too is Grapes of Wrath where everything that came before simply deflates and you're left with an old geezer sucking on some chick's tit in a rainstorm. That is how I felt.

Save yourself the feeling of wanting to simultaneously throw up, jump out of your skin, and crack a beer bottle over someone's head and avoid this book and its shitty author.

Do you want other people's morals on your popcorn?

2007-10-23T22:03:00.000-04:00

It seems the theme of the night is questionable parenting.

I went out to the movies tonight. The theater that I usually go to is right in downtown Salem; three screens, small, local, very community-driven. To get into the seasonal frenzy that is going on currently they have been dedicating most of their shows to old horror movies -- Hitchcock, Kubrick, Carpenter, and the ilk. I was going to see A Clockwork Orange cuz I've never seen it, but Evan gave Gone Baby Gone a glowing review the other day so I decided to see it instead.

I get to the ticket counter and this old couple -- with the wife taking point -- is giving the girl behind the counter a hard time. Turns out some mope brought his young children, 7 or 8-abouts in age from the hearsay, with him as he took in some filmic literature for the evening. Apparently there is a graphic rape scene in the movie so this parenting decision is clearly one of the great affronts to the decency of Western civ. The woman is a school principal -- who better for a strong moral compass? -- so of course she should be encouraged and allowed to berate the man in front of the audience and his children. Make of big show of getting your money back and walking out in a huff and listen as the queued-up masses applaud your virtue and demand you be pinned with ribbons.

She says how dare he? I say how dare her? It's his kids; he can raise them as he sees fit. I would imagine I would be a bit more selective in children's viewing fare, but it's not my problem. Mind your own business and don't get self-righteous about a film that you probably praised as "ground-breaking" when you were the age Malcolm McDowell was when he filmed it.

All of this dove-tailed nicely into Ben Affleck's directorial debut. The movie turned to the audience and asked, "who better to guide a young innocent into adulthood: some caring, well-meaning strangers with some skewed perspective or a coked-up, abusive single mother from Dorchester Heights? The movie was good, Casey Affleck was a badass, Michelle Monaghan was cute, and the ending did not take the typical route down Mulholland Drive. In the end I identified with Patrick and sided with his decision and walked home thinking concerned strangers need to keep their thoughts on parenting to themselves.

Day of infamy

2007-10-14T01:03:00.000-04:00

I am pained. Today marks the first of a long next three years. An hour ago I was happily watching episodes of Rome. Now I am crying into my beer. I checked ESPN for an update on the Sox-Indians game to find the game still tied 6-6 in the 10th inning. I also gained ugly, unwanted insight into the Reds new managerial hire. I shudder at the mention of...

...Dusty Baker being our new manager.

I don't keep a liquor cabinet at home. I find that it can be too much of a distraction. I may have to reverse that decision because I find myself awake at 1:11 on a Sunday morning with a serious need for a serious drink. I need a miracle to stretch my remaining beer into a dozen.

Dusty Baker is a disaster for my baseball team. He is one of my most hated managers. He is awful. He will ruin Homer's arm and waste our young talent and drive me crazy with his toothpicks. We might as well bring in Barry fucking Bonds and some other old-ass wash-ups to complete this moronic hire. Dusty Baker will kill me as surely as he killed Mark Prior and Kerry Wood and the Cubs.

Who hires a manager off of a league-worst record? What was Krivsky and/or Castinellini thinking? Can anyone be in charge of the Reds without dooming them to failure for the forseeable future? I don't know if Harang, Brandon, and Josh can dig us out of this hole. This has been some of the worst news I've ever had. Worse even than the fact that I just finished that last beer.

My thoughts are thus: yes, we wanted a "big name" hire, but how do you hose Pete Mackanin like that after the job he did for us? Why not at least wait until after the playoffs to see if Joe Torre is available? Did we even ever contact Joe Girardi? Cuz it sure seems we didn't. The only thing worse than this hire would have been Tony La Russa. I will gladly suffer through 3 or 1 and a half years of this dumbass to avoid the very real possibility of living with La Russa. I would have completed unholy acts to keep La Russa as far away from this franchise as possible. So Dusty Baker is a small -- extremely fucking microbial -- comfort.

I feel so so bad for Pete Mackanin. I am so sorry I'm out of beer. We better win the World Series for the next 3 years running.

The Dragon Reborn

2007-09-17T21:25:00.001-04:00

"Death is lighter than a feather, duty heavier than a mountain" -- The Great Hunt

I, along with many others of the sci-fi/fantasy fiction community, was greatly saddened to hear of the death of James Oliver Rigney Jr. aka Robert Jordan yesterday. Surprising as it may seem, I am not a fan of his work and magnum opus, the Wheel of Time series. Over the years the books were repeatedly suggested and thrust upon me until I finally caved and read the first two. I was not impressed.

However, in the past year and a half since learning of his tragic illness I have been impressed with the man over and over again. He maintained a semi-regular presence on his website, keeping his fans and well-wishers updated and informed about his illness and his determined goal to survive and beat the odds. How anyone, in the face of terminal sickness and a drawn-out almost certain death, could find the time and energy to devote to a community of readers is beyond me. He had huge demands with his health, frequent travel, and family and yet he still kept plucking along with his last book and offering his thoughts and prayers to those fans who shared their own stories of disease and despair. Goodness gracious, the man seemed so UPBEAT(!) about it all. I enjoyed his stories of time served in Vietnam, the information about his disease, and his Ali vs. Liston metaphors. I admired his struggle and awed at his courage in the midst of the inevitable.

So now my heart and thoughts go out to his widow, his family, his friends, and to all admirers worldwide of the author and his work. And I promise that someday down the road I will read all of those books.

Why so serious?

2007-07-30T22:32:00.000-04:00

"I knew the mob wouldn't go down without a fight, but this is different. They crossed a line."

"You crossed a line first sir. You hammered them; and in their desperation they turned to a man they didn't fully understand. Some men aren't looking for anything logical; they can't be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn."

The Boy of Summer

2007-07-24T18:58:00.000-04:00

It's a hot summer evening. It's magic time; the sun is setting and the fireflies are just beginning to celebrate. It's July of 2007. I am 11 years old. There is no school to worry about. There are no real commitments; every day now belongs to me. What will I do tomorrow?

I read all the time. I sit in the warm grass during the day and read. I stay up until the early morning hours at night reading in bed. I check out fifteen books at a time at the library, so many that I'll never have a chance to read them all. I read books about dinosaurs, books about medieval knights and battles throughout history, books about great military victories, books about sailing ships and pirates of the Spanish Main, books about wizards and mythical creatures and magical quests. I scour the supermarket for comic books and magazines. I devour X-Men, Amazing Spider-Man, Outdoor Life, and Sports Illustrated.

I spend hours listening to music on my portable CD player that I carry everywhere. I listen to Pearl Jam and Smashing Pumpkins and Guns 'n Roses. I listen to Johnny Cash and Alan Jackson and Tom T. Hall. I listen to whatever my dad has in his music cabinet. I think about taking up a musical instrument, maybe the banjo or guitar, but I know it will never happen.

I save up my money for weeks and weeks and finally when I have enough I buy the bike I've coveted for seemingly my whole life. It's blue and silver with nice shocks and fat tires. It's out of a dream. I ride to what I think are the ends of the Earth, pedaling my heart out to go as fast as possible, pedaling until my lungs and legs burn with equal measure. I take jumps and twisty trails and do stupid stunts so long that my body becomes a walking bruise. My shins are a collection of scratches, gashes, bumps, and scabs. I never wear a helmet.

I play too many video games.

I stay up late watching scary movies and Arnold Schwarzenegger actioners. I spend weekends at a time watching and thinking about and obsessing over Jurassic Park. I cannot get Velociraptors off my mind. I hear they are making a new Indiana Jones movie. I can't sit still I'm so excited. I still remember every detail of seeing the last one in the theater. Except for the parts I closed my eyes because I was too scared. I listen to the theme song for two and a half hours straight. I wish it was out already.

I ride my bike to the beach. I sit in the sun and watch all the boats off in the distance, wishing I could have my own to sail as I search for high adventure. They are all so white and sparkling set against the blue-green of the sea. I don't go swimming much because the water is cold and I'm a chicken. And for fear of sharks. I never wear enough sunscreen. And I don't tan well.

I eat WAY too much ice cream and sweets.

I listen to baseball games on the radio and pore over early morning box scores from the night before. I follow my favorite players and rifle through all my worthless baseball cards that are no less priceless to me. I wear my cap backwards like Ken Griffey Jr. and practice the home run stroke that I know will never materialize. Football season is just around the corner.

The summer nights are hot. I lie awake in bed many nights, my mind racing and the pillow soaked with sweat. After all these years of life I still don't like being alone in the dark. I am afraid of vampires, girls, and of dying. But I also dream. I dream of what I will be, what I will become. Will I be an artist? An animator, a comic strip writer, a novelist? Will I follow cold science and fact? A paleontologist, a herpetologist, an achaeologist, an astronomer? Or possibly a public servant? A police detective, a FBI forensics expert, a firefighter, or a United States Marine? Only time can tell.

It's a hot summer morning. The sunlight is too bright. It's still July of 2007. I am 24 years old. I'm hungover but I have to get up for work. I look in the mirror. My hair is thinner, my belly is rounder, and I need a shave. I'm caught in a maelstrom of living hard and hardly living. What will I do today?

Can't Buy Me Love

2007-07-18T21:56:00.000-04:00

AKA BEATLES DIVORCE COURT
What a Beatles night this turned out to be (lada's fault). I had a craving, so I started watching some old music videos from their early days while I popped over to Yahoo to check my mail. Ironically enough, there is a news update on Paul and Hag McCartney's disaster divorce. Typically I try to stay away from celebrity divorce news; it's their fucking private business -- not Star's or US Weekly's, and certainly not mine -- and they live in such a different world than me. Why bother? However, when it has to do with Paul and Hosebag I take notice.

This cheery lady reportedly wants 50 million pounds (!) -- I don't swear by my math but I think that's $105 mil -- to legally call it quits with Sir Paul McCartney. For what!? Because she seduced the guy and got pregnant with his kid? Fuck it...I'm biased as hell and maybe I should be more understanding of her plight (?), but she is a money-grubbing whore. What does she do? She is a...umm...model...and...err...celebrity dancer? And don't say charity work, because while that is admirable, that is also what rich people who don't have real jobs do for work to make themselves look good. Mother Theresa she ain't.

This woman says, "I am no gold digger", but she dumps her fiancé five days before the wedding for one of the richest guys in Britain? Hmm....I call bullshit on that. Congratulations on taking advantage of a lonely man probably still in mourning for the love of his life, so take the $40 million he's offering you and get your hands off my Beatle. Bitch.

My poor poor Reds

2007-06-19T22:55:00.000-04:00

Well, the Reds are beating the A's right now, but this has been a real tough stretch. I live and die with this team every night and I currently have one foot in the grave. Maybe I'm a baseball optimist or just in deep denial but I do believe that we can battle back in the bad Central and make it a race. Unfortunately, we are running out of time to turn it around because the rumor mill is turning and it sounds like Wayne Krivsky is in a selling mood. Dunn is almost a certainty to be gone, which makes me sad because I really like him a lot and the team hasn't lost a player I've loved for a long time -- since Barry Larkin was forced into retirement to be exact. He can be a mess on defense and the Ks kill, but I get a kick watching him hit and lumber around the bases. For God's sake, the guy hit a baseball into Kentucky! But if the deal's right and we get some good stuff in return from a Cali team then I can live with it.

But what would destroy me is if Griffey gets traded. Hopefully nothing works out that way and he doesn't agree to a trade. I have to think it would be hard to get rid of him, because he's having a good year and if he and Dunn both go then nobody is going to the park to watch the games. Junior has a very realistic chance to hit #600 this season; why miss out on the memories (and the ticket money) of him doing it in a Cincinnati uniform? If he does it for the Braves or someone else instead that's a whole lot of regret and bad feelings around town. But if it happens...I'd be devastated.

And all of this with me all set to buy one of the new replica jerseys and go to a couple of games this summer. And the numbers I was eyeing? #3 and #44...fucking shit.

Nation To Ken Griffey Jr.: 'We Wish It Were You Hitting 756 Home Runs'

CINCINNATI—Overcome with a mixture of distaste at the almost certain future and a wistful sense at the way things could and should have been, baseball fans across America took time to address veteran Reds superstar Ken Griffey Jr. yesterday...

So true...so true...fuck off Bonds.

Something can be done about extreme poverty

2007-06-11T21:35:00.000-04:00

Today I noticed a thoughtful commentary from Roger about poverty and aid in Africa hidden on CNN amongst all the Paris Hilton nonsense. It was of course almost immediately shunted off the front page and into backlog obscurity, so I figured I would give Rog a hand and post it here so people can actually read it. I believe it originated in the NY Times and can be found there as well. And here's more information on the Millennium Promise project. Rock on, Roger.

By Roger Waters

One dollar. It's the cost of a New York Times, less than half a cup of coffee at Starbucks. These days it's a paltry sum. Even less when you consider that right now, a billion people are struggling to survive on less than one dollar a day. This is what defines "extreme poverty."

What is life like on a dollar a day? Miserable, for the most part. It's living so close to the edge that any bad break -- an illness, a drought, a drink of dirty water -- can be fatal. Each day, 20,000 people in this condition die simply because they're too poor to live.

In Africa, extreme poverty means farmers hoping that their dusty patch of land will produce enough food to feed their families -- knowing that it won't. Extreme poverty means stunted children trudging miles every day to fetch drinking water that will probably make them sick. It means parents worrying constantly that their kids will die from something as simple as a mosquito bite because the local clinic (if there is one) lacks the medicine to cure malaria.

But, as I recently discovered, it doesn't have to be this way.

In 2005, I reunited with the other guys from Pink Floyd in London for the Live 8 concerts, which promoted debt relief, fair trade policies and increased foreign aid for poor countries. It was there I discovered a man named Dr. Jeffrey Sachs who has the bold notion that something can be done about extreme poverty. Even bolder, he's actually doing it -- and we can all help.

Dr. Sachs is a passionate advocate for the poor who also happens to be a renowned economist and adviser to world leaders. In 2005, he launched something called the Millennium Villages project, a joint effort between Millennium Promise, the Earth Institute at Columbia University, and the United Nations Development Program that is now operating in 79 of the poorest communities in sub-Saharan Africa (and, for that matter, the world).

Last year, I began supporting a Millennium Village in Potou, Senegal, a farming and fishing community near the west coast of Africa. I developed an interest in the country after a dear friend of mine, Phillip Constantine, married a Senegalese woman. Senegal, like many sub-Saharan African countries, is a malaria hot zone, where the disease accounts for 25 percent of hospital deaths. Tragically, Phillip died from malaria.

Potou is an especially inhospitable place to try to eke out a living. Sand dunes are creeping in and swallowing what little arable land there is. The crops that do grow are constantly threatened by drought and pests. There is hope, however: Millennium Villages are proving that -- even in places like this -- things can be done to improve people's lives and livelihoods.

The basic idea is to tackle all the things that cause extreme poverty at once in simple, cost-effective ways. Inexpensive seed and fertilizer are enabling farmers to double and triple their crops. Part of this surplus is being used for school feeding programs. For the first time, many of the students now get a free meal for lunch, and attendance rates and test scores are skyrocketing as a result.

Another reason students can go to school is that now, there's clean water in the villages -- no more trudging to get it -- the result of newly protected water sources or freshly dug borehole wells. We're tackling malaria as well: Free bed nets and medicines are reducing malaria infection rates by as much as 90 percent.

Success stories like these are inspiring people from all walks of life to join the fight against extreme poverty. For my part, I've been asking fans on my current tour to donate and get involved with Millennium Promise, an organization founded by Dr. Sachs to fight extreme poverty. In memory of my friend Phillip, I recently auctioned off a bass guitar, which raised more than $120,000 for bed nets for the organization.

I'm hardly alone. This month, the National Dance Institute in New York City is working with 25,000 inner-city youths to raise awareness about extreme poverty with Senegalese-inspired dance performances. Through their "Pennies for Potou" initiative, the kids are raising money for their peers in Senegal and trading letters with them.

People I talk to are shocked to find how relatively inexpensive the solutions to extreme poverty are -- 2 cents buys a de-worming pill, $1 provides a child school meals for a week, $10 buys a bed net that will protect two people from malaria for five years. At those rates, we can all play a part on the global stage and make a lasting change in the lives of people surviving on less than $1 a day. Think about that over your next New York Times and Starbucks coffee.

The Fanboy Express: making stops at Gotham, Eternia, Hogwarts, and the Seven Kingdoms

2007-05-30T21:19:00.000-04:00

After the air was let out of the Spidey 3* bag, I've been more than a little reserved about upcoming fanboy-oriented projects like Indy 4 and the Fantastic Four sequel aka Stormclouds of Cosmic Destruction (Do you hear Johnny shouting FLAME-OUT yet?). So to keep it simple and sweet here's a cheery list of things I'm looking forward to in the somewhat near future.

The Dark Knight Surprise, surprise. Wow, this movie just keeps on getting better and better. I read an article in USA Today yesterday about how Nolan is filming four select action scenes with IMAX cameras, including the Joker's big introduction. Can you believe I've never seen a commercial feature on of the big screens? How much are IMAX tickets? Everything from the Joker viral campaign to these evil clown stills has me looking into cryogenic chambers for the next year.
Psychometer reading: 5 out of 5 batarangs

A Dance with Dragons George R. R. Martin needs to finish this book already. I read today that he is doing a virtual reading at a virtual bookstore (?) on Second Life. How can you give a reading of a book that isn't published yet, let alone completed? And couldn't that time be better spent writing? So says the kid who shirks his own projects to write nerdy blogs. I guess an author with his success and following does deserve a little leeway fans, but I'm very anxious to find out whose asses Jon and Arya are going to kick in Vol. #5.
Psychometer reading: 4 out of 5 direwolves

Darren Aronofsky I finally saw The Fountain when I broke down and bought it last week. Ummmm......fucking phenomenal are two words that spring to mind. Brad Pitt and I should be ashamed for doubting. Critics are morons; one moment they are bemoaning the sad state of American cinema and wondering where all the intelligent, thought-provoking filmmakers are, and the next they are lambasting a quality picture with depth and emotional resonance as sci-fi taking itself too seriously. Smart play guys. I'm an idiot as well. I mentioned to someone how I thought Aronofsky would be one of those bright stars who makes a handful of films that no one truly appreciates for decades and then disappears. How wrong was I. Last I checked he was scheduled to direct Damon and Wahlberg in a true life Boston Irish boxing movie and he's writing a rad-sounding picture about a post-Ark Noah laden with alcoholism and survivor's guilt.
Psychometer reading: 4 out of 5 magic trees

The Clone Wars Hey hey my my, Star Wars will never die. I'm always up for some new Clone War stories and this show looks outstanding. If it is anywhere close to the level of quality that the Genndy Tartakovsky cartoon was it should be good.

That lightsaber fight between Anakin and Asajj Ventress in the rain is one of my favorite duels -- even more so than many of the ones found in the actual movies. The shot in this trailer of Anakin leaping from STAP to STAP in mid-air looks to be one of my favorite Star Wars/Anakin moments as well.
Psychometer reading: 5 out of 5 astromech droids

Harry Potter and the Quest for Dollars All satire aside, this summer marks the first time that I have been über-excited about the release of a Harry Potter book/movie. Ironically enough both types of media are close to release and I'm chomping at the bit for both of them. The movies have always seemed a little blah for me but the previews for this one look good. And while I've always been anxious but not crazy to grab the next volume of Harry's adventures, I can tell you that I will be in line on a summer July night for the midnight release of the final book. I'm eager to see how Rowling finishes her saga and to complete a series of fanboy midnight line releases. I've sat in line for Star Wars, LOTR, DVDs, comic books, video cassettes, and numerous other things, but never for a book or for a Harry Potter-related property. Here goes...
Psychometer reading: 4 out of 5 horcruxes

He-Man and the Masters of the Universe Of all of the '80s cartoon movies that are coming out soon (Transformers) or in development (Smurfs, Thundercats, G.I. Joe) I am most looking forward to the He-Man movie. And by that I mean it is the only one I am looking forward to. I was crazy for He-Man and his adventures as a kid and had every action figure/playset offered in the United States, including the undeniably badass Moss Man (who was really furry and smelled like soap -- God, toys were so much cooler back then). I am safely assuming Orko will be involved and Dolph Lundgren won't. Until then: By the power of Greyskull!
Psychometer reading: 3 out of 5 Battlecats

Hulk/Iron Man The Incredible Hulk is a character written for toddlers (HULK ANGRY!!!...HULK SMASH!!!) and Tony Stark is a ripoff of Bruce Wayne. I couldn't care less about these upcoming projects other than the fact that Jon Favreau and Robert Downey Jr. are behind Iron Man and that Louis Leterrier (Luc Besson's protege!) and Ed Norton are responsible for the big green monster. And for that both deserve a modicum of my respect.
Psychometer reading: 2 out of 5 power suits

The Dark Tower comics #5 comes out in a few days and let me tell you...that was a long month of May. These books have continued to blow away my expectations month-by-month. The entire crew of Jae Lee, Rich Isanove, Peter David, and Robin Furth have done a thrilling job of serializing young Roland's adventures in Mejis. You know it's a good series when I'm just as excited about the stories I already know as I am the ones I don't.
Psychometer reading: 5 out of 5 sandalwood revolvers and roses

The Golden Compass Have you seen the latest trailer for The Golden Compass!? New Line is playing up the LOTR connection a little much, but this movie looks phenomenal. It has enough to blow any age group away with Pan and the daemons, the action and effects, and the adult and religious themes. All I can say is WOW. Lada and I have a movie date to see this in December. Can't wait.
Psychometer reading: 5 out of 5 alethiometers

Terminator 4? Let's get one thing straight: the Terminator franchise is one that shouldn't have continued after the second movie. For me, those first two movies represent the best of Jim Cameron's work and the best of American sci-fi cinema. T2 is one of my favorite movies of all time. And the great thing about the movies is that the story was wrapped up in two movies. They didn't need a trilogy; they didn't need a saga. It was a two-movie story and the sequel was arguably the best of the two. Then they had to absolutely ruin the story with a third movie, which introduced a retarded new terminator and killed any themes that the previous two had introduced/trumpeted. I won't go into detail because I could rant for days about the disruption 3 caused to my life and my way of thinking. And here we go again because some dickheads bought out Mario Kassar and Co. for the creative rights of the Terminator franchise. We now have a fourth non-Arnold (not that Arnold was good for the 3rd movie; how does a cybernetic organism age like 12 years between appearances?...I'm sorry, I digress) movie and a terrible network show about Sarah Connor and young John. Weak.
Psychometer reading: 0 out of 5 neural net processors

*worst movie ever. The anecdote about this is that several films recieve this title. You know how the Olympic coordinator guy always claims it it the best Olympics ever? Well this is a similar train of thought. Those Olympics weren't that good and neither are these movies. Previous "worst movie(s) ever" were the Tomb Raider movie and Jurassic Park 3. Spidey 3 may not be the worst movie of all time but it sure is the latest to capture that title. Thanks a lot Sam Raimi. Worst movie ever.

Salutation to the gull

2007-05-28T23:30:00.000-04:00

Today after watching my baseball game I decided to take in the gorgeous day and go for a walk. It was the best sort of day one could hope for a Memorial Day; tempered by the threat of thunder and rain, but in the end showing its true face of clear sky, bright sunshine and cool breeze. There is something about the Damocles' Sword of forecast thunderstorms that makes the perfect day somehow more beautiful in its perfection.

My steps led me up the Salem Neck and over to the beach at Winter Island. I had not planned to visit the beach but was glad to find it my improvised destination. Before long I had stripped to my shorts and was scrambling over the rocks, bare feet finding their grip on pitted volcanic rock covered with barnacles and strewn-about black seaweed. Finally I set my station upon a singular boulder and sat and watched for the better part of two hours, absorbing the sun, the sights, the smells, and the sounds. I watched a group of men fishing on a nearby outpost of rocks. I watched the sea move and sway, so blue-green it was almost turquoise in some spots. I watched sailing ships and yachts of all forms come in and out of Salem Harbor, venturing out to dance between the waves. And I watched the gulls.

God, if you are listening and if reincarnation is an option I want to come back as a seagull. Is there a happier existence in all of Creation than that of a gull, circling and pinwheeling in the air, the sea wind tearing through your wings and holding you aloft? For all the years of my life I have looked down at gulls as filthy, annoying, base creatures and today for the first time I found myself wondering if I was simply jealous.

Oh, to live the life of a gull, sacrificing avian beauty for a raucous charm and vulgar grace. The gull forsakes the need to stand out in a crowd. He knows he is an independent and unique creature, but has no desire to be noticed or to be picked out as special from the rest of the flock. How he must pity the self-conscious peacock and swan who depend solely on their preening, shining feathers and serpentine necks. The gull shits where he sleeps, eats every kind of carrion and refuse, and looks every bit the ruffian he is, but he never shows that he is anything but content with who and what he is.

He is an oppurtunist, a showman, a rogue, a thief, and an adventurer. He is a skilled hunter, a clever scavenger, and an eager beggar. He is savvy and adaptable, equally at home in the bustle and noise of the city and the lonely seashore. He is both selfish and courageous, able to beat out all contention for a scrap of meat or work towards a common goal. I have watched gulls bully pipers and shorebirds only to turn around and divebomb a hawk to help a stricken brother.

And so I say to the gull, Brother of the Sea and Sky, I envy you and your life of free-spirited contentment. You have my respect to the end and never again shall an insult directed to you fall from my lips. I look forward to the day when I might join you, breathing in the salt air, seeking my sustenance from the sea, testing my feathered frame against the might of the sky and filling the world with noisy kee-aws.

I believe in Christopher Nolan

2007-05-28T22:08:00.000-04:00

Allright, so I lied. I previously said that I wasn't going to look at any spoilers for the next Batman movie, but I just have not been able to hold out. Although, I think it has worked out in my favor; earlier I was hoping for the best but expecting the worse and now I couldn't be happier or more confident in the direction the film is going in. And what got me so incredibly jazzed about The Dark Knight was this campaign image for Harvey Dent.

"I believe in Harvey Dent". That line is ripped right from the pages of one of the best Batman graphic novels ever written, The Long Halloween. I believe in Aaron Eckhart; he is going to make a great Harvey Dent. I hate to rip on Billy Dee, but he clearly was never right for the role -- and the character that Tommy Lee gave us was an outright abomination. This picture now resides as my desktop image at work and has officially started the Psych-a-thon that won't end until summer of 2008.

And if that wasn't enough on its own, the Warner Bros. marketing department landed a genius stroke a week ago after the original campaign website had been up for about a week. They set up another site with the url http://ibelieveinharveydenttoo.com/ that appeared to be hacked by the Joker. Harvey's face was colored over and given cartoonish red lips and black eye circles. And over the course of the next couple of days -- with cooperation from eager fanboys -- the image disentegrated pixel by pixel to reveal the first official picture of the Joker as played by Heath Ledger. The Joker's look was exactly what I was expecting/not expecting and simply going off that one picture it's clear to see that Nolan wants his film to earn every bit of its Dark Knight title. Keyword being dark. The Joker image has since been taken down and replaced with bunch of hahahas, but he promises to return in December (!) All in all very cool viral marketing, and they didn't even have to induce citywide panic in a major metropolitan area.

I believe in Christian Bale. I believe in Aaron Eckhart. I believe in Heath Ledger. I believe in Christopher Nolan. I believe in The Dark Knight.

Diamond woes

2007-05-23T23:10:00.000-04:00

Well, the Reds just lost again to the terrible Washington Nationals. Of course with that loss we are now only mere percentage points ahead of the Nats for the worst record in the league, so I guess we are terrible as well. However, I still don't think we are as bad as we have played; I know we are better than this, but the team is seemingly trying to prove me wrong. We are losing in increasingly creative ways and we can not seem to pull everything together at once to put together any sort of winning streak or set of good games.

The main culprit is obviously the bullpen. As Marty said a few weeks ago after yet another 8th inning collapse against Houston, "this bullpen is awful." They are so bad that they could not give up another run for the rest of the season and people would still be talking about how bad they are. Todd Coffey should be sprinting away from the ballpark instead of to the mound when his name gets called and Mike Stanton is clearly just out there trying to break a major league record for games appeared in and leads blown. David Weathers, the closer by default, has actually been pretty solid in save situations but when you give up 41 runs in the eighth inning (worst in the Majors) the guy never has a chance to see the ball. Krivsky needs to blow up this mess and send some of these guys packing.

I never thought I'd be saying this, but Kyle Lohse is making me hope for a speedy recovery for Eric Milton. Between April and May he has been like two different pitchers. Tonight's seven run atrocity marks his 6th straight loss and third straight completely abysmal outing. He is clueless and totally ineffective out there. He could throw the ball underhanded and get more guys out than what he's doing currently. Since his first bad game against the Cards about a month ago he has been flying down an oil-covered Everest slope on jet-powered skis. I can't believe I actually rostered him on my fantasy team at one point.

Bottom line is that we need to start winning games quick before we are out of this thing and the Dunn trade rumors start circulating. Not to mention that Junior and Brandon have been red-hot and we are just wasting it. One way or another we are surely bound to see Homer make his debut sooner than later.

In other baseball news, how pathetic are the people who actually bother to show up to Braves games? Leave it to these people, some of the worst fans in baseball, to boo Tom Glavine. The guy is only a Hall of Famer and one of the marquee players who contributed to your 14 consecutive division titles and put your franchise on the map. Fucking morons.

GIMME A 3-WAY PARLAY ON THE FALCONS, THE REDSKINS, AND VICK'S PIT OVER PORTIS' ROTTWEILER
After years of rooting for Vick to lead Atlanta to a Super Bowl, now I'm rooting for him to go to jail. When the prosecution comes out and indicts Vick for connection to this dogfighting mess (which it looks like is a near certainty), I hope the Virginia State Attorney and Roger Goodell tag-team and come down hard on him. It's great that the Commissioner is taking a stand against the thugs and criminals that get the privilege to masquerade as role models and millionaires, but Chris Henry and Adam (don't know no Pacman, just a kid named Adam) Jones are small potatoes compared to Vick. What a chilling message to send to any future pro athletes/soldiers out there: it doesn't matter if you have the fattest contract or that you are one of the league's most marketable stars; if you fuck up majorly, you are out of here. I hope if/when that time comes that Vick doesn't get away with this and Goodell sticks to his guns.

"Hey Ma, check out my cape!"

2007-05-17T21:42:00.000-04:00

I've always had an overactive subconscious resulting in some pretty radical and vivid dreams, but my latest rash of nighttime adventures have been particulary impressive. For the last month or so I have been having some extremely wicked superhero dreams. Even before I saw Spider-Man 3 I was web-slinging around urban cityscapes and not too long ago I had a totally sweet experience as Batman, escaping a Mob ambush in an abandoned warehouse with my trusty grappling gun. The latter was an especially intriguing dream; rather than simply watching a "dream-movie" I was directly interacting in an environment with definable dimensions. Add to those two with a great ride on the Silver Surfer's board and a turn as Green Lantern, flying and utilizing my power ring to good extent.

So with all these slumbering superhero experiences I have been wondering lately (certainly for not the first time) about what powers I would give myself if I was a caped and masked protector of truth, justice, and the American way. And rather than just appoint myself the second coming of Batman or Spidey I decided to pick and choose powers from a variety of comics greats. So please bear witness to the birth of the superhuman "Dunce Cap Marvel"!

My heroic attributes would include:

Bruce Wayne's brooding intellect and mental fortitude. What criminal's machinations or diabolical plot could escape my grim notice? I would have the sharpest detective mind in the world and an unwavering will to achieve any goal I set for myself.
Wolverine's heightened senses and healing factor. With my animal-like skills I could alert myself to any approaching threat or ferret out any previously-undiscovered clues. And who wouldn't want to slow the aging process and reverse major bodily harm?
Nightcrawler's superior agility and ability to teleport himself (minus the blue skin and freaky appearance). Plusses that are very fitting for me are his German heritage and devout Roman Catholicism. BAMF!
The Spirit's quick wit and levity in the face of danger and almost certain death. It takes incredible balls to be able to crack jokes and let loose with the insults when you're kicking ass and dodging bullets.
The Green Lantern's backup: what could be worse than being a superhero who has painted himself into a corner, trapped by your arch-nemesis and facing certain doom? Good thing you can put out an emergency call to the Green Lantern Corps. It certainly can't hurt to have 7,200 of your closest friends armed with the most powerful weapon in the universe having your back and ready to tag in.
The Incredible Hulk's origin story. I can't imagine a worse comic book character but you do have to give props to a guy who took a huge dose of gamma radiation full on and survived and thrived when 99.9% of the population would have simply gotten cancer and died.
Last but certainly not least I would take two things from Spider-Man. Whenever that radioactive spider bit him it must have imbued Peter Parker with some sort of insane skill-set that prevented vertigo and acrophobia and allowed him to pull crazy Gs while swinging through the Big Apple. I have got to have that. Secondly, I would take his girlfriends. Honestly how does a dork like Parker pull ass from the likes of Gwen Stacy, Mary Jane Watson, Betty Brant, and Black Cat!? It might not be a superpower per se, but I will take that ability any day of the week and before any of the others I've listed here; especially when Betty is embodied by none other than the amazingly hot Elizabeth Banks.

"Who knows what evil lies in the hearts of men? The Dunce Cap Marvel knows!" BAMF!

To spoil or not to spoil?

2007-04-30T22:42:00.000-04:00

So the question goes...as a diehard fanboy waiting for hyped flicks like The Golden Compass and The Dark Knight should I expose myself to all of the released information available to my resources or simply wait and see? As I see it, this is the biggest problem question for fanboys and one I have wrestled with for a wide variety of features that have been released in the last few years.

This all started with The Prequels (first of all, I love that the term prequels will always be associated with the Star Wars movies). Every fanboy worth his salt, including myself, leapt at every oppurtunity to know what the new Star Wars movies would involve. To my credit, after spoiling myself out for the first two, I went into Revenge of the Sith as spoiler-free as I could. This meant I knew about the Anakin-Dooku beheading and had seen General Grievous on a 12-pack of Mountain Dew: I swear to the Force that's all I knew.

Going into The Dark Knight I wanted to know just about everything: who was cast, the look of the characters, basic plot points, set pictures, etc. I am now rescinding that desire. I want to know nothing. Especially after the terrible shit I've seen in the last week or two. Heath Ledger as the Joker looks terrible, the Rachel Dawes-Katie Holmes-Maggie Gyllenhaal mess is just that, I'm not fond of the new Batsuit storyline, and Eric Roberts is a huge WTF!? casting. I no longer want to know anything about this movie, because I have been so disappointed with what I've seen. Hopefully Chris Nolan once again blows away my expectations, but I'm saving myself to see if that happens rather than expecting it.

So as of right now, I am done with spoilers for the moment. I know just about everything about the plot of Spider-Man 3 but beyond that I am keeping shit to myself. No more Golden Compass looks or news on Transformers. If you want it, find it out for yourself. Let's all just hope that Indiana Jones and the ____ turns out as good as we all think it won't.

The Sporting News

2007-04-07T13:19:00.000-04:00

Well, after a long winter's wait and an exciting Spring Training for the Reds in Sarasota, baseball season if finally here. I could not be happier. I sprung for mlb.tv so I could watch Cincy games on my computer (listening to the game against the Bucs as I type; Dunn just hit a two-run homer off the centerfielder's glove!). It's been nice coming home after work to baseball, especially when I get home team broadcasts. Listening to Marty and all the UDF/Frisch's/Skyline commercials makes me yearn for a visit back to the Queen City soon. I hope to make it there for about 5-6 games at Great American this summer, including in August for my birthday when the Braves make the trip up.

I'm thrilled about this season; I think the Reds have a great oppurtunity to make it to postseason play and do some exciting things. Moving Junior to right was the right decision, Dunn has looked better at the plate, and the pitching is getting off to a hot start. Bronson and Harang should improve on their win totals of last year and I was very impressed with Matt Belisle last night. The bullpen should be a helluva lot better too. Should be a good race to the playoffs in the NL Central and I say it comes down to us and the Brew Crew. As long as the Cubs are exposed as the frauds I have prophesized they are all preseason.

So a couple of weeks ago there was a huge fracas about Pete coming out and saying that he bet on the Reds every night. Not a big deal, I repeat, not a big deal. I wish everyone would just let him alone. I don't care that he bet on them, least of all every night. If anything it shows his competitiveness and desire to win every game they played. Sure it was wrong and sure he probably deserves to never be involved in managing or baseball operations again, but I wish everyone would let it all go and let him in Cooperstown already. Obviously I'm biased with my sports hero worship here, but come on. Let it go.

And a few quick singles:

I'm a big fan of the new look unis for the Reds. The sleeveless, black look was just not really working for this club. I like the traditional red and white style. And welcome back Mr. Redlegs!

How disgusting is it that Florida won the basketball national championship again!? That is back-to-back-to-back championships now for them. Is it too much to ask that UF fail at everything they attempt? Florida should be limited to excelling at mullets and jean shorts. That big game in Jacksonville this year is just going to be that much bigger now.

I would hate to be a Chicago sports fan. Bears management seems to be trying to run the organization into the ground and once again Mark Prior and Kerry Wood are nowhere to be found.

As always, here's hoping that Barry Bonds shreds his elbow or both his knees simultaneously explode.

Back, but not in black

2007-04-04T21:51:00.000-04:00

THAT FICKLE MISTRESS
It's a real beautiful day in April when it fucking snows. Honestly, last week I was wearing shorts here and now it looks like two weeks of garbage weather flirting around the 35-45 range with rain every day? I don't have a problem with Massachusetts winters, but this shit is completely uncalled for. Especially when it's in the 70s and two days later...

CLEARLY NOT IRISH
...it's fucking snowing 8 inches. Yeah, St. Patrick's Day in Boston officialy blew this year. Originally my cousins were coming in to celebrate like last year. They had to cancel this go around; no big deal. I had buddies coming in from Chicago and Georgia to replace them. After a "No Snow" winter who would have thought 6+ inches would have dumped on us deep into the month of March. Of course, American airports followed the trend of ineptness and no one got in or out of Boston. I said sayonara to my buddies and curled into a ball. In addition, my phone broke and I missed out on every piece of tin whistle/fiddle/uilleann pipe music there was in metro Boston. But I did get really drunk.

GEORGIA ON MY MIND
A few weeks ago I did visit Atlanta after a long absence from the town. I returned to find that nothing had changed and the place still sucks. Although it was nice to see cute blonde Southern girls in short skirts, including one of my very own. It was a vacation I sorely needed. Georgia was okay; I have missed the availability of Chick-Fil-A but couldn't have cared less about the smell of the dogwoods and the half inch of pollen covering the ground.

A true American hero

2007-03-13T20:06:00.000-04:00

Today on cnn.com I watched a news story. For once, an honest to God news story, and not the latest update on Paris and Britney or some other fluff piece that CNN seems so content to be putting out these days. The story told about how a man in Egypt, a kid really, decided how he wasn't really comfortable with the status quo and thought he would speak up about it. He is now sitting in a jail cell for the next four years.

Abdul Kareem Nabeel Suleiman grew up in Alexandria and attended the Islamic school system there his whole life. On his blog he describes himself as a "down to earth Law student" looking forward to opening his own human rights law firm dedicated to helping all people against discrimination and violence, especially women. Wow, nice guy with some pretty humanitarian goals right? Not according to the Egyptian government. He criticized radical Islam and his religious teachers on his blog and was punished by being expelled from school and arrested and jailed by Egyptian authorities. His crimes? Inciting hatred towards Islam (3 years in jail) and insulting the Egyptian president (1 year in jail). Not to mention that his own parents disowned him and his father asked that he be executed if he did not repent or recant his writings.

I grew up loving America and her values and the men and women who have spent their lives pursuing and defending her freedoms. However, I am very guilty of taking these freedoms for granted, especially the freedom of speech. I think we all do. Nothing against our boys in Iraq and Afganistan but I think this kid from Egypt deserves our support just as equally. As far as I am concerned, the freedom and ability to speak and dissent without fear of reproach is the most sacred right we own. For any human being anywhere to be punished for expressing themselves is a great crime against humanity.

But why is he an American hero? I think this because he is brave enough to support his views for change and tolerance upon pain of death. I feel that he can remind us of who we are, what we are made of. When is the last time Americans were made to feel revolutionary, to feel that they were responsible for real change in the world? If there's a way to win the war in the Middle East it has to be by supporting these people who stand up for change and democracy in their regimes and social orders. Military victory will not completely solve the problem. As Americans, we need to be champions of justice and human rights for every corner of the globe, not just from Seattle to San Diego to Bangor to Key West. We need to be proud of our role as moral compass to the world and work to promote human values everywhere, especially in nations who would call us their allies. I implore you Dear Readers: do everything you can to support Kareem and his cause. Visit the site, educate yourselves, write your local representatives and the Egyptian officials. Do what you can and help work toward world democracy and tolerance. This isn't something that only affects the people of Egypt and the Middle East. This is an American issue and Kareem is an American hero.

The Cinefile: 2006 Wrap Up

2007-02-26T23:06:00.000-05:00

What a year, what a year! I somehow feel that 2006 will go down as a good year in the short, short history of cinema; there were so many good movies this year it seemed almost anything had a shot to be nominated for Best Picture. Unfortunately, I didn't get to watch the Oscars for the third year running (no TV this time) but believe me when I tell you that I followed them as closely as I could via oscar.com. I probably refreshed that page 1000 times last night.

And before I go any further I just want to say: Marty, Marty, Marty...I am so happy for you! I can only imagine what it must have been like to finally hear your name called and to raise that golden statue after such a long and amazing career in the "pictures". Maybe winning an Oscar doesn't necessarily reflect what you have given us for so many years; for God's sake I hope you know you were beyond Oscars before the Eighties, but know how important is was to you and to us fans of yours. You have made kids like me realize that working in film is not only a viable way to make a living, but that it's possible to be GREAT at it. You help build dreams and that is a beautiful thing; if I had my way, you would have 5 or 6 Oscars. Please don't ever stop, don't Ever STOP.

I have to say that Oscar night left me pretty happy. I wish that Peter O'Toole would have finally won that acting award he so deserves, but Forrest Whitaker is a phenomenal alternative. Seeing Scorcese win made me eternally happy and Alan Arkin coming out of nowhere to win over Eddie Murphy was a huge bonus. Some other Oscar thoughts:

- I'm sorry, maybe it makes me weird or perverted, but Helen Mirren is a beautiful, beautiful woman. If I reach the age of 60 (God be good) and my wife looks that good I will be more than thankful.

- Hey Reese...congratulations on making my power rankings.

- I don't really understand why everyone was making such a big deal about the black actors and actresses nominated. I could see why it was big when Denzel and Halle won a few years ago, but all I see now is great performers being rewarded for their achievements. Between this and the Super Bowl, I think the media needs to give the American populace a little credit.

- I somehow get the feeling that Leo is going to be the new Peter O'Toole. A lot of nominations, but for some reason no one feels fit to give him the win.

- I hate to say it, but I guess American Idol works.

- These are my guys. MY GUYS! Well, actually go ahead and take out Coppola and put in Jim Cameron and then we'll be good. Still, what a great picture. The best of their generation.

2006 was a good movie year. I hope it continues and we have a good one coming for 2007 (even though I doubt that with shit like Ghost Rider and The Number 23). No matter that a lot of critics have decried that this will be the worst movie year in ages, I think we have a lot of promise. For God's sake, you have to optimistic about a year that includes a new 'Spider-Man' movie! These were my favorites from last year, Academy Awards or not:

My favorites from 2006:

The Departed
Pan's Labyrinth
Little Miss Sunshine
Casino Royale
The Prestige
United 93
Dead Man's Shoes (2004)
The Proposition (2005)
Brick (2005)

Beer Water Ink

2007-02-24T15:45:00.000-05:00

THOUGHTS, QUESTIONS, & DISCOVERIES DURING MY SATURDAY ERRANDS
- Tad Williams is the writer for the new Aquaman series that starts in March. The trend of NY Times Bestselling authors and mainstream comics is continuing. Also, is Thomas Jane supposed to be the basis for the look of Steve Niles' Cal McDonald character? ( it would appear after later research that, yes, he is)

- I am deep in the swoon of baseball fever. Spring Training is here and we are gearing up for fantasy baseball at work. My outlook for the Reds is high; they have so much competition in a good division but I honestly think the pitching staff will perform like no one is expecting them to and carry them to the playoffs. I am so excited to see Homer Bailey pitch!

- After winter temperatures in the teens and wind chills in the single digits, a sunny 35 degree day with a slight breeze feels like summer. I'm walking down the waterfront in just a pair of jeans and a hooded pullover and I couldn't be more comfortable. I can't imagine why so many people bitch about the cold; half of the time it's all just in your head.

- Is suicide still a sin against God if a single bullet in the head is your only option against being attacked by a horde of flesh-eating zombies and coming back as one of them?

- My last few months here have made me realize how much I missed living by the sea. Watching boats come and go from harbor, the rays of sunlight glancing off the water, the horizon that seemingly stretches to infinity and nowhere, the salt breeze filling your nostrils. Even the annoying flocks of dirty seagulls have been welcoming. How did I stay away from the ocean for so long?

How I spent my long weekend or why non-rev travel can ruin your day

2007-02-22T21:25:00.000-05:00

Hello Dearest Readers. Sorry I've been away so long; February has been a beast of a month and it has taken a lot out of me in the past weeks. The Big D keeps threatening to beat me down and I have been stressed out by about 97 things this side of next Tuesday. In order to take a little break from my life and the aching miasma that is my brain I decided to take a couple of vacation days, add them to the holiday weekend (thanks George, Abe...sorry Mr. Harrison), and go visit lada in her palmetto paradise. CUE THE HAZARD CARD!

I spent the better part of Saturday and Sunday in Logan Airport (not again!) bumped, stuck, passed over, and left behind. It was a complete clusterfuck. I don't know if it was the fault of Midwestern storms, JetBlue, or the terrorists, but everything was a mess and I never had a shot of getting out of Boston until Tuesday at the earliest. I waved my no-longer relaxing, now-a-complete failure of a vacation goodbye and came home and cracked a beer. I ended up just staying home on Tuesday and Wednesday anyway, partly because I need to use the vacation days before April and mostly because I was strung out and wanted to sleep in.

OTHER RANDOM DELIGHTS
I thought this vid was fabulously entertaining and good for a laugh. lada wasn't as enthralled; she must not be of the Lean/Python epic nonsense set.

This guy is wicked awesome. I breezily thought about doing something like this a few years ago. Not to say that I came up with the idea independently; I probably had seen something like this that resurfaced from my subconscious. Regardless, I don't have the discipline or unyielding ambition for something like this. I hope I'm able to watch it all the way to its ending.

My porn star name is Inky Hardy (childhood pet + current street name). That gave me a laugh. What's yours?

Firestarter

2007-01-31T23:02:00.001-05:00

AS IF IDIOTS WITH MOONINITE LITE BRITES WEREN'T ENOUGH
I am beginning to think that I have some latent powers of destruction that are now blossoming within me as I go about life unknowingly. That, or I brought one helluva batch of bad luck to the North Shore when I moved here. Anyway, these little minor disasters keep popping up around here.

It started the night before Thanksgiving when a chemical plant in nearby Danvers exploded and flattened an entire residential area. I had been living here literally for only a couple of months when this happened. It didn't make national news headlines since miraculously no one was killed (not sensational enough for the media, I guess) but trust me: this was and still is the talk of the town up here. The place looked like a bomb went off, and it certainly sounded like it too. It woke me up at 3 in the morning and had everyone in my house convinced that a plane had crashed in Salem. It also badly damaged the neighboring marina, which brings us to yesterday.

Last night, somehow unbeknownst to me, an entire fucking marina burnt to the ground not a block away from my house on the other side of the House of Seven Gables. I didn't even know that this place was there, it is so tucked away. Thank God the firefighters got there right away and contained the blaze extremely effectively so it didn't spread to my apartment or worse, the Gables (Heaven forbid!). And no one was hurt either. I cannot stress to you enough how close this place is to where I am standing right now typing this. I am completely baffled as to how I missed out on the action; I got home right when they were in the thick of fighting the fire, but I simply walked inside and made dinner. I didn't notice any sirens or blue lights or leaping orange flames at all. So much for my wonderful powers of observation; my Spidey-sense must have been turned off for the evening. I will have to check out the site tomorrow morning on my way to work.

Moral of the story: All I know is, if I'm the owner of the marina up in Marblehead, I'm thinking it's probably a good time to take out some extra insurance.

I am Mr. Matheson's bastard son

2007-01-30T23:16:00.000-05:00

NIGHTMARE AT 20,000 FEET
A few weeks ago I went to Minnesota to go to my parents' house for the week since I didn't get a chance to go home for Christmas. Of course I was glad to be able to go and spend time with my folks, but that unfortunately involved flying there and back. I get pretty nervous during air travel and being thousands of miles above the Earth, which isn’t really all that surprising -- being that I get nervous or frightened about a hell of a lot of things, both practical and nonsensical.

However, the thing with flying is that I used to love it. I mean absolutely LOVED it. And I’ve flown a lot of hours in my lifetime too; my dad used to work for a prominent airline that had to declare bankruptcy, so we flew all around the world for no cost when I was a kid. I’ve flown in jumbo jets, prop planes, and float planes. I’ve flown into about every major airport, across the length of the country, and over the world’s two greatest oceans. Short flights, long flights, clear weather, lightning storms, and turbulence: I’ve done it all. I also have an early memory of going up in a hot air balloon, although that may just be a concoction of my mind.

So why the fear of flying? I honestly don't know where it comes from. From what I can tell, it seems to have started roughly six years ago. And I know what you're thinking, but I don't think it has anything directly to do with 9/11. I flew to Chicago not long after that happened and don't remember being freaked out. I think it has more to do with my mental state as I have gotten more and more anxious and prone to panic attacks over the years. Or maybe it has to do with mellowing with age, and becoming more cognizant of my own mortality.

Regardless of whatever it is though, the minute I step on board and take my seat my mind is racing and I am sweating profusely. By the time we touch down at the destination my khakis will be soaked from rubbing my wet palms on my thighs for two hours straight. Flying also makes me the most devout man on the planet. From taxiing to the runway to throughout the entire takeoff and climb, I am offering up about a thousand variants of prayers to the Almighty for safe passage. Once airborne and at cruising altitude, I start inventing a multitude of disaster scenarios. The reasons for the plane's soon-to-be-crash range from the practical (engine failure) to the impractical (the wings simply shearing off) to the political (terrorists) to the fantastical (gremlins) to even the comedic (the pilots suffering from food poisoning and the flight attendant not being versed in the proper emergency fellatio protocol).

So to distract myself from this kind of thinking I have to come up with ways to trick my mind into a lull. An engrossing book is a must. Sometimes a shot or two at the airport bar can steel the nerves, but typically just makes me edgier so I generally avoid any alcohol before and during the flight. I do math and tell myself that flight attendants do this as a job. This last time, I took my laptop for the first time and watched movies, which helped greatly. You would think sleeping would be perfect; however, this is almost always the worst strategy. Even when I sit in first class it's impossible to get comfortable enough to achieve anything other than a restless half-sleep. And the slightest bump of turbulence wrenches me out of my fever dreams to choke on my own breath. These are my coping strategies for this particularly phobia; I muster up a quiet dignity and suffer through it as best I can. And you can bet your ass that as soon as we reach the gate I'm throwing up a few hallelujahs in thanks to the Old Man.

THE INCREDIBLE SHRINKING MAN
Candidates for the future Mrs. Dunce Cap Marvel beware. I am possibly the worst domestic mind of our generation. A few days ago I did laundry for the first time at the new apartment. The new sweater I just bought at Eddie Bauer last week is now the newly shrunken sweater I just bought. I fuck up so many new clothes it's not even funny. I am also an abysmal seamster (?), a complete lackwit when it comes to ironing, and quite adept at staining shirts to only further ruin them with bleach. Someday when I am a rich and powerful blogger with a book deal all of my dirty, stained, and buttonless clothes items will go to a lucky individual who will launder and mend them for the cash that I press into his or her palm. But never fear ladies...I can cook, so submit those résumés!

Well, that was the office Christmas party from Hell

2007-01-20T20:58:00.000-05:00

Last night my company had its annual office Christmas -- excuse me, "holiday" -- party in Boston. Why hold a "holiday" party after the holidays on a meaningless Friday night in January, I don't know. I wasn't originally going to go because I've been feeling moody and antisocial lately, but I figured since I'm down to eating bologna sandwiches and Ramen for the next two weeks I would at least show up for the free food, have a couple drinks, and catch the late train home to Salem. Little did I know...

The thing was held at this Dave & Buster's rip-off right next to Fenway Park complete with open bar, buffet, and six bowling lanes reserved for our company. It started out decently: a couple of cold beverages, some food, awkward conversation with co-workers. And then what will be known as the "Splenectomy" happened. Most people were more intested in the bar than the bowling and somewhere during the night, the management decided to sell our unused private lanes to the bowling public. However, we had booked and paid for the lanes for the night, whether we were putting them to use or not. Upon discovering this in attempting to start a game, several people took issue with the management, including a spouse of an office employee. This guy, who could easily pass for Tim Burton and whose name was -- no kidding here -- Spleen Ect, in a fit of rage, threw down a full drink and wound up in his best Bronson Arroyo impression, slamming his bowling shoes to the floor one by one. Needless to say, he was promptly escorted off the premises by a couple of hulking gorillas. As a result of this our open bar was prematurely shut down a full 30 minutes before our original time.

So now a large group of people want to hit up another bar in a different part of town to rectify the lacking alcohol situation. We end up at this most clubbiest of all clubs located on the basement level on a Marriott hotel. Strobe lights, dance music, pulsating bodies in the dark -- not my kind of place. What makes the experience somewhat enjoyable is that one of the members of our party is an absolute baller who spends a lot of money there and knows everyone. We arrive to find we have an entire VIP room sectioned off for us, complete with the requisite cordon and private security guard. It was like something out of Entourage. Not something I'd like to make a habit of, but a definite experience.

Now the place is closing down for the night, it's past two in the morning, I've missed my scheduled midnight "talk" with my ex-girlfriend, and HOW THE HELL AM I GOING TO GET HOME TONIGHT!? The problem does become resolved but not before a trip to Malden, a party full of rowdy Kenyans, a brief encounter with local law enforcement, some very aggravating and bleary-eyed designated driving, and a long, cold walk over the Essex Bridge from Beverly to Salem. I got home at approximately a quarter to six this morning. Yippee.

When Augie Doggie turns into Cujo

2007-01-17T11:54:00.000-05:00

Today the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists moved the minute hand of the Doomsday Clock to 11:55 -- two minutes closer to the end of the world. The reasons for humanity's hastening destruction are the usual suspects: terrorism, nuclear standoffs, global warming, the bird flu, and Pat Robertson. However, there is a far more terrible threat to the citizens of Earth that should be added to America's docket of fear. This brutal enemy has lived side by side with humans since the Middle Ages and came to America along with our colonial precedessors. Of course this lurking menace I am speaking of is the pit bull.

It seems every time I look up someone new has been mauled by a pit bull. I had originally started this post a couple of weeks ago, but had tabled it until I saw that yesterday another little girl was killed by her neighbor's dog. This comes a week after a toddler was killed by her uncle's pit bull in the UK, and two weeks after a teenage boy in backwoods Tennessee was attacked and mauled by a pack of wild pit bulls before his neighbor chased them off. The week before Christmas a pair of pits in the Boston area jumped into a family's livestock paddock, killing their miniature horse and severly wounding their other horse.

I don't know exactly what the solution is, but something certainly needs to be done to curtail a disturbing trend that is on the rise nationwide. The libertarian in me rails against passing laws that make owning pits illegal, such as the one that exists in Great Britain and in many states across the country. The Georgia legislature was considering such a bill before I left and I was originally all for it, but reading social scientist/columist Malcolm Gladwell's thoughts on the topic changed my mind.

Yes, pit bulls and similar breeds can be extraordinary vicious and aggressive dogs, but so can other dogs like German Shepherds and Golden Retrievers. The French woman who had the face transplant was mauled by a Lab, which is seen as a loving family pet. There is even a documented case of a fatality involving a Pomeranian. I am very mistrustful of an animal that was specifically bred to bait bulls and bears, but I certainly realize that not every pit is a cold-blooded killer.

The real problem starts with the owner, and in just about every fatal attack case I have looked at the dog's owner was incredibly irresponsible and ill-suited to have the dog. And it certainly doesn't help to have idiots like Joey Porter (his pit bulls killed a horse), Latrell Sprewell (his pit bull tore his daughter's face off and he still refused to have it put down), and multitudes of rappers sporting pit bulls as status symbols, as if the dogs were jewelry. Whatever the answer, something does have to be done. The pit bull population is growing along with America's fascination with the breed and the issue is not going to just go away.

A place to call my own

2007-01-15T23:32:00.000-05:00

HOME SWEET SALEM
Big day today…not only is this the one year anniversary of the start of this blog, but today I moved into my new apartment. Naturally, I celebrated with a $5 bottle of Brut champagne. It’s incredible that in the span of a year my life has changed so much. Not only has this blog taken on a life of its own that I never would have suspected, but I have entirely uprooted myself, moving to an opposite corner of the country in the pursuit of creative inspiration and a better state of mind.

And even though I have no furnishings and am surrounded by only my necessities (the Bible and the Qur’an, my Star Wars movies, reference books on folklore and mythology, histories of the colonial Americas, my notebooks, and my volumes of Lovecraft and Poe), I could not be more thrilled. I finally have an entire place of my own, complete with a kitchen and a bathroom I am not required to share. It isn’t perfect: the floors are uneven, there is no closet space to speak of, the bathroom tile is splattered with white paint, the pipes are loud, the extra room is painted a garish rosy pink, and the washer and dryer are situated in a root cellar that is more suited to the height of a hobbit than that of a man a few inches north of six feet.

But what can one expect from a house that was built in the early part of the 19th century? There may not be a right angle to be found in the carpentry and the little door that hides the brick oven is a little creepy, but the whole house lives and breathes HISTORY. The essence of it is frighteningly tangible and I just know if I listen closely enough I will be able to hear the lingering voices of the past. I am so excited to be here that I find myself wondering if sleep will be scarce tonight.

New year, new digs, and a lot of miscellaneous nonsense

2007-01-02T21:34:00.000-05:00

BITTER BOBBY LEARNS A LIFE LESSON
What a difference a week makes. On Christmas Eve I'm stranded in the airport, alone for yet another holiday, and determined to be the most dejected and put upon human being in the history of the planet over the course of the next seven days. At the end of said week, I have scored not only a big bonus for working late during the holidays but the sweetest apartment I could have possibly imagined. Our Golden Books moral of the day? Don't dwell on the bad times lest you miss out on the good ones around the bend.

So, yes, I did land the apartment. Starting the 15th of this month I will live in the first floor of a house that sits directly across from the House of Seven Gables and four houses from the ocean. I live on a one-way street towards the quiet end of Salem's waterfront. If I didn't have the arm strength of a wet spaghetti noodle I could throw a stone to Pickering Wharf. Most of the houses in my neighborhood were built in the 19th century and I am surrounded by quaint little shops and restaurants, including the first commercial candy store in the United States (which makes the most exquisite turtles...so much for my New Year's diet). No excuse for not getting work done now; I have found my writer's nook.

THE BEST DAY EVER
As good as I have felt the last couple days, I would kill to be in Ian Johnson's shoes. Boise State orchestrates one of the best college football finishes ever to upset a major program, this kid runs in the final 2 point conversion to win the game, and then rushes over to ask his cheerleader girlfriend's hand in marriage. Not to mention that he is the nation's leader in touchdowns scored. Congrats Mr. Johnson and thanks for the amazing story. If only you played for Georgia*.

LLAMAS, WOOKIEES, AND A SHITLOAD OF FLOWERS
As good as the Fiesta Bowl turned out to be, I still would have preferred to make the trip to Pasadena for the Rose Bowl. I couldn't hate the two teams playing in the game much more, but it would have been worth the trip just for the parade. George Lucas as the Grand Marshal of the Rose Parade!? The city of Theed and the forest moon of Endor --complete with the requisite Ewoks-- built entirely out of flowers!? Stormtroopers marching down Main Street in military formation!? Chewbacca waving to the crowd while the brass of the 'Imperial March' fills the air!? I don't know if my little geek heart could stand it all...

I JUST LOVE YOUTUBE
It's amazing what just a little quick editing can do. These recut movie "trailers" seem to be all the rage online these days and I have to say that I am a big fan. Enjoy.

Shining

Scary Mary

Office Space

Ten Things I Hate About Commandments

Planes, Trains, & Automobiles

*I am still furious at myself that I missed the UGA v. Virginia Tech game. I somehow thought that the Peach Bowl was on New Year's Day and went shopping in Boston instead. I still could have made it but I barely missed the 8:30pm Beverly train as it pulled away from North Station. The next train didn't get me home until about 11pm and I walked into the sports bar to see the last 5 seconds of regulation tick off the clock. [sigh] At least we won...

Change of scenery?

2006-12-31T12:01:00.000-05:00

I am so damn nervous right now. The last few days I have casually been putting around craigslist looking for a new place. The reason? I am sick to death of living in this dump of a house. Having to share a bathroom, enduring cackling hyena woman, the guy down the hall who smells like he hasn't showered since 1978, no heat to speak of...it's all just a little too much. But hopefully that's all about to change.

So I find what looks to be a pretty nice place in Salem. I really love Beverly and wasn't planning on moving to Salem, but this place is in a good location, includes all the utilities, and is a decent price. After checking out another apartment on the other side of Salem this morning, I decided to walk over and check out the street this place is on. Turns out it is right across the street from the fucking House of Seven Gables! I am all but decided that I'm taking this apartment; though a paltry two hundred years separate us, I could be neighbors with Nathaniel Hawthorne!

I came home straight away to email the landlady back; I would have sprinted over the Essex Bridge if the sidewalks weren't covered with ice and slush. I am so anxious about hearing back from this lady. My hands haven't stopped shaking, my stomach is in knots, and I am sick with worry that she won't get back to me or that I'll somehow lose out on this apartment. I really wish she had left her phone number in the ad. Wish me luck...

Making like Kevin McCallister

2006-12-24T22:08:00.000-05:00

I am not having a good run when it comes to the holidays. After not making a flight to Minnesota today, I'm spending Christmas Eve in my room with only Al K. Hall for company. And he's not very good at cheering me up. Thanksgiving was a disaster; I got completely soused, lost my keys, gashed my face open, and spent the whole night outside in the freezing rain. And last year I spent my Christmas Eve with society's best and brightest in the wonderful environs of the Athens-Clarke County jail. With that said I've got a few quick shout-outs for this Christmas:

The Denver blizzard for doing such a bang-up job of turning a normally hectic traveling season into an absolute clusterfuck and creating an endless backlog of missed flights and stranded passengers.
The bartender at the airport Hilton, where I spent much of last night, for keeping the Sam Adams' Winter Lagers coming.
Boston's Logan airport. If I ever again must spend a miserable, sleepless night on a cold tile floor waiting for an early-morning flight I hope it's here.
The woman directly in front of me on the standby list for the first flight to Atlanta for jettisoning her kids and preventing me from claiming the last remaining seat on the airplane.
My dumbass for listing on the connecting flight to Atlanta when I really meant to go to Cincy.
Jesus.

Merry Christmas everyone.

Hot actress power rankings

2006-12-19T13:15:00.000-05:00

STEP INTO MY TRAILER MS. _
Just a quick explanation here. I like lists and ranking systems. I hate them for the waste of time that they are, but I always seem to get sucked into the VH1 'Top 100 _' shows. I know the American Film Institute's Top 100 films of the 20th century by heart. And come football season I'm always eager to see how the BCS and NFL power rankings are gonna shape up week to week. I also love gorgeous, talented actresses. Ever since my first Hollywood crushes Christina Ricci (Addams Family) and Kirsten Dunst (Interview with the Vampire) I have always had certain actresses that I have found terribly fetching and whose work I like to follow. So that's basically the germ of this little project; daydreaming about when I become a big-time Hollywood director and the lovely ladies that I would love to work with and/or be romantically involved with. Enjoy, and if you think me pathetic, please remember that I haven't had a date in about a year.

*The parentheticals are career highlights that are personal favorites of mine. I also put up the original list that I referred to when putting together this one. It's in February 2006.

Others receiving votes: Jennifer Connelly, Ziyi Zhang, Elizabeth Banks

15) Naomi Watts (King Kong) [NR]

14) Uma Thurman (Kill Bill) [-6]

13) Kate Beckinsale (Underworld) [-8]

12) Selma Hayek (Desperado) [NR]

11) Natalie Portman (Léon the Professional) [-4]

10) Keira Knightley (Love Actually) [-6]

9) Rachel Weisz (The Mummy Returns) [NR]

8) Anne Hathaway (The Devil Wears Prada) [NR]

7) Katherine Heigl (Bride of Chucky) [NR]

6) Scarlett Johannson (Lost in Translation) [-]

5) Rosario Dawson (25th Hour) [NR]

4) Charlize Theron (Monster) [-1]

3) Jessica Alba (Sin City) [-1]

2) Catalina Sandino Moreno (Maria Full of Grace) [-1]

1) Eva Green (Casino Royale) [NR]

What the hell happened to Christianity?

2006-12-18T10:36:00.000-05:00

I was surfing around on CNN last week and this article by Jay Bakker caught my eye. If you don't know, he is the son of the infamous 80's televangelists Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker. He now has his own ministry that he runs out of a bar and has a reality show as well. I actually met him in high school when he came and talked to a bunch of kids before classes (I think it was a FCA meeting). After growing up in ultra-conservative Georgia with tons of Southern Baptists running around, I tend to throw all of Protestantism under the bus because of a few nutjobs out there. So it's nice to see people like Jay show me that I shouldn't be too quick to judge either and to be careful with that brush I'm holding. People nowadays associate Christianity with a lot of things, good and bad, but I think tolerance and openness should come into renewed focus once again. I thought I would go ahead and publish the article in its entirety on this site because he has some nice sentiments which also reflect a lot of my own views. Or if you want, check out the original CNN article here.

By Jay Bakker and Marc Brown

What the hell happened? Where did we go wrong? How was Christianity co-opted by a political party? Why are Christians supporting laws that force others to live by their standards? The answers to these questions are integral to the survival of Christianity.

While the current state of Christianity might seem normal and business-as-usual to some, most see through the judgment and hypocrisy that has permeated the church for so long. People witness this and say to themselves, "Why would I want to be a part of that?" They are turned off by Christians and eventually, to Christianity altogether. We can't even count the number of times someone has given us a weird stare or completely brushed us off when they discover we work for a church.

So when did the focus of Christianity shift from the unconditional love and acceptance preached by Christ to the hate and condemnation spewed forth by certain groups today? Some say it was during the rise of Conservative Christianity in the early 1980s with political action groups like the Moral Majority. Others say it goes way back to the 300s, when Rome's Christian Emperor Constantine initiated a set of laws limiting the rights of Roman non-Christians. Regardless of the origin, one thing is crystal clear: It's not what Jesus stood for.

His parables and lessons were focused on love and forgiveness, a message of "come as you are, not as you should be." The bulk of his time was spent preaching about helping the poor and those who are unable to help themselves. At the very least, Christians should be counted on to lend a helping hand to the poor and others in need.

This brings us to the big issues of American Christianity: Abortion and gay marriage. These two highly debatable topics will not be going away anytime soon. Obviously, the discussion centers around whether they are right or wrong, but is the screaming really necessary? After years of witnessing the dark side of religion, Marc and I think not.

Christians should be able to look past their differences and agree to disagree. This allows people to discuss issues with respect for one another. Christians are called to love others just as they are, without an agenda. Only then will Christianity see a return to its roots: Loving God with all of your heart and loving your neighbor as yourself.

The Apostle Paul describes this idea of love beautifully in 1 Corinthians 13:4-7: "Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance."

But don't take our word for it; look at what Jesus and his followers stood for in his time and what Christianity stands for today. Then come to your own conclusion.

Braving the elements

2006-12-11T21:17:00.000-05:00

WINTER OF DISCONTENT? HELL NO, BRING IT ON!
Well, after weeks of anxious waiting by me, winter has at long last appeared in New England. Last Monday morning it snowed a bit, but it had mostly turned to slush by the time I got out of the shower and left to go to work. However, the weather did take a noticeable turn with temperatures dipping down into and below the twenties. All very fine by me. Prior to last week, it was constantly hovering around 50 degrees and the sky was filled with nothing but a dreary, grey rain. I'd much prefer it to be below freezing and snowing.

According to an online poll on the Weather Channel's website, 58.5% of the American populace prefer to swelter in extreme summer heat than endure frigid winter cold. Count me in the minority for that one. My philosophy is that if you're cold you can always throw a sweater on; if it's 95 degrees out and the AC is broken then you're fucked. Ten out of ten times, I'd rather be lost in the Yukon with a book of matches than stuck in the Sahara with a Dasani. But since moving to New England, all anyone and everyone can tell me is how a Georgia boy like me is going to hate the winters here.

I like the winter. Maybe I read too many stories about the Malemute Kid in my youth and formed some kind of Romantic, idyllic connection between them and the cold, white North, but I have such a respectful, fascination with the freezing, frost-gloved grip of Winter. I like the cold. I like the wind whipping up in my face, setting my cheekbones and the tips of my ears on fire. I like the snowflakes that clump on my jacket and stick in my eyelashes. I love the smell of woodsmoke and the taste of the cold air as I breathe it into my lungs. I like the numbness and the sensation of my heart beating to keep my limbs supplied with hot blood. I like the feeling of life fighting against the bitter chill that seeps in your bones, threatening to still every living molecule in your body.

But most of all, I like coming home and in out of the cold: that rush of relief as you throw off wet scarf, gloves, and coat and sit in front of the fire or the heat register, hot chocolate in hand. That is a damn good feeling.

WATERLOGGED
For some odd reason, I have been fixed on the idea of drowning lately. I have had nightmares about it happening to me and I've become terrified at the prospect of being lost at sea after a trans-Atlantic plane crash. The funny thing is that I'm planning no ocean voyages or overseas trips anytime soon, so I'm not anxious about anything like that. I suspect it may have something to do with watching 'Casino Royale', as the ending was a little intense and I almost had to forcibly check my gag reflex. I suppose it doesn't help much either that I am currently reading a book about an Indian boy lost at sea for over 6 months.

Not just science fiction but science fraud

2006-12-04T19:20:00.000-05:00

THERE IS NO EXIT STRATEGY FOR PLANET EARTH
I don't want to go on some long diatribe here, but lately there has been a lot of news bouncing about concerning matters that I take a lot of issue with. That something would be the prospect of galaxy-spanning space travel and space colonization. Every few years it seems some moron passing himself off as a reasonable man of science or public figure decides it would be a great idea to invest a helluva lot of money towards some pointless goal like moon settlement (no really, there's water there, we just can't see it!) or manned Mars exploration (thank you President Bush for adding another seemingly unattainable task to America's policy queue). My response is to immediately ignore these folks and go about my day.

Now as a kid, I grew up living and thriving on science fiction. I read Jules Verne, Ray Bradbury, and the eternally great Isaac Asimov. When I was very small (one of my first memories, in fact) I traveled to Houston, Texas to meet my grandmother's cousin, who was a legendary Apollo astronaut. He had been into space for one mission and had served in mission control for many of our country's most prestigious moon missions, including that ill-fated and immortal Apollo 13 mission. As I have come to understand it, he was a big reason our boys got home safely. He was also scheduled to go up again in the 90's and be the oldest man to go in space. Unfortunately, he had a burning desire to climb Mount Everest. He died and is buried there and Sen. John Glenn took his place. I went to Space Camp as a kid, both in Huntsville and at Cape Canaveral. I was a kid who wanted to be an astronaut, who wanted to discover vast and far away galaxies and set my boots on new planets, claiming them for America and the human race. All I'm trying to say is that more than a lot of people, I have a stake in this space travel fantasy and desire.

So imagine my disappointment as I grew up and learned about astronomy and physics and all those other scientific fields that demand a high understanding of complex mathematics. I found out that any sort of meaningful long-range manned space travel was essentially impossible. You can't travel the speed of light, there is no hyperspace, no magical warp space or wormholes prepared to deliver you to the other side of the universe or even the Milky Way at a whim. It was all just a pipe dream, something you might write about in a story or daydream about, but nothing real or tangible that I could hope for in my lifetime or even in a thousand generations of lifetimes. I got over it, I moved on.

So it's a bit comical now seeing NASA calling for a moonbase and planning to visit Mars to finally determine once and for all that there is nothing there except red dust and a toxic atmosphere. It's also sad that the American public is going to spend good money on this project when it could be used for a better purpose.

But imagine my surprise when I read that Stephen Hawking himself thinks it necessary that human beings expand beyond our solar system and colonize new planets in order to survive. Usually this kind of scientific speculation is left to nutjobs and the fatally idealistic. Granted, Hawking is a genius and arguably the most respected physicist on the planet, but this just smacks of irresponsibility to me. Perhaps these complex theories and propulsion systems are remotely possible, but we are certainly millenia, if not hundreds of thousands of years, away from any sort of real breakthrough on this front. And just the fact that he referenced 'Star Trek' makes the whole notion seem that much more in the realm of romantic hope and fantasy. Uneducated and delusional people around the globe are going to continue to latch onto these far-fetched ideas and hope to run away from Earth's problems, rather than use those resources and that knowledge to tackle them.

My circadian rhythms are bumpin'

2006-12-04T02:08:00.000-05:00

MASSACHUSETTAN...MASSACHUSETTER...MASSACHUSETTITE?
In case you've been AWOL for the past few months -- oh wait, no that was me -- and out of the loop, I have a new state. I am now a resident of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, a Bay Stater. At least that's what the quickly disappearing numbers on my paycheck say. And Boston sports fans aside, I have been pretty pleased with my new environs.

Everything here is old. Whether in Boston or here on the North Shore, there is a vibrant living history about the place. It helps to have Salem right down the street, where the centuries-old houses feature plates that name the carpenter and original occupant. Built in 1794 by Ebeneezer So-and-so for Captain Proctor and his Wyfe. It would not surprise me in the least if I were to meet Hester Prynn or Ishmael meandering down the cobbled backstreets or out by Pickering Wharf. I can stand on Essex Bridge, spanning the waters between Salem and Beverly, and look out past the harbor and to the sea, imagining what it would be like to be some ancient Narragansett standing among the eaves of green, virgin forest and seeing European masts on the horizon for the first time.

I have to also say that Beverly has a most excellent cemetary. Strange as it may be, I love cemetaries. I spent late Saturday afternoon walking along the rows of marble headstones and moss-grown crypts quietly musing to myself. Perhaps it's a bit dark, but it is magical to be a living, breathing person and surrounded by the houses of the dead, briefly touching the stones and imagining who these people were, what their histories are. I hiked to the top of the high hill at the east end to admire the large W_ family mauseleum that squatted there amongst perfectly eldritch trees, drinking in the atmosphere the entire time and loving it. I left with dusk giving way to night, daring the dark to come but equally wishing not to get caught locked in, inventing morbid little vampire stories the whole way out.

MY, BUT AREN'T YOU A PLEASANT PSYCHOPATH?
I get to visit with the psychiatrist and have a nice long chat about my brain-fever and melancholy in a couple of weeks. I must say that I am thrilled. I get to find out what exactly my problem is and possibly be diagnosed as clinically depressed, bi-polar, manic-depressive, or simply just "certifiable." Are you dripping with anxiety? I sure am.

GOOD GOD! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY CHILDHOOD!?
I'm sure that there are people who will be beating down the cinema doors to see this crap and next year's 'Transformers', but I honestly don't know why. Eighties cartoons do not good films make. My childhood was great, but it is just that, my childhood. I am now in adulthood, or some quasi-changeling state in between the two. I have good memories of 'He-Man' and 'G.I. Joe' but other than the odd 'Family Guy' reference I'm not all that interested in revisting them. Half of the cartoons are just so bad they are unbearable to watch anyway (Thundercats, anyone?). Not too mention that Hollywood has plans in the works for a new Pee-Wee Herman movie, a 'Fraggle Rock' movie that is set in the 'real world', and a 'Dark Crystal' sequel. Count me out...unless they decide to tackle an R-rated Teddy Ruxpin flick. I can see it now -- Teddy Ruxpin & Grubby Meet the Glowworms!

Bitten by the bug

2006-11-29T23:49:00.000-05:00

I should be in bed (I'm trying a new routine of early morning running), but I just felt compelled to get up and jot down a few lines. I guess after such a long time I just feel like writing again and I don't want to lose anymore fresh ideas to a night of sleep. That and the fact that I think I have bedbugs. In fact I've nearly convinced myself of the idea. It may just be winter weather and dry skin, but I am itching all over right now. No rash, just itching.

I actually read a few months ago that bedbugs (an oldie but a goodie!) were making a big comeback in the U.S. -- especially in the Northeast -- thanks to new waves of immigrants from countries without the luxuries of things like DDT and showers. And now they share a rented room of a boarding house with me in Massachusetts! I guess it could turn out to be fun -- like that bad MTV movie with the talking cockroaches and Jerry "yeah, I was the fat kid from 'Stand By Me'" O'Connell.

All part of the adventure that is this place, I suppose. Today I woke up to find that the hot water was out; a cold shower was not a very appealing option for late November in New England so I opted for the grunge "I've got world problems way more important than personal hygeine on my mind" look at work. I also have a rather loud neighbor who is a nurse and therefore tends to keep odd hours. She blasts heavy metal music on her stereo most of the day. This wouldn't typically be a problem since I like heavy metal, but she plays weird, moody Evanescence-like crap. And I don't know what she watches that is so funny, but she has a shrieking laugh that sounds like the offspring of a hyena and a howler monkey on crack.

But I get what I paid for. And what I paid for is a minimalist monk's cell that I hoped would help me live a Spartan lifestyle as I try to plug into a vein of inspiration and get some writing work done. Until next time, I'm off to sleep and trying not to let the bedbugs bite.

Cashed out but buying back in with champagne bottle in hand

2006-11-19T22:02:00.000-05:00

OUT OF ATHENS AND INTO THE MAELSTROM
Hello Cleveland! No seriously, it's good to be back. Where have I been? Sit back and allow me to regale you with the tale. A tale of not two, but three cities.

Rewind some three months ago and we find our strangely charming but flawed protagonist on the eve of leaving Athens, Georgia (the scene of his most uncomfortable comfort zone) in a state of melancholy and poverty feeling worthless, penniless, hopeless, and some other words ending in a similar suffix. For some odd reason he had it in his head that this departure would be nothing but a brief sabbatical before he returned to this quaint Southern college town. However, like any other great Greek drama it seems the Divine Fates had other plans in mind.

And so now I am on the road pushing ever westward and ever northward towards a destination and a destiny I have yet to comprehend. For the moment I sit shotgun, sharing the bench with my mother who sits to my left, piloting this beast of a UHaul across the asphalt spiderweb that covers my American landscape. I now remember what I had forgotten in my teenage rebellion and youthful isolationism: my mother is a great woman, perhaps the greatest woman, a woman built of kindness and quiet dignity, but maintaining a ferocious strength about her.

In my hand rests a book, a novel of fitting and ironic significance. In the darkening light my eyes scan line after line of the wandering adventures of Sal Paradise and Dean Moriarty as they criss-cross the very same earth that I am writing my own tale into. My brain begins to think in the prose of Kerouac and I cannot help but think that the old man would approve of my own journey, my own tale of the road. But this is not a rehashing of old events; the yellow headlights illustrate something new, a fresh and inviting story that has yet to be told. And with that in mind we race towards the purple bruise of the sunset, eager to beat it, and wondering what secrets it holds in store for us. A succession of states fall in eventual turn to us; a pair of unstoppable conquerors who arm themselves not with torch and sword, but with gasoline and the American highway.

We pass through cities, great American cities, and into the bosom of the American plain. She opens her welcoming arms to us and even grants us passage over her magnificent waterways, including Old Man Mississippi, the river of my birth. For me this is the heartwater of my nation and it is no surprise to me that a man who plied these noble, muddy waters would be his country's greatest spokesman. And that a man so tied to them would be our greatest leader. But my travels continue away from this mighty artery and into the Midwestern prairie.

Wisconsin. This state shares great concerns as I pass through her hills. A land of sunshine and simple, green rolling land. My Teutonic ancestors would have loved this place; a land of green pasture and simple desires. What a strange thing to hold her in such high regard as I try to outdo her. Minnesota fails in that regard; a grey, slow land that wishes to be more but restricts itself in several sad tales. This is not home. And so I come to Boston. A friend has a job opening and I am suddenly where I have wanted to be for ages. I was in Minnesota for a paltry time period and now I must remove myself to a more cosmopolitan arena. Boston and New England call to me. This is a place I have longed for since an early age. For now I am content...

Shine on you crazy diamond

2006-07-12T01:45:00.000-04:00

Today I found out that Syd died a few days ago from diabetes. He was 60 years old. There aren't a lot of words that I think of to put together to express how I feel. I always knew that he would be the first of the five to pass away, but that hasn't made it any easier on me. In a lot of ways he was the least of them. He wasn't Roger or David or Nick or Rick. He had nothing to do with 'Dark Side of the Moon' or 'Animals' or 'The Wall'. If you had asked most people or even casual Pink Floyd fans they would not have been able to tell you who he was. But in a lot of ways, Syd was the best of them. He was Pink Floyd. After all he was the founding guitarist and lead singer and he was responsible for grabbing 3 kids out of architecture school to create a band that he named Pink Floyd.

I could tell you a million different things about Syd Barrett. I could tell you how he revolutionized the London rock-n-roll scene and created 'space rock'. I could tell you about the days at the UFO Club and how he was good friends with Jimi Hendrix and how he was there the day John and Oko met. I could tell you about the bluesmen who influenced him and the rock and rollers he in turn influenced. I could tell you about the acid and the mental problems. But I don't need to do that. I can just tell you that Syd Barrett was an amazing guitarist and songwriter. He had all the promise in the world and he was determined to beat the Beatles. If things had gone differently I'm pretty sure he could have done it.

But he fell apart and the band moved on without him. But they never forgot him. I still think one of the most touching stories in music concerns Pink's album 'Wish You Were Here'. The album centered around Syd and illnesses. One day out of no where, Syd showed up at Abbey Road and asked if he could help in any way. No one had heard from him in several years, and he had just showed up out of nowhere. Everyone there was moved to tears.

Today I am moved to tears to learn about his death. I never expected him to come out and give any interviews or make some new music, but just knowing he was still there in a small house in Cambridge made me happy. I'm glad to hear that his last years were peaceful; full of painting and gardening. But I will be forever saddened to know one of the world's great talents has left us forever. We'll miss you Syd.

Roger 'Syd' Barrett 1946-2006

"Come on you raver, you seer of visions,
Come on you painter, you piper, you prisoner, and shine!"

Opening weekend grosses

2006-07-08T18:37:00.000-04:00

This is why I am very selective on which movies I see on their opening weekend. I know it might be hard for people to understand, but I do not like to jeopardize Star Wars box office records and grosses by seeing films which have a tendency to draw in a lot of people. I know, you're saying, "Don't you think that's a little weird, a little psycho?" No, I don't. I respect the integrity of Mr. Lucas' films and I want to do what I can to preserve it. Of course I realize that one man is not going to effect anything, but for me it's about the principle. I didn't go see 'Superman Returns' until the following Monday, and I'm sure this pirate movie is entertaining and probably pretty good, but I don't think it deserves to draw more opening day business than 'Episode III'. I still am yet to see 'Titanic', and I am a huge James Cameron fan. So I guess I'll let you have your opinion, but don't rag me up and down about mine.

Oh glorious day!

2006-05-04T12:32:00.000-04:00

Imagine this padawan learner's unadulterated bliss upon learning that come September 12, he will own the classic Star Wars trilogy on DVD. Not the Special Edition, no extra scenes or shots at all, just the original 1977, 1980, and 1983 theatrical releases of the films. We finally got George to break down! I thought this day would never come; I've hoped and prayed for it, and now after long years of CG Sarlacc pits and revised Greedos it is finally going to happen. I was just wondering two days ago if this would ever happen. I thought, "No way while George has control over it. Maybe when he joins the ethereal mysteries of the Force, God forbid this ever happening, his estate might finally release them." But he finally caved and we simple members of Nerdom have our victory! Praise be to the Father Anakin, the Son Luke, and the Holy Force!

A list of Special Edition extras I won't be missing:

- Greedo shooting first

- That atrocious Jabba scene in the hangar

- Ian McDiarmid replacing the old woman who played the Emperor in ESB

- The Star Wars music video in Jabba's palace (I so loved the song that Max Rebo's Band originally played)

- The cruel fate of Oola the dancing Twi'lek (one could have guessed from the screams issuing from the Rancor pit)

- Boba Fett pimping bitches

- The Sarlacc with the beak and CG tentacles

- Han Solo's dumb revised line as he rescues Lando; the original "Trust me" had so much irony and meaning after Lando's sellout of Han

- The score at the end of ROTJ that replaced the original Ewok tribal song (some of my favorite music of the films)

As you can see there is a running theme here with ROTJ; the Special Edition of that movie sucked hard core.

However, there are a few Special Edition treats that I enjoy.

- Dewbacks!

- some of the expanded Mos Eisley shots

- more shots of the Wampa ice creature

- expanded look at Cloud City with the pink sunsets

- the shot of the Bantha herd as Jabba's Sail Barge flies past

Now if we can only get them to release the theatrical version of TPM that they tried to cover up. Damn you Rick McCallum!

Harry Potter wants your Christian souls!

2006-04-25T00:02:00.000-04:00

I was at work on Friday when I saw something in the local newspaper that caught my eye. Apparently, if you enjoy reading about Harry Potter and his adventures you will soon find yourself caught up attending Black Sabbaths and worshipping Satan. That's what some crazy Georgia parents think at least --- in this, our latest edition of, "Why Christian Fundamentalists are Fucking Nutjobs!"

So anyway, this woman is trying to get the books banned in Gwinnett Co. schools rather than do her job as a parent. She believes they promote evil ideas like witchcraft and the occult and yada, yada, yada. Hey, she's entitled to her opinion, no matter how stupid it is (and it is stupid), but don't force it on other kids and families. Great strategy: try to ruin other people's lives to make things a little easier on yourself. I've never understood the banning book thing. If the purpose of school is to teach children and open their eyes to new ideas and such, than why deny books to them? If this woman has such a problem with books, just home-school your kids and don't ever expose them to anything different so they can grow up to be brain-washed little introverts who can't function in a real environment. Get over yourself lady. The best part is that the woman has no idea what she's talking about. She's never even read the damn books!

[Mrs. Mallory] admitted that she has not read the book series partially because “they’re really very long and I have four kids.”“I’ve put a lot of work into what I’ve studied and read. I think it would be hypocritical for me to read all the books, honestly. I don’t agree with what’s in them. I don’t have to read an entire pornographic magazine to know it’s obscene,” Mallory said.

Do you hear the words that are coming out of your mouth, woman!? It's actually very hypocritical that you are making a blanket judgement that you have no idea about. Doesn't sound like you put in a lot of work after all. But that is how all these people are. They get it into their little minds that something is bad or against Christianity and they condemn it without even doing a little research. It's like this genius who writes the little Chick Christian comics about how you're going to Hell. I looooove this guy. Some stupid-ass Protestant Bible-beater* who thinks he knows everything. He has a great comic about Dungeons & Dragons. Hey genius! -- if you play D&D, the only thing you are gonna become is a loser, not a Satan worshipper. If a kid reads Harry Potter or plays a fantasy game and ends up casting spells or sacrificing the neighborhood cat, it's most likely due to the fact he can't separate reality and has major issues that are deeper than just a children's book.

So let's summarize: DON'T BAN BOOKS!!! It's a stupid thing to do, a real waste of everyone's time, and a pretty backwards exercise. If you have a problem with a book, or a video-game, or whatever, just talk to your kids about why you think they shouldn't read it. Your child will probably love you more if you just do your job as a parent and don't try to be some crusading social activist. Then again, you are probably a domestic fascist and your child will most likely rebel in his teen years and smoke a lot of drugs and have a lot of unprotected sex and just plain hate your guts, sending you to an early grave after you suffer a cataclysmic and crippling stroke while making brownies for the local Church bake sale. So maybe just chill out and grab a beer.

*I generally do not like Baptists, who seem to comprise the majority of the nutjob fundamentalists, and I do realize that I am making a lot of sweeping judgements about this particular sect of Christianity. I apologize if you are Baptist and can think for yourself; I don't mean to insult your faith and drag you into the broader picture. I just have a problem with the idiots out there.

25 reasons why I am a nerd*

2006-04-18T03:34:00.000-04:00

25) Twi'leks are hot.

24) My dream presidential ticket would include Albus Dumbledore and Gandalf the Grey. Conan the Barbarian would serve as Secretary of Defense.

23) I own a lightsaber.

22) Up - Up - Down - Down - Left - Right - Left - Right - B - A - B - A - Select - Start.

21) In the past few days I've rediscovered the glorious wonder that is Final Fantasy IX. I've since logged about 25 hours into it.

20) I think this is one of the funniest websites I've seen in ages. Ninjas rule!

19) The worst thing you can call me is a Trekkie. Although I do agree with Mr. Campbell that Star Trek: TNG, while it can never be as recognized, is far superior to the original.

18) I get 98% of Seth McFarlane's jokes.

17) I've been to a convention.

16) Two of the most intriguing characters in modern English literature are Batman and Anakin Skywalker.

15) Am I the only person who thinks the 'Legend of Zelda' would make a good video-game movie?

14) Contrary to popular belief, Trolls are NPCs and cannot level up.

13) I don't fear the bird flu. I fear deadly outbreaks of zombie attacks. George Romero doesn't make movies; he makes documentaries that can serve as survival guides when the shit hits the fan.

12) Finding out the name of the Childlike Empress was a major turning point in my life. Everything that happens here on out will be deemed post-Moonchild.

11) I directed, produced, and starred in my own Star Wars fan film.

10) Even though I hate Harry Knowles with a passion, I make a point to check his website throughout the week.

9) I've camped out for movie tickets.

8) I wrote a blog about how Superman sucks.

7) The Three Laws of Robotics are . . .

6) I have to constantly explain myself after I quote obscure movies.

5) If the Holy Trinity was composed of George Lucas, Stephen Spielberg, and James Cameron, I would be Ok with that.

4) You saw the 'Lord of the Rings' movies, but you are ignorant of the fact that Fingolfin is the coolest elf this side of Middle-Earth cuz you didn't read 'The Silmarillion.' I did.

3) Comic books are the new books.

2) I went to see 'Monsters, Inc.' in theaters just to see a 30 second 'Episode II' teaser. The feature was good too.

1) I heart Star Wars.

* And damn proud of the fact.

Ahhh, the sweet smell of...semen?

2006-03-07T01:01:00.000-05:00

Well, spring is . . . springing(?) in North Georgia. It's getting warm enough for shorts, baseball season is starting, and the dogwoods are blooming, bringing with them the omnipresent scent of human ejaculatory fluid. Seriously, why the hell do these trees smell exactly like cum? Walk outside and you'd think some cosmic giant jacked off into your front lawn. I don't know if you people have these trees where you live, but I hope for your sake that they are restricted to Dixie. The cherries of Washington are a prettier sight for the eyes and far easier on the nose.

Anyway, so begins the suckiest season of the quartet. In Georgia, the weather tends to be quite warm, but sometimes without a whim the sun goes off on a week-long bender and it gets cold again. I think we had snow in April a few years ago. I like defined seasons. I have no problem with the cold if I know it's gonna be cold, but it sucks to walk to class in a T-shirt because it was 85 degrees yesterday and find it's 40 instead. The human animal is one of adaptation and gradual inclination; extreme hot and colds are no fun.

And then you have the sheer wonder of seasonal allergies. Lo! What misery is visited upon the face of Man! In this case, my face . . . and my head, my sinuses, my eyes. And no simple ragweed hayfever this; this is a full onslaught of yellow spoor originating of the sinister Georgia pine! For a mimimum of six whole weeks, the whole expanse of the Earth is covered in this dusty blanket. Death by mustard gas would be preferable.

The remaining three seasons are much better in comparison to the horror that is spring. Summer, autumn, and winter. Everything's roasted, everything's dying, everything's dead.

Disciple of the Reading Rainbow

2006-02-24T02:31:00.000-05:00

I only made one real New Year's resolution this year: READ MORE. I used to read so much when I was younger; I've always read a lot but it seems that I've fallen off in the last couple of years and not kept up with stuff. When I was a kid I devoured books; I would easily read a 200-300 page book in a matter of hours. I've always attributed a lot of my intelligence to my reading habits; nothing helps you learn or stretches your brain better than reading. Fuck school; if you have the books you can always teach yourself. I know when I was in kindergarten I read at a 4th or 5th grade level.

Anyway . . . I figured I would try to discipline myself and try to read a book a week this year. I'm a little behind already having read only four books in about seven weeks, but to be fair none of the books have been less than 600 pages. In total, my pleasure reading has numbered 3,546 pages so far. Of course, this hasn't included any of my school reading, which has added a couple of hundred of pages to be sure. Al Bakri, Lacan, Mulvey, the Qur'an, Ibn Battuta: what absolute fun this semester has been so far. If I can hit 20,000 pages and about 52 books this year I'll be pretty pleased with myself. So if you're bored go read a book.

Casting call

2006-02-16T00:52:00.000-05:00

After the Oscar nominations were announced I saw that the trend of younger talent being recognized is not only continuing, but getting stronger. Even though Dame Judi Dench continues to be nominated every year, the overall groups of women (whom I am focusing on here) are getting pretty young and remaining so.

And the Best Actress category seems to be the most groundbreaking in the last couple of years as well; admitting Halle Berry as the first black Best Actress, the 'Whale Rider' girl as the youngest nominee for Best Actress, my sweetheart Catalina as the first Spanish-speaking nominee, and Charlize Theron as the first Oscar winner to successfully make the jump from former model to real actress (sorry Milla). All in all, pretty wild stuff.

This year, Michelle Williams looks poised to grab the Best Supporting statuette and the coveted "First Dawson's Creek Alum to Actually Do Something With Their Lives Other Than Excite Tom Cruise Into A Freakish Adolescent Frenzy Award" for her role in the ever-popular 'Brokeback Mountain'. In the spirit of all this estro-mania I decided to make a little list of my own to award deserving actresses. As follows are the Top 10 actresses I would love to work/sleep with in the process of shooting a film.

10) Ziyi Zhang: Her work is both powerful and subtle and she commands the physicality and grace for action films and the presence for drama. I've never really been all that attracted to Asian women, but she's turning that all around.

9) Emmanuelle Chriqui: I first noticed her in the college comedy '100 Girls' and since then in bit work, such as 'Waiting' and HBO's 'Entourage'. I don't know much about her acting, but she's fucking hot!

8) Uma Thurman: If she's good enough for Quentin, she's good enough for me.

7) Natalie Portman: She's been nominated for an Oscar and she was in 'Star Wars'!? Duh!

6) Scarlett Johannson: I actually fell in love with her before Bill Murray and Sofia Coppola did. 'Ghost World' anyone?

5) Kate Beckinsale: In 'Underworld' she plays a hot, Goth vampire chick who takes pity on us mere mortals. Harry Knowles just creamed his pants.

4) Keira Knightley: See # 7 plus British accent. ('Star Wars' Trivia: She and Natalie Portman both played Queen Amidala in 'Episode I')

3) Charlize Theron: I honestly do respect Charlize's acting chops. A friend and I went to see 'Monster' when it opened and it was pretty powerful. In addition, I'd bat cleanup to Stephan Jenkins any day of the week.

2) Jessica Alba: Wow, talk about a strong argument for interracial marriage. I actually do think she's a good actor; I'm just worried she's gonna get type-cast into comic book roles. Guess I'll have to write a dramatic role especially for her.

1) Catalina Sandino Moreno: I love her and I will marry her.

The epistle apostle

2006-01-27T05:00:00.000-05:00

I was thinking today about how the art of letter-writing is so seemingly lost. In the past two weeks, I have had people tell me that not only was the cost of stamps rising two cents but that the United States Congress is considering passing a bill into law that would charge a nickel for every email message sent in the country. How did we get to this point? It seems that our Information Age technological society simply has forgotten the simple graces of epistolary writing. When was the last time you either received or sent a letter or even a postcard? It seems that even birthday and Christmas cards are down across the board.

It's very sad that an art that has been with mankind for thousands of years is being wiped off the map almost suddenly. It's true that the advent of the telegraph and telephone cut down on the need to communicate by letter, but I believe that it wasn't until the advent of digital email that the death warrant was finally signed.

For many years letters have conveyed the personal thoughts and sentiments of human beings across the world, having simple, personal or even worldwide effects on mankind. Hell, half of the New Testament is a collection of letters. The romance of Thomas Paine and the early revolutionaries, the Pony Express, love letters and family missives sent from war-torn Europe during the 1940s. What would the world be like without these things? What if Dracula was just another story instead of an epistolary masterpiece? As a writer and historian, the detoriation of letter-writing makes me very sad. How are future generations to understand our ways of life, our thoughts, and our dreams without correspondence printed on common parchment? The letters of men great and base are an amazing and incredibly in-depth way of studying the civilizations that preceded us. What a perspective they add!

I urge everyone to flex their creative muscle and break out the Bics to write a letter now and again. You don't have to be as prolific as an H.P. Lovecraft and write a library of tens of thousands, but perhaps drop a line of post now and again. A simple letter to a friend or family member. An unexpected surprise in the mail can be a wonderful surprise, even if it's nothing more than a written greeting or salutations. And what better way to improve your vocabulary and language than putting into words what would normally be a mundane phone conversation? Just think; something you write could be enshrined in the National Archives someday.

To the death?...No, to the pain.

2006-01-18T02:45:00.000-05:00

So I just finished this conversation with lada about my previous post and my apparent fascination with pain and being in pain. It is simply this: pain equals life. Or rather the struggle to maintain life. What's so wrong with being obsessed with wanting to be alive? Nothing at all. It's perhaps the most elementary of all human instincts. It is something very animalistic, primal, and basic that we all exhibit as common shareholders of the DNA for Homo sapiens. To feel pain is to truly know life.

For me, the simple definition of death is the absence of pain. If you were to hack a corpse to pieces, it's not going to suddenly jump up and shout for mercy. The nerve endings aren't transmitting any chemical signals; the body is just so much cordwood. The same if someone became calloused and shut themselves off from the world. Emotionally they are numb and for all intents and purposes dead in that way -- if not medically. This line of thought could also be extended to the spiritual side of life as well. Gets a little more tricky with people's individual beliefs but it can still hold. If you can't feel pain than you are either medically deceased or emotionally numb to the point you might as well be some zombie wandering around a shopping mall in Pittsburgh.

I'd like to go into more detail about this right now, especially concerning my thoughts on the pain of heartbreak and such, but I'm running on an hour of sleep and hopped up on Robotussin so it'll have to wait another day.

It's late, I just drank a bottle of champagne, and what the fuck am I doing?

2006-01-15T06:30:00.000-05:00

Why is the beginning always so hard for me to write? It seems that everything I write or do, it's so damn difficult to get past Act One. It would seem for most people it is the finishing that is so hard. For me? Complete opposite. I never seem to like how I start so I hit reset and begin again. Trouble is I'm never satisfied. It's just simple exposition: introduce some characters, add a little backstory, set up time and space and just go. It's like that old Greek story of the wicked king hanging out in Tartarus condemned to roll his boulder up his hill. He gets half of the way up before he starts having problems; at least he can get the ball rolling. Why can't I just go and see what happens. I'll give it a shot.

The protagonist is this story is me. The Dunce Cap Marvel. I'm 23 but act both 16 and 43 in equal parts. I either worry too much about the past or the future and totally disregard much of what is happening in the present. I'm a student at the University of Georgia. Or, rather I act like Chris Farley acting like a student. I don't think anyone would mistake me for Stephen Hawking, and not just because I lack a seriously disabling disease that leaves me confined to a chair. I don't really have a very bright and sunny disposition. In fact, I'm rather dark and brooding. Some of that comes from the clinical depression I suffer from and the rest from my wanting to be Lord Byron. I always say I should have been born a 19th century Romantic. My heroes are literary giants: Poe, London, Hemingway. If only I could write and drink and die as they did.

Life sucks sometimes; most times really. I wouldn't have it any other way though. Yeah, I'm a little masochistic but it really does make the great times truly GREAT. Why would anyone care that the sun was shining if there weren't thunderstorms? As lada loves to tell me, life is beautiful. And it is. I live in a world that has many simple beauties. Trees. Mountains. Oceans. I've been in love twice in my life. A lot of people can't say that. I have a great family and wonderful friends. There is a lot of promise and hope and love in my life. It evens out the sorrow, loneliness, and pain.

Life is a two-sided coin. My favorite movie is 'Return of the Jedi'. That's because of Darth Vader. His character embodies humanity. The good and the bad, the joy and the pain, the light and the dark side. Hopelessly entangled. And the best part of the movie? He redeems himself and comes out of it a pretty good guy who by the way saves the galaxy. Every person's goal everyday should be to redeem his or herself. I truly believe that. That's just a little window into me. You know, it's not that hard going after you get started.

ps. And one more thing: I'm a sucker for dog stories. I cry everytime.