Foxy Lady

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

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!!!!!

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!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!

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

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?

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

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

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!

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

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

"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

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.