Thursday, January 29, 2009
Late to the Party
I feel like something of an idiot because I haven't read John Updike, at least his novels, and now he's dead. How can one fancy oneself a reader, let alone a writer, and not be familiar with one of the titans of American literature? I can only shrug. For a large part of my life I sneered at the "literary" writers. They seemed to me to be of the same ilk as jazz and classical music fans; people who were different from me, and I wanted no part of them. You know, the New Yorker crowd. People who refer to the music I like as noise, or the books I grew up loving as trash.
Times change. Those highbrow attitudes still piss me off, but I find value in a lot of the stuff that those nose-in-the-airs often appreciate (or pretend to, at least). Christ, these days I even read the New Yorker! I still don't have time for jazz, but I love classical music (always have, actually). And after hearing this piece on NPR back in October, and then again when it was replayed on the Sirius radio NPR station I was listening to over the last trip I was on, I was determined to add some of Updike's work to my reading queue. His thoughts on travel were particularly meaningful to me, so it came as something of a shock to learn of his death.
Anyway, they are posting some good quotes from some of Updike's work over at Shakespeare and Co. And Dennis Perrin has a nod to him as well, in a way that only Dennis can.
Times change. Those highbrow attitudes still piss me off, but I find value in a lot of the stuff that those nose-in-the-airs often appreciate (or pretend to, at least). Christ, these days I even read the New Yorker! I still don't have time for jazz, but I love classical music (always have, actually). And after hearing this piece on NPR back in October, and then again when it was replayed on the Sirius radio NPR station I was listening to over the last trip I was on, I was determined to add some of Updike's work to my reading queue. His thoughts on travel were particularly meaningful to me, so it came as something of a shock to learn of his death.
Anyway, they are posting some good quotes from some of Updike's work over at Shakespeare and Co. And Dennis Perrin has a nod to him as well, in a way that only Dennis can.
Friday, January 23, 2009
There are days when I feel so out of it, so alienated, that I wonder if I've gone insane or suffer some deep personality disorder.
This thread title is the opening line from Dennis Perrin's piece about the inauguration. And I have to say he speaks pretty well for how I often feel about the whole thing. I'll get to linking to it, but first things first.
Feeling "out of it" and "alienated" is how many of us feel these days in the USA, I'm sure. I feel it all the time. I felt it especially last week when I had to walk into a Wal-Mart for the first time in I don't know how many years. I needed an SD card for the installation I was doing in Kansas and Wal-Mart was the only place in town I could get one. Walking through those doors, past the bored greeter (who didn't greet me), and into the massive flourescent maw was dizzying. To think that huge percentages of our population pass through that portal multiple times per week; damnation, no wonder everything is so messed up. Between the endless rows of shit and the unexpected eye-full of ass-crack around every other corner I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
That same trip got me caught up in the inaugural bullshit in ways I had previously been able to avoid, because we don't watch TV at home. With the hotel TV tuned to MSNBC, however, I got my immersion. They kept running ads for their inauguration coverage; cue the grandiose music, the melodramatic voiceover, the monster truck rally-esque hype. It pissed me off. Is there nothing in this country that can't be marketed for sale? There is so much merch involved with this thing you'd think it was a Batman movie or something.
I understand people being glad the Bush Administration is done. I am as much as anybody. Unfortunately, a significant number of the very people who enabled their atrocities are still around, and that gives me cause for concern. Some of them kept their jobs, or were promoted, by the Man of the Hour himself. I also highly doubt that Obama's crew will go after the Bush crooks. That bums me out, but it doesn't surprise me at all; they can make the excuse that they simply don't have time to and they won't be lying. But it's naive not to realize that they are pretty much all feeding at the same trough, and that includes the new President himself. I wish he wasn't a Democrat. I'd feel like CHANGE would be a real possibility if he weren't, but the Dems are only a little more likely to kiss us before fucking us than the Repubs were. And HOPE, in my opinion, is for Hallmark.
Obama seems like an okay guy. I wish him success, but with the high expectations heaped on him, I don't see how he can possibly deliver. I didn't listen to his speech, and I probably won't. I've heard enough of his speeches over the last couple years to know what he's going to say, for the most part. And seeing people blubber over it brings out the worst in me, and I don't like that either. It is theater, plain and simple, and the President is the biggest grossing celebrity of the day. Titanic is the biggest grossing movie ever, and I haven't watched it either; it's taken me 10 years at least to get over my loathing for Leonardo DiCaprio for a movie I didn't even see him in! Bottom line is that I simply don't trust Obama. He's the best politician in the world. That makes me infinitely skeptical, regardless of what comes out of his mouth. And -- and this will probably really get me in trouble -- I really don't think Michelle is all that hot, and her dress was ugly. But she sure seems smart.
Dennis Perrin really lets it rip in his post called The Hope Haze about the inauguration. I think a lot of people will be offended, but his perspective is worth getting. I think he is a guy who gives a shit, not just a mimic of some blowhard like a Fox News person trolling for ratings. Believe me, seeing those dickheads on the TV monitors at the gym the other night really made me think twice about posting anything about the inauguration at all, but screw it. As for Mr. Perrin, this post he put up from Boondock's creator Aaron McGruder is worth repeating here, though, because I think this nails it:
So is going after Obama right out of the gate cynical? I don't think so. I think in order to keep this thing on the course that everyone tearfully seems to think it's on then we need to analyze his every move just as if Bush was still the one with his hand on the wheel.
When it comes down to it, what bothers me most is a trend I see that is the current version of the post 9/11 Republicans. Back then, if you dared speak against the country, you were some kind of terrorist lover; "You are either WITH us or AGAINST us!" It is the same thing with so-called progressives and the new President. Dare to point out inconsistencies, or question his holy word, and the claws come out. I think that's bullshit.
Oh, and there is a great piece in Harper's called "A Quibble" by Mark Slouka. I'd link the thing here, but you need to be a subscriber. This bit is interesting:
Feeling "out of it" and "alienated" is how many of us feel these days in the USA, I'm sure. I feel it all the time. I felt it especially last week when I had to walk into a Wal-Mart for the first time in I don't know how many years. I needed an SD card for the installation I was doing in Kansas and Wal-Mart was the only place in town I could get one. Walking through those doors, past the bored greeter (who didn't greet me), and into the massive flourescent maw was dizzying. To think that huge percentages of our population pass through that portal multiple times per week; damnation, no wonder everything is so messed up. Between the endless rows of shit and the unexpected eye-full of ass-crack around every other corner I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
That same trip got me caught up in the inaugural bullshit in ways I had previously been able to avoid, because we don't watch TV at home. With the hotel TV tuned to MSNBC, however, I got my immersion. They kept running ads for their inauguration coverage; cue the grandiose music, the melodramatic voiceover, the monster truck rally-esque hype. It pissed me off. Is there nothing in this country that can't be marketed for sale? There is so much merch involved with this thing you'd think it was a Batman movie or something.
I understand people being glad the Bush Administration is done. I am as much as anybody. Unfortunately, a significant number of the very people who enabled their atrocities are still around, and that gives me cause for concern. Some of them kept their jobs, or were promoted, by the Man of the Hour himself. I also highly doubt that Obama's crew will go after the Bush crooks. That bums me out, but it doesn't surprise me at all; they can make the excuse that they simply don't have time to and they won't be lying. But it's naive not to realize that they are pretty much all feeding at the same trough, and that includes the new President himself. I wish he wasn't a Democrat. I'd feel like CHANGE would be a real possibility if he weren't, but the Dems are only a little more likely to kiss us before fucking us than the Repubs were. And HOPE, in my opinion, is for Hallmark.
Obama seems like an okay guy. I wish him success, but with the high expectations heaped on him, I don't see how he can possibly deliver. I didn't listen to his speech, and I probably won't. I've heard enough of his speeches over the last couple years to know what he's going to say, for the most part. And seeing people blubber over it brings out the worst in me, and I don't like that either. It is theater, plain and simple, and the President is the biggest grossing celebrity of the day. Titanic is the biggest grossing movie ever, and I haven't watched it either; it's taken me 10 years at least to get over my loathing for Leonardo DiCaprio for a movie I didn't even see him in! Bottom line is that I simply don't trust Obama. He's the best politician in the world. That makes me infinitely skeptical, regardless of what comes out of his mouth. And -- and this will probably really get me in trouble -- I really don't think Michelle is all that hot, and her dress was ugly. But she sure seems smart.
Dennis Perrin really lets it rip in his post called The Hope Haze about the inauguration. I think a lot of people will be offended, but his perspective is worth getting. I think he is a guy who gives a shit, not just a mimic of some blowhard like a Fox News person trolling for ratings. Believe me, seeing those dickheads on the TV monitors at the gym the other night really made me think twice about posting anything about the inauguration at all, but screw it. As for Mr. Perrin, this post he put up from Boondock's creator Aaron McGruder is worth repeating here, though, because I think this nails it:
"I did say I was cautiously pessimistic about Obama's Presidency - but this is simply acknowledging the reality of an American Empire that is out of control and on the verge of collapse. Let us not forget that on the eve of the election, we witnessed a near-trillion dollar robbery of the US treasury. That robbery is still taking place. I do not blame President Obama, but I do not believe the financial and corporate interests that own and control this country will fold so easily. I do not question the integrity of the man as much as the power of his office - which I believe has greatly diminished over the years. I believe the Federal Reserve Bank, the Military Industrial Complex, and the massive corporate interests that run this country have more power than our new President. I hope I am wrong.That's good stuff. And today, with Clean Up Time, Dennis still isn't pulling any punches. Yesterday Kirsten in Montana reviewed the high profile Gitmo thing that Obama is leading off with, in a post called The More Things Change, Part II.
"After 9/11, I witnessed most of this country become obsessed with squashing dissent and silencing critics. I hope this election does not turn Black America towards this same, fascist mind state; but already I am starting to see it, and it saddens me greatly. I absolutely wish our new President and his family success and safety. But after all I have witnessed in my lifetime, and especially in the last eight years, I am not ready to lay down my skepticism or my outrage for this government. To do so would be unwise and, ironically enough, anti-American."
Aaron McGruder
So is going after Obama right out of the gate cynical? I don't think so. I think in order to keep this thing on the course that everyone tearfully seems to think it's on then we need to analyze his every move just as if Bush was still the one with his hand on the wheel.
When it comes down to it, what bothers me most is a trend I see that is the current version of the post 9/11 Republicans. Back then, if you dared speak against the country, you were some kind of terrorist lover; "You are either WITH us or AGAINST us!" It is the same thing with so-called progressives and the new President. Dare to point out inconsistencies, or question his holy word, and the claws come out. I think that's bullshit.
Oh, and there is a great piece in Harper's called "A Quibble" by Mark Slouka. I'd link the thing here, but you need to be a subscriber. This bit is interesting:
Next, consider the numbers. Of the approximately 130 million Americans who voted this past November, very nearly half, seemingly stuck in political puberty, were untroubled by the possibility of Sarah Palin and the first dude inheriting the White House. At the same time, those of us on the winning side might want to do a cross-check before landing. How many of us—not just in the general election but in the primaries, when there was still a choice—voted for Obama because he was the It thing this season, because he was so likable, because he had that wonderful voice, because he was black, because he made us feel as if Atticus Finch had come home? If nothing else, the fact that so many have convinced themselves that one man, thus far almost entirely untested, will slay the culture of corruption with one hand while pulling us out of the greatest mess we’ve known in a century with the other suggests that a certain kind of “clap your hands if you believe” naiveté crosses the aisle at will.That's worth considering, as is his closing paragraph:
Praise me for a citizen or warm up the pillory, it comes down to the unpleasant fact that a significant number of our fellow citizens are now as greedy and gullible as a boxful of puppies; they’ll believe anything; they’ll attack the empty glove; they’ll follow that plastic bone right off the cliff. Nothing about this election has changed that fact. If they’re ever activated—if the wrong individual gets to them, in other words, before the educational system does—we may live to experience a tyranny of the majority Tocqueville never imagined.Bottom line for me is that the upside of this election is that the Republicans lost. I'm not thrilled that the Dems won, but what was the alternative? There wasn't one. The best guy with a legitimate chance of winning in our stupid Wal-Mart/Television culture won, but I'm still glad I didn't vote for him. Do I think progressives claimed victory? Absolutely, positively not. But that doesn't mean it's time to stop fighting. This is probably as good a shot at even getting in the ring as we've had, so hopefully we don't blow it.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
I Close My Eyes, Only for a Moment and the Moment's Gone
I tend to think I dislike poetry, and not just because I suck at it. Usually I think I hate it. So much of it is so obtuse that I feel dumb trying to figure it out, so I wave my middle finger at the page. The rest of it seems to belong in a Hallmark card. I wave my middle finger at that stuff too. At least once a year I try and "get it" but usually I don't. I have a couple books of poetry that I look in now and then, but I've about given up on trying to be a fan. I respect poets and the thankless world they've chosen to live in, but so many of them come across to me as picky folks who talk too quiet. I'm about half deaf; if you want to reach, speak up.
At the same time, every now and then one will just jump up unexpectedly and kick me in the gut. Like this one from the Sept/Oct issue of Orion Magazine:
Use Your Pay Pal
I just ordered this album, which is "officially" released on Tuesday. You should too. It's going to be magnificent.
It's the first solo album from my friend and musical shaman, Scott "Wino" Weinrich. I've talked about it before, and I damn well will again.
And I haven't even talked about SHRINEBUILDER yet.
At the same time, every now and then one will just jump up unexpectedly and kick me in the gut. Like this one from the Sept/Oct issue of Orion Magazine:
VespidsI can't tell you why I like it. I just do. Maybe there is hope for me yet. For the record, Orion is one of, if not my numero uno, favorite reads. So what if I'm a couple issues behind in reading it.
It’s down. The hornets’ nest.
Now first sting of frost on the ground
and we see no threat
only the hollow where harm lived.
Everything the season housed has flown:
yellow jackets idling low in the grass,
bats fanning the dusk, the hornets
threading close to the roof.
When we were children
we’d leap from our beds,
arms flung wide. In the seconds
before landing, we didn’t know fear
resides in gravity or stars fall
into themselves. We imagined rising
over the roofs not like souls
detached from bodies, but as bodies
resisting the world. Light in my hands
when I lifted it from the eave, fervor gone,
no longer wadded in industry, this testament
to vanishings is almost too fragile to hold.
- Michelle Gillett
Use Your Pay Pal
I just ordered this album, which is "officially" released on Tuesday. You should too. It's going to be magnificent.
It's the first solo album from my friend and musical shaman, Scott "Wino" Weinrich. I've talked about it before, and I damn well will again.
And I haven't even talked about SHRINEBUILDER yet.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Stay Tuned, We're Gonna Have a Popeye Cartoon in a Minute
I thought of that awesome Roger Miller song every time I walked through the front door of my hotel, since there was a newspaper box out front, and Kansas City Star is the name of the big paper. Roger Miller is one of those guys who makes me think I should be struck by a bolt of lightning for ever mentioning the word "songwriter" and my own name in the same sentence. The guy was a genius. If you watch one video today, watch this one.
On my way out of Parsons yesterday I went looking for the cemetery I mentioned. I drove around out where the literature I'd seen seemed to indicate it would be, but no dice. I did see this awful monstrosity, though:
This was the most obscene thing I saw in Kansas. This house was HUGE. And it sat out in the middle of this field like a pile of dog shit on the kitchen floor. To continue the metaphor, I didn't even want to look at it and tried to pretend it wasn't there. But I took a picture anyway.
I stopped at a gas station and asked about the cemetery but got blank looks. Then I swung by the customer site as I had promised, just to make sure everything was still working, and asked them about it. They didn't know anything about it either. I did get the name of a guy from a nearby town who "makes old saddles and things and goes to all the reenactments" the receptionist told me, then rolled her eyes. She suggested I call him. I thanked her, but that was a little more than I wanted to get in the middle of. This morning, a simple Google search turned this up; it's hard for me to imagine that none of these people knew this was right in the middle of their own town. I bet they know where all the friggin' McDonalds restaurants are, though.
On the way out of town I was going to stop for breakfast at a place that came highly recommended, but it was closed. I don't know that I get the imagery so many places use that features cartoonesque animals all thrilled over a place that sells cooked versions of them. I think this sign would look better, given the name, with a bunch of scrawny 80s-lookin' longhairs anyway:
The drive to Tulsa was pretty anti-climatic. In a warmer time of year it might have been pretty, because there were lots of rolling hills and barren trees. Yesterday it was just all gray and dead-looking. Getting stuck for a while behind a cattle truck that turned off at the sign to the stockyards didn't help. The beeves seemed desperate; maybe they sensed they were destined to become Ultimate Lerch Burgers. It bummed me out. I had fish for lunch.
On my way out of Parsons yesterday I went looking for the cemetery I mentioned. I drove around out where the literature I'd seen seemed to indicate it would be, but no dice. I did see this awful monstrosity, though:
This was the most obscene thing I saw in Kansas. This house was HUGE. And it sat out in the middle of this field like a pile of dog shit on the kitchen floor. To continue the metaphor, I didn't even want to look at it and tried to pretend it wasn't there. But I took a picture anyway.I stopped at a gas station and asked about the cemetery but got blank looks. Then I swung by the customer site as I had promised, just to make sure everything was still working, and asked them about it. They didn't know anything about it either. I did get the name of a guy from a nearby town who "makes old saddles and things and goes to all the reenactments" the receptionist told me, then rolled her eyes. She suggested I call him. I thanked her, but that was a little more than I wanted to get in the middle of. This morning, a simple Google search turned this up; it's hard for me to imagine that none of these people knew this was right in the middle of their own town. I bet they know where all the friggin' McDonalds restaurants are, though.
On the way out of town I was going to stop for breakfast at a place that came highly recommended, but it was closed. I don't know that I get the imagery so many places use that features cartoonesque animals all thrilled over a place that sells cooked versions of them. I think this sign would look better, given the name, with a bunch of scrawny 80s-lookin' longhairs anyway:
The drive to Tulsa was pretty anti-climatic. In a warmer time of year it might have been pretty, because there were lots of rolling hills and barren trees. Yesterday it was just all gray and dead-looking. Getting stuck for a while behind a cattle truck that turned off at the sign to the stockyards didn't help. The beeves seemed desperate; maybe they sensed they were destined to become Ultimate Lerch Burgers. It bummed me out. I had fish for lunch.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Off and Running
I'm in the midst of my first work trip of the year, in soon-to-be-frigid Parsons, KS. You may ask, "Where the hell is that?" It's literally the middle of nowhere. When I was looking at flight options, I could have flown into St. Louis and then driven 2.5 hours, or I could have flown into Wichita and driven 2.5 hours. I chose to fly into Tulsa, OK, because it only necessitated a 2-hour drive, plus it was a city/airport I'd never been to before. At least I don't think I've been there before. The beauty of it all is that the 2-hour drive came on the end of a long, much-delayed day of flying. Curse you, Minneapolis! Curse you! Anyway, here are some stunning shots of Parsons:
It has been a weird trip. Things that should have gone smooth at the customer site were full of little glitches; not anything I did, just device failures, hardware problems, little shit like that. If all had gone well, I'd be back on a plane headed home right now. The lady I'm working with said they always have those kinds of problems, and asked if I had any ideas why that is. I said maybe their building is built on an old Indian burial ground or something. She gave me an odd look, and said, "I thought your answer would be a little more technical." I told her I'm not a very technical guy. I did get rung up pretty good by one of their manufacturing guys though in a big meeting I had to preside over. We were talking about some kind of problem, and I was relating a story about when it first happened and I couldn't figure it out; it had me pulling my hair out. One of the wiseasses said, "It appears to have grown back okay, though." That got a good laugh at my expense. I can take it, though. Especially since the guy who said it is all but bald. Who is laughing now, eh, wiseguy?
I had lunch at this fine establishment today:
Lerch's Bar and Grill. The bar was crowded with old dudes griping about lack of work, the various bailouts, and the Kansas City Chiefs. All while drinking light beer and smoking like they wanted to die of cancer tomorrow. A table behind me had a "special" person in their midst that moaned and groaned loudly the entire time like an extra in a zombie film. Maybe that sounds mean, but that is what it reminded me of. The place advertises its "Ultimate Lerch Burger." It is 3# of meat, something like 8 pieces of cheese, 8 slices of bacon, and comes with a pound of french fries and a "Lerch Mug" which is just one of those plastic beer pitchers. If you can choke down the entire meal in 45 minutes or less, it is free. Otherwise you pay $29.99. No, I didn't make the attempt.
I intend to get up early, get a little work done, then head to Tulsa to catch my flight. I plan to take a few more photos too. There is supposedly a big cemetery right across the highway from the swank Best Western I'm inhabiting; that would be out beyond here somewhere:
I guess there are 375 Civil War vets buried out there. Seeing as how I recently read Confederates in the Attic, I'm pretty fired up about that. The IT guy where I'm working literally looks like he belongs in a reenactment group. He has the crooked teeth, the beard, and that kind of shell-shocked stare that would be right at home along side a muddy trail, bloating. I kid you not.
I'm also eager to see the countryside between here and Tulsa. Having just read American Buffalo, I'll be imagining it teeming with the mighty bison. I'm really, really pissed that I missed Rinella at Fact & Fiction just last night. I saw him at the Festival of the Book about 3 years ago, and we talked then about this bison book he was writing. It's bullshit that it is finally out and I wasn't around to catch the reading.
Goddamn, I wish I could get paid to just drive around and look at stuff. I'd even write about it. Speaking of which, I have a huge project I'm working on that I best put off procrastinating and get to work on. I tried faking my own death a little while ago, but that didn't really help me avoid my writerly responsibilities.
It has been a weird trip. Things that should have gone smooth at the customer site were full of little glitches; not anything I did, just device failures, hardware problems, little shit like that. If all had gone well, I'd be back on a plane headed home right now. The lady I'm working with said they always have those kinds of problems, and asked if I had any ideas why that is. I said maybe their building is built on an old Indian burial ground or something. She gave me an odd look, and said, "I thought your answer would be a little more technical." I told her I'm not a very technical guy. I did get rung up pretty good by one of their manufacturing guys though in a big meeting I had to preside over. We were talking about some kind of problem, and I was relating a story about when it first happened and I couldn't figure it out; it had me pulling my hair out. One of the wiseasses said, "It appears to have grown back okay, though." That got a good laugh at my expense. I can take it, though. Especially since the guy who said it is all but bald. Who is laughing now, eh, wiseguy?I had lunch at this fine establishment today:
Lerch's Bar and Grill. The bar was crowded with old dudes griping about lack of work, the various bailouts, and the Kansas City Chiefs. All while drinking light beer and smoking like they wanted to die of cancer tomorrow. A table behind me had a "special" person in their midst that moaned and groaned loudly the entire time like an extra in a zombie film. Maybe that sounds mean, but that is what it reminded me of. The place advertises its "Ultimate Lerch Burger." It is 3# of meat, something like 8 pieces of cheese, 8 slices of bacon, and comes with a pound of french fries and a "Lerch Mug" which is just one of those plastic beer pitchers. If you can choke down the entire meal in 45 minutes or less, it is free. Otherwise you pay $29.99. No, I didn't make the attempt.
I intend to get up early, get a little work done, then head to Tulsa to catch my flight. I plan to take a few more photos too. There is supposedly a big cemetery right across the highway from the swank Best Western I'm inhabiting; that would be out beyond here somewhere:
I guess there are 375 Civil War vets buried out there. Seeing as how I recently read Confederates in the Attic, I'm pretty fired up about that. The IT guy where I'm working literally looks like he belongs in a reenactment group. He has the crooked teeth, the beard, and that kind of shell-shocked stare that would be right at home along side a muddy trail, bloating. I kid you not.I'm also eager to see the countryside between here and Tulsa. Having just read American Buffalo, I'll be imagining it teeming with the mighty bison. I'm really, really pissed that I missed Rinella at Fact & Fiction just last night. I saw him at the Festival of the Book about 3 years ago, and we talked then about this bison book he was writing. It's bullshit that it is finally out and I wasn't around to catch the reading.
Goddamn, I wish I could get paid to just drive around and look at stuff. I'd even write about it. Speaking of which, I have a huge project I'm working on that I best put off procrastinating and get to work on. I tried faking my own death a little while ago, but that didn't really help me avoid my writerly responsibilities.
Friday, January 9, 2009
A Perfect Puddle
Whenever we get a bunch of snow and then the weather warms up and turns the streets to puddles and slush, I'm reminded of an incident from high school. My sister, Mitzi, was two grades ahead of me, so I'm thinking this recollection must have been the year she was a senior and I was a sophomore. At Frenchtown High School, of course, just barely Class B in those days.
My dad has worked at Smurfit-Stone for something like 42 years. Of course it hasn't always been that; I can remember it being called Horner Waldorf, Champion, Stone Container, etc. He had an account at what I think was originally called the Montana Forest Products Federal Credit Union (which ultimately morphed into what is now Gateway Federal here in Missoula, I think), and he set up accounts for us kids. Our allowance back then was every time he got paid, we had $5 automatically transfered into our accounts. Over time that would build up, and we would go withdraw our money to blow it on whatever (mine usually went to records, books and Dungeons and Dragons stuff). In those days, if we had $30 in our pockets we were loaded; do you know how many 25mm lead D&D miniatures you can get for $30?
On this particular occasion we cut out of school early. It was Mitzi, me, and our friend Pam Warne. We were band and choir geeks, all of us. Pam was a junior at the time; she is also the sister of my friend Bubba, who plays drums in LAZERWOLFS. We were coming up Broadway, eastbound, into Missoula. I took this picture yesterday, but back in the day this was a big Chevy (I think) dealer.
We would make a left on Birch, which cuts over from Broadway to North Russell, which is where the credit union was located. Here is a shot from yesterday on Birch, just after making the left from Broadway:
It was a little less developed then (we're talking '83 or so), and I think to the right of this picture was a lot where additional cars were kept (it is full of manufactured homes now) surrounded by a chain link fence. You can see how the slush is built up along the edge of the road, but on the day I am describing there was this massive lake of slushy puddle and possibly a bloated skunk or two.
Anyway, as we approached there were two guys in suits slowly picking their way through the melting lumps of snow along the sidewalk. Mitzi was driving, and she would have to either slow way down, or swerve to the left because these unfortunates were just opposite the massive puddle. I remember her asking, "Should I do it?" and me, in the backseat, hollering, "Do it! Do it!"
So she stomped the accelerator and roared through the puddle; we were driving this big, brown Mercury. I remember seeing this tidal wave of water erupt from the side of the car toward the sidewalk, even as the car's lurch forward threw me against the back seat. I looked out the back, through the fog and ice remnants clinging to the window, at the two guys still in full recoil that obviously did them little good. They were drenched. In my minds-eye I go so far as to imagine them shaking their fists at us. Even now, I have the stern, do-unto-others voice in one ear reminding me that this really isn't very funny and that wasn't a particularly Buddha-worthy antic, though the voice in my other ear that will remain eternally 15 still thinks it is the most hilarious thing I've ever seen.
We proceeded, rapidly, up the street to the intersection with Russell. Here's a shot of that intersection from yesterday; the building to the left is where the credit union used to be housed.
Appropo of Nothing
This is my self-portrait from yesterday. I've wondered for some time now how many miles would be registered on this most useful of tools, if it came with an odometer. I've had it for years, and it has carved many, many delicious pies.
Polaroids
Becky, who does the Release the Kraken Please blog, hipped me to this awesome little application called POLADROID. You install it and then drag images to it and it makes them look like they were taken with a polaroid (the application, when running, even looks and sounds like a polaroid camera!). The images even slowly appear, just like a real polaroid. It is pretty awesome, if I may say so, and this is coming from a guy who hates computers and pretty much all internet googadgery. I made polaroids out of a few images, and I think they are just bitchin'. You can save them before they are fully "developed", which makes them look even more washed-out and polaroidy. I learned that after I did these, though.
My dad has worked at Smurfit-Stone for something like 42 years. Of course it hasn't always been that; I can remember it being called Horner Waldorf, Champion, Stone Container, etc. He had an account at what I think was originally called the Montana Forest Products Federal Credit Union (which ultimately morphed into what is now Gateway Federal here in Missoula, I think), and he set up accounts for us kids. Our allowance back then was every time he got paid, we had $5 automatically transfered into our accounts. Over time that would build up, and we would go withdraw our money to blow it on whatever (mine usually went to records, books and Dungeons and Dragons stuff). In those days, if we had $30 in our pockets we were loaded; do you know how many 25mm lead D&D miniatures you can get for $30?
On this particular occasion we cut out of school early. It was Mitzi, me, and our friend Pam Warne. We were band and choir geeks, all of us. Pam was a junior at the time; she is also the sister of my friend Bubba, who plays drums in LAZERWOLFS. We were coming up Broadway, eastbound, into Missoula. I took this picture yesterday, but back in the day this was a big Chevy (I think) dealer.
We would make a left on Birch, which cuts over from Broadway to North Russell, which is where the credit union was located. Here is a shot from yesterday on Birch, just after making the left from Broadway:
It was a little less developed then (we're talking '83 or so), and I think to the right of this picture was a lot where additional cars were kept (it is full of manufactured homes now) surrounded by a chain link fence. You can see how the slush is built up along the edge of the road, but on the day I am describing there was this massive lake of slushy puddle and possibly a bloated skunk or two.Anyway, as we approached there were two guys in suits slowly picking their way through the melting lumps of snow along the sidewalk. Mitzi was driving, and she would have to either slow way down, or swerve to the left because these unfortunates were just opposite the massive puddle. I remember her asking, "Should I do it?" and me, in the backseat, hollering, "Do it! Do it!"
So she stomped the accelerator and roared through the puddle; we were driving this big, brown Mercury. I remember seeing this tidal wave of water erupt from the side of the car toward the sidewalk, even as the car's lurch forward threw me against the back seat. I looked out the back, through the fog and ice remnants clinging to the window, at the two guys still in full recoil that obviously did them little good. They were drenched. In my minds-eye I go so far as to imagine them shaking their fists at us. Even now, I have the stern, do-unto-others voice in one ear reminding me that this really isn't very funny and that wasn't a particularly Buddha-worthy antic, though the voice in my other ear that will remain eternally 15 still thinks it is the most hilarious thing I've ever seen.
We proceeded, rapidly, up the street to the intersection with Russell. Here's a shot of that intersection from yesterday; the building to the left is where the credit union used to be housed.
Appropo of NothingThis is my self-portrait from yesterday. I've wondered for some time now how many miles would be registered on this most useful of tools, if it came with an odometer. I've had it for years, and it has carved many, many delicious pies.
PolaroidsBecky, who does the Release the Kraken Please blog, hipped me to this awesome little application called POLADROID. You install it and then drag images to it and it makes them look like they were taken with a polaroid (the application, when running, even looks and sounds like a polaroid camera!). The images even slowly appear, just like a real polaroid. It is pretty awesome, if I may say so, and this is coming from a guy who hates computers and pretty much all internet googadgery. I made polaroids out of a few images, and I think they are just bitchin'. You can save them before they are fully "developed", which makes them look even more washed-out and polaroidy. I learned that after I did these, though.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Snow Day
Yesterday Sid and me went out to my parents' house to shovel snow off the roof of their house. They live west of Missoula in an area known as Six Mile; probably 30 miles or so at least from where we live. As wintery as it is here in town, it is much more so out their way.
Here is a shot of a couple locals checking out what we are doing.
We figured we would get out there and knock it out in an hour or so. Wrong! There was a lot of snow up on the roof -- a couple feet in spots -- and recent warmer temperatures and a little rain had settled it in quite a bit. It was a lot of work to get clear. About 30 minutes into it, Sid said, "All I know is we better go someplace like Fuddrucker's after this." Another hour and it was, "I think I'd rather go to Fiesta en Jalisco instead." As you can see here, he is working on applying for a career working for the state, and doing quite well:
I enjoyed it, believe it or not, even though I am sore today and have the muscles to prove it. Luckily I've been working out quite a bit lately so I was prepared; I would have hated to get off the couch and go directly to that. At one point Sid said, "We should have brought our iPods up here." I was happy I didn't. I liked hearing the breeze, the local dogs getting in a ruckus about something, the sound of the shovels scooping big chunks of snow, and a distant flock of geese. I find this kind of work very rewarding because, unlike my day job, after a few hours of effort there is actually something physical to show for it, something that actually seems beneficial. It is appropriate that I came home and opened up the book I am reading right now, A Handmade Life -- In Search of Simplicity by Wm. S. Coperthwaite, to a page that has the following blurb that features a quote from Thoreau:
Here is a shot of a couple locals checking out what we are doing.
We figured we would get out there and knock it out in an hour or so. Wrong! There was a lot of snow up on the roof -- a couple feet in spots -- and recent warmer temperatures and a little rain had settled it in quite a bit. It was a lot of work to get clear. About 30 minutes into it, Sid said, "All I know is we better go someplace like Fuddrucker's after this." Another hour and it was, "I think I'd rather go to Fiesta en Jalisco instead." As you can see here, he is working on applying for a career working for the state, and doing quite well:
I enjoyed it, believe it or not, even though I am sore today and have the muscles to prove it. Luckily I've been working out quite a bit lately so I was prepared; I would have hated to get off the couch and go directly to that. At one point Sid said, "We should have brought our iPods up here." I was happy I didn't. I liked hearing the breeze, the local dogs getting in a ruckus about something, the sound of the shovels scooping big chunks of snow, and a distant flock of geese. I find this kind of work very rewarding because, unlike my day job, after a few hours of effort there is actually something physical to show for it, something that actually seems beneficial. It is appropriate that I came home and opened up the book I am reading right now, A Handmade Life -- In Search of Simplicity by Wm. S. Coperthwaite, to a page that has the following blurb that features a quote from Thoreau:Great thoughts hallow any labor. Today I earned seventy-five cents heaving manure out of a pen, and made a good bargain of it. If the ditcher muses the while how he may live uprightly, the ditching spade and the turf knife may be engraved on the coat-of-arms of his posterity.I like that. Here are a couple more pictures; you can check out all of them I took -- a dozen or so -- RIGHT HERE. It was a beautiful day, and the work was a great way to enjoy it. Possibly the highlight of the winter so far!
Friday, January 2, 2009
A Helliana of a New Year
Sid's band HELLIANA played the Missoula Public Library for their "Happy New Year!" party. After hearing them bang away in the basement all day I was a little burned out, but the show was actually a lot of fun. They were sloppy but high octane; I'm pretty sure they enjoyed the hell out of it. Here's me before the show started, after I'd helped set up their gear and stuff, trying to look inconspicuous while being the oldest person there.
I tried filming one of their songs with my camera; it didn't turn out too bad at all.
They attempted a cover of Judas Priest's "Breaking the Law" though they just learned it today. It wasn't too bad, if a little sloppy. I sat in front of Dustin and mouthed the words for him. I like to think I helped.
Here are a few more pictures. The last one is Sid's friend Rob dressed up as "Leatherface" for their song, "Leatherface"; It is pretty funny -- he does a good job staggering around. I get a kick out of their enthusiastic metalness.
I tried filming one of their songs with my camera; it didn't turn out too bad at all.They attempted a cover of Judas Priest's "Breaking the Law" though they just learned it today. It wasn't too bad, if a little sloppy. I sat in front of Dustin and mouthed the words for him. I like to think I helped.
Here are a few more pictures. The last one is Sid's friend Rob dressed up as "Leatherface" for their song, "Leatherface"; It is pretty funny -- he does a good job staggering around. I get a kick out of their enthusiastic metalness.
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