I Declare

Turned 35 this morning. An announcement concerning my bid for the presidency in 2008 will come soon; I'm still talking it over with my family.

Pretty good year this year. Ending on a good note. Well, not for this guy. Great, now my birthday has to compete with Christmas, New Years, and the execution of Saddam.

Christmas with the extended family today, party at the house tonight. See you there.

Christmastime, Interrupted

About a week ago I wound up watching a bunch of people salsa dancing in a bar where not so long ago a bunch of people were swing dancing.

I tried that whole swing dancing thing when it got trendy, but I could never make it work. Love the music, but I just can't make my feet go the right way. I'm doomed to have horrible coordination, which is why I never participate in most public dancing or the occasional basement ping-pong tournament.

Spent my time buying T a couple of beers and chatting with some coworkers crammed into a corner booth. Eventually got out of there, headed to the car, but I felt like a pint so we walked to one of the only proper pubs in America's #2 Best City to Live.

Had a quick one, talked about plans for the Christmas break, listened to the middle-aged band playing your typical mix of Boring Adult Rock Hits of the 60s-90s. After I drained the last from my glass, we left, making sure to hold our breath as we walked past the man with incredibly noticeable b.o.

The night was warm, for December at least, and a thick fog had settled in. Street lights reflected off the wet streets and the trees glowed with strings of white Christmas lights. Got a few decent photos as well:





Might tinker with this one a bit more and make it a new banner:



Lots of birthdays this time of year, so I should take a minute and wish a Happy Birthday to both honestbush and MC, who, along with myself, have been stuck with having late-December birthdays. Never time to do a proper celebration when you're shoved in-between Christmas and New Years. Two more days and I join a new demographic. Ouch.

Christmas, Part One

The Second Annual Holiday Feast by Those Theater Guys, In Which I Have the Elder Statesman's Honor of Carving the Turkey.

Brems always gets the turkey leg.

There was also an argument about milk.



Watch the Video

Those guys are always a lot of fun, but like last year, after eating and helping clean up, I excused myself early. Let the young ones have fun their own way.

Oh, and before we hit midnight here in the midwest, Happy Boxing Day to those in the Commonwealth.

Back soon with more stories and pictures.

Apollo 8

On Christmas Eve 1968 three men broadcast this message from the orbit of the Earth's moon:



The world had been torn apart by The Vietnam War, a difficult presidential election, and the deaths of both Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy.

Bill Anders, Jim Lovell, and Frank Boorman were the first humans to visit the moon, and also witnessed the first Earthrise on their fourth pass around, which Anders captured in the picture featured below. (The picture also provides a link to Wikipedia's excellent Apollo 8 entry.)

Boorman described the moon as "a vast, lonely, forbidding type of existence or expanse of nothing." Lovell thought it looked like Plaster of Paris.

After their broadcast, after the risky Trans-Earth Injection burn of the SPS engine, as they reappeared from the dark side of the moon, after Mission Control reacquired their signal, Lovell announced, "Please be informed, there is a Santa Claus."

The three men were chosen to be Time's Men of the Year for 1968, and Lovell of course was the commander of the famous Apollo 13 mission.

One of the singular highlights of my life is when I met Jim Lovell at his Lake Forest restaurant a few years ago. Jumped up from my seat and shook his hand like I was a kid meeting Santa.

Whenever I wonder where this country, this world, is going, I always think of the achievements of the space programs of the world, and how even something dark and sinister like the Cold War politics of the age can produce something so inspiring, so lasting, so admirable.


"From the crew of Apollo 8, we pause with good night, good luck and merry Christmas and God bless all of you - all of you on the good earth."

Winter Solstice

Today is the Winter Solstice, which means that tonight will be the longest night of the year. After that, we start getting a bit more daylight with each rotation of the earth.

It's rainy but the temperature is mild today. Planned out some summer theater over a long lunch, did some Christmas shopping, and now I'm apparently going salsa dancing with T tonight. Which means we'll probably just stand around and watch other people dance forbidden-like.

I'm headed down to central Indiana for an early Christmas with lil' sis and her family on Saturday. I'll try another post or two over the next few days, but I'm sure we'll all be busy with holiday celebrations and travels.

Merry Christmas to everyone out there, near and far. Hope the road is safe, and that you arrive to a warm house with family and friends waiting for you.

Random Notes

Last day of work today before a nice long break. And since I haven't even started my Christmas shopping yet, I'm going to need all the time I can muster. All the money as well. Gonna be a tight Christmas this year, but the suits came through and paid me my club stipend early. (I run an after-school environmentalist/outdoors-type club.) So it's kind of like a Christmas bonus.

Neil Gaiman linked this for all you Coraline fans.

Blogger beta is now just a new version of Blogger, and from what I can tell, it's still kind of shitty. I have vague plans to switch this over to my own server next year, but I'm not quite there yet. One step at a time.

Spinning Girl marks the ten-year anniversary of Carl Sagan's death, and also comes eerily close to describing my job.

Speaking of, Sylkk's got a new home.

One more link: The PhoenixNYC offers up some good thoughts on user-created content and the role of "gatekeepers" in the media.

A Dash of Pepper

The other night I was trying to explain this song that was stuck in my head. Something about "mama quiero" and a "dash of pepper." It was from an old Tom and Jerry cartoon and I also remembered something about a cat dressed up like Carmen Miranda.

Cori just about spit out her cereal this morning when she saw it on TV, remembering my attempt to sing the song. And thanks to the miracle that is YouTube, I present for you the entire cartoon.

Watching it brought back about 50 other buried memories, including a vague one where my buddy Mike would imitate the little girl who dresses Tom up like a baby. Goddamn those cartoons kicked ass.

5 Things You Don't Know About Me

JaG tagged me to do this, and you can't ever refuse a hot Dutch girl, so here goes...

1. For a few years I worked as a hired hand on a farm. Fed cattle, shoveled pig shit, cultivated fields, etc.

2. I scored a perfect on my last written driver's exam.

3. While I usually say I grew up in Sandwich, Illinois, to be truthful I also lived in St. Cloud, Florida for a few of my early teen years. Not sure how that impacted my formative years, but it probably made me over-nostalgic for a small town that I ended up obsessing over for too long.

4. I was Colin Firth's stand-in for the film A Thousand Acres, filmed not too far from Sandwich. I could have had some screen time as a double for Keith Carradine, but I couldn't get a hold of a tractor on 24 hours notice (despite #1 above.)

5. I had a hernia operation when I was five years old. Tried lifting a cement block in my grandma's garage. Oops.

Does this mean I have to tag five more people? Because I'm surprised I did this much. Really. I'm no good at memes.

A Wonderful Night

(Click the above pic for a better view of the cast in action.)

After the curtain went down on my last several productions, I rarely felt happy. Usually felt uneasy, confused, and frustrated. What did I do wrong, where could we have done this or that better, why didn't they applaud at this line or laugh at that one.

Wasn't sure what to expect while putting this one together. Been trying to get back to my old self for quite a while now, while taking the slings and arrows from myself and others and trying to figure out where I took the wrong turns. A radio play of It's a Wonderful Life. A story I know well, for better or for worse.

Lots of pitfalls with such a well-known story. Gotta do it just right: too much like the movie, not enough like the movie. "Radio" lets you strip away all the clumsy styrofoam sets and preconceived visuals and suddenly you have to learn the story all over again.

Kids looked damn good in their suits and fedoras and bright red lipstick. Big black microphones and the dark piano and the utilitarian set design of the foley troupe all came together to create this small, perfect thing.


Just did one night, not knowing who would come, and one night is all we needed. Small crowd again, but they loved it, surprised at how entertaining it was to watch a radio show. Shook hands, hugged a few people, wished them Merry Christmas and gave a long-overdue mea culpa.
Wished I could have had everyone I knew in the audience that night, to share this great show, to repair the damage and to look towards better days to come, to wish everyone peace on earth, good will towards men.

Packed everything up, turned off the lights, closed the curtain. And in spite of the chill air, the chest infection, and the complete lack of physical energy, I felt like that guy I used to be.

FINAL UPDATE: Got the video link working properly--here's a short clip from the radio show, featuring Brems on Stereotypical Italian Voice.

Click To Play

A short film about the radio adaptation of It's a Wonderful Life we (limelight) did recently.

Bella the Magnificent

Two great things happened this weekend.

1. The show was really, really good. More on that later.

2. Bella gave me a Flickr PRO account for Christmas!

Lots of great pictures being uploaded and organized here. For now, thank you thank you thank you Bella, you wonderful Canadian friend from afar!

Flickr PRO

I cough and I hack and I ache and I can't sleep for nothing and I'm trying to get this show ready to go and I seem to have forgotten all about this other place where I work or something.

I'm also thinking of springing for the Flickr PRO account and phasing away from Buzznet. Just can't dig what they're selling these days.

Back soon.

George, Why Must You Torture the Children?

I've been working on a show for the past month, a small show, with a small cast and short rehearsal times.

It's a radio play production of It's a Wonderful Life. After last year's bizarre crazy make-'em-ups holiday show, I thought it might be a good idea to do something a bit more traditional. And doing "Life" as a radio play seemed to take away the burden of trying to recreate such an iconic story on the stage.

We do all the sound effects live on stage and a company of a dozen actors play over forty roles. It's been fun, and relaxing, and for the first time in quite a while I've stayed positive and haven't let myself get angry and frustrated over everything.

We're doing one show only this Friday, December 15th, at 7:00 at our usual home of Bednarcik Junior High. Not sure what kind of turnout we will have, but we will be making several ANNOUNCEMENTS regarding next summer's theatrical season, and so I encourage all of you Limelighters that read this thing to come support the show and learn what's coming up next.

It'll be worth your while, I promise.

John

The Light

Drove downtown yesterday to the hospital, to see an uncle of mine, an uncle that has a bad case of cancer.

Long story could follow, but I don't have the desire to write about it. Those that know me know the whole story, and those that don't, well, it's a long, sad tale that hasn't had many happy moments in the past several years. You've heard me rant about my father on here in the past, and this is all wrapped up with that situation.

Needless to say, it was a very difficult thing to do, to go to NMH while Michigan Avenue sparkled with lights and shoppers and the city snow still very white and wintry. The visit went well, better than expected, but there's still that dark angry side to everything, the thing that still gets me in the middle of the night and seeks to once again create division and hurt feelings between Jane and I.

So right now my thoughts are with my uncle, and they're with my cousins, and my sister, too, and they're with all those people out there in the world, all those people I know, the friends and the family and the estranged ones and the exes and the future ones. And I just want them all to be well and happy and I just want there to be nothing but peace and good will and now this story has gone on longer than it needed to.

So I hope all of you are well today, this cold wintry day, where the sun tries to peek out every now and then and it hits the snow and sometimes it's almost blinding, that light.

Kids and the Things They Say

More awesome 5th-grade conversation from the classroom...

Boy 1: "I'm John Wilkes Booth."*

Girl 1: "You're going to the crazy hospital!"**

Boy 2: "Uh, I believe it's pronounced 'loony bin.'

*Referring to some sort of class role-playing thing I'm guessing.

**Which isn't historically accurate--Booth was shot in the neck and died during his apprehension from a burning barn.

I'm off to Northwestern Memorial Hospital, people. More on that at a later date...

Blog Update

It's a good thing I had a snow day on Friday, because I spent most of my free time working on this new template.

I think it's just about finished. Holywriter, I agree: it's a bit too white right now (it's the anti-Myspace look,) but since I don't really know how to add boxes or borders to html templates, we'll have to leave it as is. Mark, glad you like the new look, although I wound up subconsciously stealing a few ideas from your layout. Consider it an homage...

Due to me being a public educator, I'm trying to distance myself from my real last name. It hasn't been much of a secret in the past, but from this point on it's probably best to use a pen name. Not that it'll chase away those that like to lurk here anonymously, waiting to slag me when the time is right, but that's what comment moderation is for I guess. (Hi Myrt!!)

You'll also find the archives have been repaired, and I've created a detailed list of what I would call the "best-of" from this blog. Updated all of my feed links and wish lists and PayPal buttons. Now if you wish to subscribe, send me presents or monetary donations, or read some of my past essays, everything is just a click away.

Consider this The State I'm In Version 2.0. The original version of this blog is done, to be replaced by a new look and a new direction. Not sure where it'll go, but I'm looking forward to the journey. Thanks to everyone that has stuck by this thing over the years, through the dark times and the occasional highlight.

Now, to teach myself how to vlog...

Thunder Snow 2006!!!

Supernintendo Chalmers called the first snow day of his five-year tenure in my district this morning, after a massive snow storm dumped 6+ inches of snow across northeastern Illinois.

It's not that bad by me yet, but it's expected to continue for several more hours. I had no less than two people request to crash at my house last night in order to avoid the long commute to work today. Mom won out, so honestbush decided to tough it out and make alternate arrangements.

So now I have a glorious three-day weekend to relax, read, and rest by my fire. Sometimes it's good to be a teacher...

Sales and Snake Oil

I never like it when I feel like I'm being sold something. Hell, no one does, right?

One of the big reasons I went into education is that I felt I wouldn't have to be selling anyone anything. Sold, bought, processed, etc. Didn't want any of that business, so to say.

Man, sometimes this job is nothing but selling. Always some new program that we all have to "get on board with", some hot new product that will solve all our problems. Which usually disappears after a couple of years when people realize it's just the same old shit wrapped up in a new box.

We're one of the fastest-growing districts in the nation, sometimes building 3-4 schools a year. And so of course we keep having to go to the community with our hat in our hands and ask for more money from referendums and tax increases. We're asked to knock on peoples' doors and call them at home during the dinner hour and remind them about the elections and the district's desperate need for more funding.

When I took this job the last thing I wanted to be was a salesman. You want the job of teacher to be divorced from that entirely, and most of the time it is. Students, lessons, teacher, methodology, etc. etc. Mix well and serve.

It's that other stuff, the stuff that sniffs of sales and snake oil, that's the stuff I want no part of.

This, That, and the Other Thing

I've been staring at this screen for several minutes now, trying to come up with a good blog topic. Ate lunch in my room today, to try and get out a posting before the afternoon work begins.

What the hell do I write about?

Several times now I've told myself to sit down and write up something, but nothing's coming. At least, it's not coming out the way I want it. I have the basic idea, but I can't seem to figure out how to stitch the words together so that it flows well and is readable.

I've been spending a good amount of time pondering over different careers, but sometimes it feels like I'm just throwing darts blindly at the board: "Oh, today I think I'll become a textbook editor!"

Cloudy and rainy today, but in the lowers 60s. Vancouver snow's headed our way, apparently.

Mind's elsewhere. This, That, and the Other Thing. What I do, what I want to do. Other Thing's weighing on me, wanting to break out, tired of it all being just This and That.

How many times have I written variations on that damn thought?

I just want to get to the damn fireworks factory.

Time to do something about it.

Routes, Highways, and Back Roads

It feels like I have been on every single damn road Illinois has to offer.

Last week was the road to the Quad Cities, I-88 west from Naperville to Rock Island and back again. This weekend it was another tour of roads and the small towns of northern and central Illinois.

Friday was a trip out to Leland, an hour's drive west of my home. Leland's a town of less than a thousand that is typical of the north Midwestern Scandinavian diaspora. I was attending the funeral of my Aunt Darla's mother, another Good Lutheran laid to rest. Looking at the names at the cemetery and on the church walls and it's all Larsons and Larsens and Gundersons.

Doubled back to Naperville and then down to Colfax, north of Bloomington, home of Hamish and his clan. My cousin Chris grew up in this very small town where the only neon sign is the Casey's gas station. Chris has returned to his high school to teach high school English and to direct the fall drama production, also featuring cousin Jake in his final performance before he graduates and heads off in his own direction.

Ridgeview High does their productions in one of those gymnasiums that has a stage tucked behind one of the basketball hoops, horrible for acoustics and one of those places where you do the best you can with what you have. Most of the kids are quiet, unassuming farm kids that stick together and whose drama ambitions are limited to the final performance on Saturday night.

I was damn proud of Chris and his efforts. I can relate all too well to what it's like to direct kids from the high school where you yourself graduated, on a stage that isn't really a stage. It is a good thing to return from where you were taught, to contribute, to teach, to direct. I did it myself, and while I'm glad I moved on, it was still the most rewarding experience I have had in my directing career.

Afterwards I drove north on country roads with poor lighting and very few cars passing me by, with my grandmother next to me. Talked about this and that in the middle of the night, opening up to her like I can to very few people, about the joys and burdens of being The Guy Who Stayed Close to Home, about family, and about how I missed being able to talk to Grandpa as a mature adult. It seems like at this point in my life I understand him so much better, and could have had such a great relationship with him.

Those long flat Illinois roads are a great way to clear your head and to listen to music and to do all that contemplating. You can go on and on and on in a straight line that only corrects itself for the curvature of the earth (or so Grandpa says), never hitting a stoplight or stop sign for miles and miles and miles. Those seductive flat highways, always taking you somewhere that wakes you up and slaps you in the face and reminds you that there is so much World out there.

Election Day 2006

Voted in the morning for the first time since...ever, I guess. (I usually vote after work.) Clubhouse in one of the many townhome complexes in my neighborhood.

It was a light election in my district (the fightin' 13th!) this year. Voted my choice for governor and said it was okay for the forest service to acquire more land.

Skipped over most of the second page (paper ballot!) because it was a bunch of Republicans running unopposed and really, what's the point? That was the only depressing part of my morning electoral actions. The massive amount of unopposed Republicans that seem to run everything around here.

Elsewhere they're voting on whether or not to give my school district $500 million dollars to basically double the number of schools we already have. Some guys have been trying to break the electioneering barrier outside my school, urging people to vote no, because things always turn out well when you underfund education in this country.

Down the road Denny Hastert will likely win reelection to another term as representative, although whether he retains his speakership remains to be seen.

I wear my "I Voted Today" sticker proudly, and I still get excited and proud about the fact that I can do this one small thing that becomes part of a greater thing. Tonight I'll hear stories about low voter turnout and lawsuits against Diebold and allegations of fraud and long-winded commentaries about What It All Means, but for now it still feels good to be a voting American.

What's the story out there, America? Any good election stories to share? Comment or email them to me and add to the written record.

The Quad Cities in brief:

The Mississippi River impresses no matter how many times you see it.

Some of the downtowns have seen better days. Ever been to one of the once-mighty river towns of the Midwest? Cities with wide streets and grand buildings struggling to find purpose in a new century that doesn't know what to do with them.

Augustana College has a lovely campus and a small theatre that needs its heating fixed. Supported one of the Limelight family and brought a motley crew to see a show.

Felt bloated and thick after a calzone at Pizza and Subs (hmm, I wonder what they serve there?) and felt broke and cheated after crappy mussels and overpriced scotch at the Blue Cat. (Yep, Padawan, I went there, and I'd go back tomorrow for that pumpkin beer.)

Oh yeah, and there were multicades everywhere I went.

Donkey Kong, Budweiser, and Led Zeppelin on the jukebox. A lingering cloud of cigarette smoke. Greasy food.

Felt like it was 1983.

Wind Burn

My face has felt tight and wind-burned for most of this week.

I've been running from place to place for several days now; one job ends and another one begins.

Fire Marshall says we can no longer store materials on the stage, and so last night I packed up my entire theatre program (give or take some chairs, fake trees, and a rack of costumes) and sent it off to deep storage. DO NOT OPEN UNTIL SUMMER 2007.

Scrap wood and four sets of stairs had been cluttering up the place and it was time to clean house, but when I showed up tonight for the first rehearsal of the new show and I looked at the empty stage it felt like something had been lost, like we were back to being this transitory thing, a ghost of a theatre company.

Halloween came and went in a recycled costume at work and an empty movie theatre at night. Pretty much no one knows who Speed Racer is anymore, just so you know, so my streak of completely obscure costume choices is alive and kicking.

Didn't feel like passing candy out to junior high kids who don't even make an attempt to dress up. The younger ones must head off to the nicer Naperville neighborhoods. Went to the movies and finally saw Marie Antoinette.

Maybe it's a chick flick, but I don't really care about that shit. I like what I like. Lost in Translation was one of the best films I saw in the last five years and Sofia knows what she's doing with sound and images. Isolation and expectations and New Order and watching the sun rise from Versailles. Magnificent.

Saturday I get to hit the fucking road and head to a new place. The Quad Cities, we call it. Davenport and Bettendorf, Iowa, and Rock Island and Moline, Illinois. Couple of hours west of here, four cities that ride the Mississippi River. One of the Limelighters directed a show at Augustana and we're heading west to check it out.

I could use a few hours on the road, with music and jokes and a packed bag and a hotel room waiting and new streets to walk and explore. I could use a lot of that, actually.

The skin on my face feels tight and my brow tightens as my eyes squint out towards what happens next.

Kerry that Weight

And so Senator Kerry decided to apologize for the "botched joke" after all.

Yesterday he was looking pretty good, standing his ground and sticking to his guns. It was a slam on the incompetence of the Bush administration, not a slam on the troops, he said. Okay, I believed that. The Republicans were just trying to make something out of nothing, looking for any chance to gain some ground before next Tuesday.

But dammit Mr. Senator, why did you have to apologize? Now you just made everything they said about you "true" in the court of public opinion. I believed that you wouldn't make a disparaging remark about troops fighting overseas, because you were one yourself and seemed to understand all too well what it was like to be fighting an unpopular war, wondering who would be the last man to die for a mistake.

You say you're just apologizing for telling the joke wrong, but that's not how people will see it. The political divide is so wide, and the right and left are so far apart from each other, that it has become harder and harder to see events clearly. The Right hears about an event through Rush or Fox, and the Left hears about it through Countdown or Colbert. Each has their version of the story, and the "truthiness" of this incident is already hard to discover.

You should have stood your ground and refused an inch. Now you've issued "an apology" and have cancelled public appearances and everyone is running away from you. And you're not even running for anything.

Now the Fat Fucks can point their fingers and say "See! SEE!!!! They hate our troops, just like the terrorists!" Cheney gets to say "Oh, so he was for the joke before he was against it!" And doubt about the Democrats' ability to lead has once again crept back into many an undecided voter's thoughts.

Way to fuck things up, Senator.

(There is another way to look at this incident: Kerry stood his ground, but everyone else ran away from him, freaking out about their own election chances next week. Due to the potential damage to Democratic chances if nothing was done to minimize damage, Kerry is forced to fall on his sword and take the blame, sparing others from the collateral damage of a good man once again putting his stupid foot in his stupid mouth.)

Thoughts, vox populi?

Bridge to Nowhere

Oh dear God someone help me because I CANNOT STOP THROWING UP.

Follow the link if you dare. If you dare to watch something good and perfect be horrifically mangled beyond all recognition.

Thank you, Hollywood, for once again completely destroying the entire meaning behind a classic of children's literature.

Stay-at-Home Uncle

Saturday was supposed to be the big Halloween party at my house. I always love seeing what people choose for their costumes; it's a great chance for some real creativity to come out. And I know that many of us were wondering what the Tech Crew would come up with for this year.

Sadly, I had to cancel that Halloween party, because Saturday was also my Mom's birthday, and when it comes down to it, you don't have a Halloween party on your Mom's birthday, unless said Mom is going to attend the party.

Rather than have my friends confess their hidden crushes for Brian's Mom, I spent the day with my nieces. First we drove the long haul back up to the northern suburbs to see the 3-D Nightmare Before Christmas, which is of course their favorite movie. Because their uncle is cool and tries to expose them to the offbeat shit out there.

The rest of the time was spent outdoors at Mom and Dave's raking up leaves for the girls to jump in, or conspiring with my brother-in-law to scare the crap out of the girls when they least expected it. At one point some high school kids rang the doorbell asking for items for a scavenger hunt. It must be tradition, because 20-odd years ago I and several friends had a scavenger hunt in the same exact neighborhood, and both times are the only times I ever remember anyone ever doing a scavenger hunt.

All of this brings me back to that dream I had a week or so ago, the one where I'm running around to all my different groups of friends, trying to be with all of them and in the end just disappointing them. (At least, that's my interpretation of it.)

I'm an extremely lucky guy in that I do have lots of friends, and one of the benefits of never bothering to go far from home is that you get to spend a lot of quality time with family. So while I got to have some great family time, especially with the girls, I had to disappoint some people and cancel the party. I feel bad, but you don't really get a chance very often to watch your brother-in-law almost plummet to his death when he nearly falls out of a tree.

Priceless.

Stars from the Darkest Night

Friday night was Bob Dylan at the new Sears Centre in Hoffman Estates. Due to an undersold show our balcony-level tickets were upgraded to Club Level and so we got to be big fancy Hollywood types and sit in padded chairs and watch people eat chicken satay while the Kings of Leon opened up.

Drank some Stella and got talking to Joe and Charlie, a couple of guys in their mid-40s. Talked music and shitty Chicago radio and missed all of the opening band because the conversation was so good. Those guys were all right.

Dylan's set was by-the-numbers but still good, and I give him lots of credit for leaning heavily on the newer stuff. "Thunder on the Mountain" and "High Water" were just as good live as "Highway 61" and "Tangled Up in Blue." Hard to enjoy a show in a place designed for hockey, though, stuck up in the Club Level where the padded seats haven't absorbed years of nicotine and liquor spills.

While the show wasn't as memorable as other Dylan performances I've seen (the Illinois State Fair show remains the highlight for me), he did play "Boots of Spanish Leather," which nearly brought tears to my eyes. Big fan, big fan of that song, folks.

The concert ended and Dylan and the band lined up in front for a bow and we all filed out of the arena. Some drunk dude from California mixed in with our group and complained that his night was ruined because he didn't hear "Lay Fucking Lady Lay!"

Played parking lot politics with the usual chaos and confusion of getting out of a concert and drove south through the western suburbs and thought about "Boots of Spanish Leather" the whole way home.

Johnny Cash Lives

Greatest. Live Performance. Ever.

Give it a minute...wait for Robbins' speech to end, and enjoy. Pure awesomeness.

Halloween Hipster

Might be a light week for blogging, folks. Lots to do in an already-busy week: Two high school drama productions to attend, a Bob Dylan concert Friday night (awesome), a mother's birthday, and a Halloween party Saturday night. Damn--I still don't have a costume to wear, and I would like to avoid the obscure-hipster-movie character thing that I usually do.

Lots to write about, though, so I'll do my best to get something out soon, especially since I seem to be on a roll again.

The iPod turns Five today, The Fencepost is up and running again, and the Beeb reports that riots in France could happen again.

Drone Jr.

Ring them bells, raise your glass, and give a hearty cheer for the Drone and his wife, who welcomed their first child into the world yesterday afternoon! All is well with the Family 1047 and Agent 86 will most likely be home on Sunday.

If only Nurse Betty could have held out one day more he could have shared his birthday with the MBA, who celebrates today, so while you got those glasses raised, people, don't forget him.

This post probably doesn't make a damn bit of sense, but you get the general idea. Good friend's wife gives birth and much merriment ensues.

November 2006 looms...

Lots of talk these days about the U.S. and Iraq. Baker wants to meet with Bush and give his plan for a way out. Now today comes word that the U.S. military is "rethinking" their role in Iraq, admitting they can't control the violence and are going to look at other ways to control the emerging civil war.

All of this is because an election is coming in a few weeks, and those in power want to remain in power. The Republican administration knows things are going horribly wrong in Iraq, and if it looks like they're finally willing to admit their mistakes and try alternative means to victory, maybe that'll turn into a victory on November 7th?

At first I was deeply troubled by the fact that it takes an election to force our leaders to admit their strategies are wrong. I would like to think that decisions are made because they're the logical, correct decisions, and not being made because polls are trending Democratic and congressmen are quaking in their boots.

But wait! Perhaps that's the whole point of elections. Maybe that's how these things work: a national biannual referendum on our leaders. The vox populi voted in these bastards, but that's what gets rid of them as well. If this wasn't an election year, perhaps the war could drag on and on and on until the next even-numbered year, as more people die and more anti-U.S. sentiment is created.

Maybe the election will be the thing that will finally end this thing. And maybe there's hope for democracy after all.

Six Thousand Years Old

As my students were leaving class today, one kid asks me, "How old is the Earth?"

I quickly answer back, not really thinking about why he asked. "About 5 billion years or so."

"Oh. Well, I think it's only about six thousand years old." (And now I know where this is going.)

I sat and listened while he explained to me some dating system based on Jesus' birth and Noah and the Ark, and why carbon dating didn't work. Please remember that this kid is 11. And also one of the most intelligent kids in the building.

As he finished I politely said, "Well, people have different points of view on that I suppose. I guess I just trust the scientists when they say it's that old."

"Well, I trust God."

I don't even know what to say to that, folks. Is it my job as an educator to point the child towards rational, scientific fact, or to just nod and smile and let them believe what they want to believe? I did the latter, but would have preferred to do the former, since that seems to be what's in my actual job description.

I just said nothing and told him I'd see him next week.

The Theatre

You know how when people in TV and movies have dreams it's all very symbolic and has great meaning on the plots of peoples' lives? But when we have dreams it's usually just a mish-mash of the day's events and stuff that barely makes sense?

I had the strangest dream just now.

I went to the movies and every single friend I have was at the show.

Walked in with Brems and the theatre gang to go see a Jet Li action film. This makes sense, because if I do go to the movies it's usually with those guys. But as we were walking in I discovered that another group of friends (let's call them Work Friends Version 2.0) had saved me a seat and that it was expected that I was sitting with them.

Before long the friends from high school and college entered the theatre and came over to say hello. Old School Gang were in town for a funeral or something like that. After talking to them for a while I lost sight of where I had been sitting and started wandering around the theatre. Found Work Gang 2 and sitting a few seats behind them was Work Gang 1, and so I got talking to them for a while, and once again lost where my seat was.

It's probably significant to point out that no one, and absolutely no one was watching the movie. Apparently it was really boring and half the patrons had left the theatre. One person even started firing up Phillies Blunts in the middle of it to keep himself entertained. T was wrapped up in a bunch of blankets with either her parents or her old roommate, I can't remember now. Prince Fan was there with her folks as well.

Nate was wearing shorts and the theatre gang were all wearing black. I was carrying half of a bottle of red wine with me and never saw more than a minute of the film, my back always being turned away from the screen, trying desperately to find where I was supposed to sit.

The film ended and everyone started filing out. I watched T and Duder and the rest leave and tried to catch up with them but once again was surrounded by the Old School Gang and was given the impression that I was supposed to leave with them. We started walking out one of those side exits from the auditorium and I looked for a garbage can to throw out the wine.

Then I woke up.

(Written rather hurridly early this morning right after I woke up; edited this evening. I'm telling you, this dream freaked me out. After I came out of it, I felt like I had suddenly been given a clue into the entire nature of my being or some shit like that. Freaky deaky, man.)

What Kind of Show Has It Been

Not a very good one, if you ask me.

This hurts me to say it, being the Aaron Sorkin nut that I am, but Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip is... not that great.

It disappoints me to say it, and I've been holding out these past few weeks, hoping that the show finds its groove, its timing, and its reason for existence, but it just ain't happening.

I don't really care for the characters, and so I don't really care what happens to them. Matt and Harriet and yet another will-they-or-won't-they situation? Bleah.

The show has potential, I believe that firmly, given the talent involved in front of and behind the camera. But Sorkin just seems to be using the show as a means to start a national discussion rant on the Christian right and why it was so, so mean of NBC to fire him from The West Wing.

Now I don't really need to point out the fact that I too can come across as self-righteous and smug about the Christian Right, but I write a dinky blog that a handful of people read. I expect more from the so-called "credentialed" pros.

I guess I'm just disappointed in Aaron Sorkin. He's so much better than what Studio 60 has been. His shows, always concerned with passionate people committed to their professions, can literally inspire to you be more devoted to your job, your friends, or at least your grammar skills.

For a show that's supposed to be about a comedy show, they forgot one important element: They forgot to bring the funny. Skits about Juliette Lewis and a Wild at Heart-era Nicholas Cage would be really funny in 1993, but not now.

Maybe, if it's given enough time, Studio 60 will run out of Sorkin Grudge Topics and will become a decent show. My first suggestion would be to find a crack comedic actress that can rattle off that dialogue better than Peet and Paulson. Bring Sabrina Lloyd back from TV Limbo, hell, have her play Natalie Hurley again for that matter. She ain't no gal Friday.

She's good.

Wandering Jones

A week or so I joked about how the weekend up in Door County would be where it all went wrong. Of course that didn't happen, but the trip did have one "negative" effect:

I've got that wanderin' feeling again.

Pack a bag, pick the essentials, and hit the road. That's what I like to do, we all know that. So now after the little road trip up north I just want to keep going. Work seems grey and boring, and the coming winter isn't looking too promising. And I'm out of firewood.

Tony Pierce's neverending road trip isn't helping, either. Now, sometimes I can take or leave Tony, but I have to tip my hat to him. He's been spending the last thirty-odd days driving from LA to the East Coast and back again. Along the way he's been meeting blogger after blogger, hanging out, drinking, doing video interviews, and seeing the country one state at a time.

I want that job.

So that's why I give him a lot of credit. He's doing what he wants to do, and he's not afraid to fuck up or get fired or even bother with a false name.

And this is where I agree with my #1 Critic: I've always been too timid to stretch too far beyond my comfort zone, always stuck around home. And this is probably why I'm so restless and get that wandering jones so much.

Hmm, Wandering Jones.... I like it.

To Be Continued, I'm Sure...

The Pogues, Remastered

You can now get every single damn song The Pogues ever recorded on iTunes.

Okay, most of 'em, at least. A bunch that weren't available before. And all of the albums are now remastered.

My freshman year of college, I was playing a Pogues album. Probably Peace and Love, since that's about all I owned at that point. This guy knocks on my door. Indian guy. "Are you playing The Pogues?"

Yep.

His name is Sujit. And he has a copy of their first album, one of the ones that you can't get in the U.S. (This is back in the days of Imports, kids.) I make a taped copy of it and it lasts a year or so before getting eaten by a portable stereo back home in the shower.

I eventually found Red Roses For Me at a record shop, but it was missing three songs that I knew from Sujit's version. Apparently he had an Asian version that had bonus tracks or something.

But thanks to iTunes, after 15 years, I now have those missing tracks, plus a dozen or so new ones that I never heard before.

The Pogues fucking rock, ya'll. Yes, Donal, it's just a variation on diddle-ee-ii music, but I love that shit, because that's what created American bluegrass, and that's what my grandpa loved, and that's what my mother loved, and because that's the way these things work, that's what I love as well. That crazy drunken folk music that people sing in the corner together and understand their present and their past all at the same time.

I'm the Driver, I'm the Winner

When you look at a map of Wisconsin, and you look at that little northern spur that sticks out into Lake Michigan, you're looking at Door County.

A popular location for weekenders and summers-in-the-family-cabin people, it consists of small towns with populations all under a thousand people. Small shops and restaurants and plenty of resorts and bed and breakfasts. No McDonalds, no Starbucks. Lots of trees and lots of water.

Erica's family has a cabin on 28 acres, which is where I spent all of Columbus Day weekend. After ducking out of work on Friday I wound up volunteering to drive the mini-van the 5-6 hours it would take to get to northern Wisconsin. Packed to the gills, with Francine the Wonder Pit Bull squeezed into a small opening in the back, we left the big cities of Chicago and Milwaukee and watched the landscape give way to forests and fields and the fall colors at their peak.

It was about twenty minutes before we reached the cabin that Erica exclaimed, "I forgot the keys!"

It's a good thing she has family up there and could grab a spare set, otherwise I think it would have been a race to see who would throw Erica into Green Bay first.

It was those first moments of arriving and settling in to the cabin that I enjoyed the most. Bringing the bags in, turning on the lights, pouring ourselves a drink and starting a fire, while T did a little schoolwork and Zander fell asleep in his crib.

Most of the weekend was spent lounging in the cabin, hiking through the woods, and visiting some of the sights of Door County. Breakfast burritos to nurse a hangover, wine-tasting and pumpkin festivals, the Packers on the radio and card games at night.

Fairly unremarkable to describe, but a joy to experience. As you all know, I tend to travel alone, the solitary wanderer who all too often shies away from group activities. I had a lingering fear that I would want to constantly retreat into my head, pull back from the fun-with-friends, the way I often have done in the past. Hard to explain why I do it, but it's just one of those things I do too much.

It was to my great surprise that instead I found myself the One Who Got Things Done all weekend. Organized the packing, made sure people were fed properly, drove through the heavy city traffic. Everyone else did their share, don't get me wrong. But usually I just hang back in group functions, a passive observer.

Sure was different this time. Found myself stepping up when needed, and it was a good feeling. For a guy whose self-esteem has taken a real beating over the past few years, that's kind of huge.

Great to hang with T again; almost forgot what good friends we were. Thanks for laughing at all my jokes. And thanks to the Dynamic Duders for a great weekend. We gotta do that again sometime.

Leaf-Peeping

No more blogging or commenting for the next few days, folks.* I'm off to that mecca of midwestern autumn leaf-peeping, Door County. For the next few days I will be amongst trees and trails and friends and large quantities of dark beer.

This is the thing that all the married couples do, so wish me luck, as I'm most definitely not a married-couple-type person, nor do I do many of the things that married couples do. (There's probably about a dozen jokes about sex that I could make here, but I'll keep this PG today.)

For a long time I used to think Door County was like the World's Largest Craft Fair, but from what I hear it's actually quite beautiful and there's plenty of outdoorsy things to do. I have a feeling, though, that the extent of our outdoorsy-ness will be watching Duder take a piss in the backyard.**

So, next week get set for stories involving lighthouses, pumpkin festivals, and which parts of the evening had to be explained to me the next morning. Because when you mix friends and alcohol and me, It's not a matter of if I make a jackass out of myself, but how often. Hooray for the socially acceptable drinking problem!***

*Or email. Or television. Or clear cell phone connections. Oh dear God what am I going to do?

**Joke blatantly stolen from either Mrs. Duder or T. I don't really remember right now.

***Just being sarcastic. It's all good with me and booze. Except when I'm drinking with Duder, so we'll later refer to this weekend as the Moment Where It All Went Wrong.

Fire, Tornado, Gunfire

In the wake of the recent school shooting across the country (now there's a sentence you love to type), I thought I would share the perspective from an elementary school.

As we do every year, the staff gathered and went over the building crisis plan. What to do in case of fire, tornado, and that old chestnut, Armed Intruder. We have complex steps and a detailed plan of action in case a bomb threat, toxic spill, or sudden cold front threatens the safety of your child.

It sounds like I'm being sarcastic, but I'm really not. We have all of the necessary steps in place, for any eventuality. Because we have to. Because it happens. We've had these detailed plans in place since at least Columbine, during my first year of teaching.

While the Amish one-room schoolhouse certainly didn't have a detailed emergency plan (much less a phone), I can probably hazard a guess that those schools in Wisconsin and Colorado did last week, and yet people still were killed. What I can't seem to ascertain is whether the crisis plans were effective or not in these incidents. Were people saved thanks to a detailed plan, or did it go out the window once the shooting started? How do people respond once the shit goes down? How would I, or my co-workers?

Now schools are talking about revising their emergency plans, just as we revised ours again this morning. But it's just another example of people trying to fix something after it's long been broken.

What I still can't fathom is the fact that we even have to have something like this in place. Fire, tornado, that's one thing. But I still can't wrap my head around the fact that in addition to aligning curriculum to state standards and collecting money for after-school clubs, I also have to know where the best place in my room is to avoid machine-gun fire.

Wilco at The Auditorium Theatre

For those of you with good musical taste who live in the Chicago area...

Wilco, the Best Band in America, is playing at the Auditorium Theatre over Thanksgiving weekend. Just so you know.

Kristine, you should totally come see them play! I'm sure it's no sweat getting here from the Philippines.

Click here for touring information. Peace out.

--The Boy With Poetry Power

The Astonishing X-Men and other nerdy matters

I'm disappointed in my reading habits this year. I burned through books like mad last year, but this year I haven't gotten through more than a few. Planned on starting another Rutherfurd book but it's still sitting on the nightstand, unopened.

Admittedly, I've been digging back into the comic book habit a bit. The awfulness that was X-Men: The Last Stand drove me to discover better-told X-Men stories, and I found that in Grant Morrison's run on New X-Men and the more-recently published Astonishing X-Men by Joss Whedon. Astonishing reminds me most of those character-driven Chris Claremont issues of the mid-80s, and of course it has Kitty Pryde, which is always a plus in my (comic) book.

In other geek reads, I've been nosing through Order of the Phoenix for the second time, and so far it still holds up as the "best" Harry Potter book in my opinion. While not as showy as Goblet of Fire, it's the book that feels the most grown-up, imploding the last little bits of its happy-little-magic-land.

Harry's an asshole (but for good reason), the Ministry of Magic is shown as a hypocritical, bureaucratic disaster (like most governments), and Dolores Umbridge makes for a pretty psycho-ass villain. Plus, you've got a secret society meeting in a decrepit mansion, Fred and George's farewell, and that incredible moment when the ministry officials are coming to get Dumbledore and he just takes them out and Bam! disappears into the night. That'll look quite cool in the film version.

And in case I don't sound nerdy enough at this point, I'll just add two more things: Heroes is actually a pretty good comic-book style adventure, and of course Battlestar Galactica returns Friday night, which better damn well record on my DVR this weekend while I'm out of town. (In spite of my extremely nerdy tastes, I do have a life and am heading north for the weekend with some friends.)

'Nuff Said.

When the Rain Comes

Knock Knock!

Who's there?

Rain!

Rain who?

Holy Fuck you should see all this fucking rain!

Bloglife

Interesting things happening in the world o' blogs. JaG says she's not reading blogs any more, while it seems others have stopped blogging altogether. Perhaps we've gone through another round or so of people who dipped into this habit, liked it for a while, but let it drift away, stranding their blogs in the middle of nowhere, the same final post just sitting there, like a dusty car on the side of the road.

Visits and comments on here have declined a bit as well, but that's probably due to a variety of factors. One, I don't update all that frequently. I can imagine the frustration of coming here and seeing nothing new. I give credit and thanks to those that keep coming back, though. Also, the moderation setting on the comments is probably annoying, but I think we all know why that has to be there.

And a big reason they've declined is that I haven't been commenting as much on other blogs lately, being busy with work and life and all of that normal boring stuff. And commenting is reciprocal; you have to give as much as you get in this business. I'm horrible on Buzznet these days, being too busy getting out the last of the vacation photos online. Haven't had the time to scroll through other peoples' pictures as much, so I'm being a bad Buzznetter.

So in spite of the flat status of comments and visits, at this time let me say hello and thanks for stopping by to two recent visitors to this blog: Marisa and the Spinning Girl are the first "new" commenters I've had in quite a while, and that gives me hope that the blog-world is alive and well and there are still people out there who have interesting things to say and want to make at least the briefest of connections with another person out there in that big wide world.

Hepburn and The Gap

Been fighting a cold off and on for a week. Work all day then spend most of the evening in front of the television, in bed before 10, asleep before 11 most nights. Nothing like a small cold to make you feel like you're 80 years old, eh?

Hoping to get out of the house this weekend, maybe another hike through the arboretum or get into the city a bit. Haven't been in Chicago proper for quite a while. I think there was an exhibit at the Museum of Contemporary Art that looked interesting. Maybe check that out.

I've had enough TV for a while. If I see that damn Gap commerical with Audrey Hepburn one more time, that might make me crack up. And I really can't handle School for Scoundrels being shoved down my throat. Please, Hollywood, just stop forcing me to like Jon Heder. Or if nothing else, don't let Ben Stiller have any more cameos where he has a bad accent and equally bad facial hair.

Now that the American government is officially in the torture business, I think they could add network television advertisements on their list of approved methods. Water boarding, stress positions, and NBC promos. That's what would make me crack.

Norman Borlaug

There was an article about Africa in my mailbox this morning. New Boss wants me to start up an Eco Club at school, to better educate the kids about the environment and what they can do to help save it. He and I both agree that it shouldn't just be about recycling and thinking that trees are "nice." Best thing to do is to get the kids to have a better appreciation for the outdoors and the natural world, since all they hear is doom and gloom when think of "the environment."

I'd also like the kids to have a better awareness of their world, and the challenges different countries face in environmental terms, which is where that article about Africa comes in. An excerpt:

Hundreds of billions of dollars have been spent over the past half-century trying to do something about the region's crushing poverty, but the situation remains desperate. Rural Africa is hollowing out, unable to feed itself, let alone supply food to the continent's rapidly growing megacities.

The Gates and Rockefeller foundations are stepping in with $150 million, but what they really need is another Norman Borlaug. West Wing fans may recall his name being dropped in that episode about the deposed African president. I spent a little time over lunch today reading about Borlaug, and it's some pretty amazing stuff. He's spent his entire life working on wheat hybrids that allowed starving countries to feed themselves and won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1970. He's credited with saving over a billion lives in India and Pakistan with his "dwarf wheat" and is referred to by Penn and Teller as The Greatest Human Being Who Ever Lived. He's still alive and in the past couple of decades has been working on solving Africa's farming problems, so I guess they don't technically need another Norman Borlaug.

He's not without his critics, though. Borlaug's hypothesis states that since farmland isn't really increasing, what you gotta do is work on higher yields with the land you have. And so he promotes genetic crossbreeding, use of fertilizer, and other "modern" farming techniques in order to get countries the ability to feed themselves.

It's obvious that the world is getting better at feeding itself, but Africa still has a long ways to go. So, all I gotta do is produce another Norman Borlaug here at school and we should be in pretty good shape. Wish me luck.

The Perfesser Gets Out of the House

Heard the Mates of State were playing in Dekalb Monday night. Pretty much my favorite band to listen to right now, and so I ran through the list of people that would want to catch a show on a Monday night. It took me about 20 minutes to realize that a good friend of mine lived in Dekalb, and so yesterday afternoon I cleared off the desk and jumped on the tollway west to the home of NIU, a school I attended for a brief time ten years ago.

Since then they've added a few things, including The House Cafe, a pretty damn decent place to see a show. First had a few beers and some food at a pub across the street and shot the shit about the new Dylan album and Limelight plans. Before long Brems ran into a guy he went to school with and so we had another round with Kyle and Amber before heading back out into the rapidly cooling air to join the line for the show.

By the time the show really got going I should have been in bed but that was the last thing on my mind. Kyle and Amber were easy to talk to, like people I had known for years and years. Small-town hipsters, like the guys I used to hang out with during my year at the community college. People who spend more money on gas to get to the show than for the actual tickets.

Brems ran into another guy he knew, a former high school teacher (which now made me not the oldest guy at the all-ages show, thankfully). Then I saw a guy named Justin that I knew back from my days directing high school musicals in the old hometown. Suddenly we're all part of this strange interconnected group that stretched from Sandwich to Southern Illinois University.

Shouted to each other over the opening band, drank Blue Moon on a Monday, weaved through the latest version of young indie/emo fashionistas discussing Conor Oberst trying to find the pisser, it all took me back about ten years and change. Nothing much changed and a lot had changed. Mates of State took the stage and for all I knew it could have been Belly or Velocity Girl or fucking Catherine Wheel.

The band kicked some major ass and I knew most of the tunes and did that strange little stuck-in-one spot bob and weave that you do in a packed club.

Mostly played stuff from Bring it Back and the EP with "Goods" on it. a husband-and-wife duo, keyboards and drums. Kori Gardner does some wicked shit with those keyboards, creating a wall of sound sometimes rivaled The New Pornographers for pop brilliance. Jason Hammel did the duties of drummer and bass player and somehow managed to make two or three voices come out of his mouth at the same time.

The Mates finished up their set and we all filed out and said our goodbyes and as I drove eastward towards home I asked myself why would I possibly have wanted to be anywhere else in the world?

A great night.

Blogger beta

Yeah, blogger beta pretty much blows. It blows worse than the graphics team on Sports Night.

How's that for a reference, eh Kate?

(Sorry, I stayed in tonight and I've been dicking around a bit too long on the ole computer.)

Pluto

Unlike most people out there, the loss of Pluto's planetary status didn't really get to me. I guess I had a very pragmatic approach to it: if it can't be scientifically classified as a planet, then it should'nt be called one. Science is about getting it right, and while we may feel a twinge of nostalgic pity for small, faraway Pluto, I suppose there were people that felt bad when they learned that the universe didn't revolve around the Earth.

Besides, as our understanding of the wide universe expands, we get cool new planets like this one:

(There used to be a picture here. USED to be.)

It may be stuck with the less-glamorous name of HAT-P-1, but it's so light and fluffy it could float in a giant planet-sized glass of water! That's something, innit?

Das Rheingold

I'm in the process of changing this blog over to Blogger beta, which is supposed to be better, but right now it's just causing things to be all dicked up on here.

Right now there are no archives, but that's okay because they were all messed up anyway.

As of now, though, I can't comment on any blogs that are using the "regular" Blogger commenting system; only those that have switched to beta. So if you miss my comments, switch to Blogger beta, or better yet, get Halo Scan, which is about fifty times better than Blogger's commenting system.

And now, may I suggest a good movie to watch? And by watch I mean carefully watch, and not just play in the background. Even though you might be turned off by Colin Farrell starring in it, or the fact that it's about Pocahontas and the founding of Jamestown, I can't stop thinking about The New World.

It might get slow in the middle, but stick with it. The first five minutes are worth the price of rental alone. Gorgeous deep-focus shots of ships and Indians and water and trees and nervous faces while the prelude from Wagner's Das Rheingold plays over it all.

Had to look that bit up about Wagner, and so now I'm fairly well obsessed with the Ring cycle as well. About time, considering how nerdy I get about that other Ring story.

September 11th: 5 Years Later

I haven't been able to come up with the proper words to describe what goes through my head when I consider the events of September 11th.

They weigh heavy on me. I woke up a few times last night, and my first thoughts were always, "today will be September 11th."

It's been five years since they brought the kids in early to school, when I ran down the hall, watching my students file into the room, sooner than usual. News on the radio and pictures coming through slowly on my computer, a horrible helpless feeling as I taught through the morning not really knowing what was going on. The face of a fellow teacher as he met my eyes as we sat down at lunch to watch what was happening.

The material of my couch at home, that's what I remember for some reason. I sat there for hours after school and just watched it all happen, just like everyone else did. The soft, corduroy-like feel of that blue couch.

Weird, almost enjoyable sensation of being really alive. That's the only good thing I remember about those first hours and days. This wonderful and horrible feeling of being very, very alive. Everything crystal-clear and sharp.

Nothing has really been that clear ever since. It's been a long five years, watching and wondering where this country is going, where it's being led, where its citizens are letting it be taken. Hoped there would be this renaissance of thought and concern and greater understanding of what was important in life. And maybe that's happened to some people, but not enough, I fear. Not enough.

The national nervous breakdown is what Hunter Thompson called it, I think. In the years following everyone found their own hole to stick their head in, to protect themselves against a lurking dread. Reality television or booze or unquestioning patriotism. Some stood tall and knew the right things to do and the right words to say from the very beginning, while others stumbled and lost their way.

And for all its missteps and misdeeds, despite the fact that I strongly disagree with the direction it has been taken by our current leadership, I still love this country.

I believe that there is an America out there that is smart and compassionate and wants nothing more than to be a force for good in this world. There is an America out there that raises good kids who know right from wrong and will grow up to do wonderful things. There is an America out there that is filled with bold leaders, talented musicians and writers, and people who know how to make a great cheeseburger.

There is an America to be proud of out there, but it's been hidden behind the curtain of dust and haze of September 11th.

It is up to us, its citizens, to remind everyone of America's proud past and its limitless potential. It's up to us to stand together and not let this great country stumble and fail. It's up to us to pick it up again.

No sense in running away and hiding from the bad stuff, no sense in running away when things get dark. Like it was said once before, when you can't run anymore, you crawl, and when you can't do that, you find someone to carry you.

To all of you out there, family and friends, I wish you peace on this day of remembrance. May we all live to see happier times together.

Welsh foliage

Damn, I said I was going to keep this thing going, didn't I?

Not much to talk about right now. Work is work, starting off fine. Sandwich Fair tomorrow night, so maybe for once I'll remember my camera and take some pictures of county fair goodness.

I'll probably get back to the trip one of these days, try to do some real writing about it. In the meantime here are a few decent pictures from the first few days. I've been posting them a few at a time over at Buzznet, and I'm only through the first four days of the trip. Took lots of pics with the new camera.

So if you like travel and pictures of Welsh foliage, head over to the pictures and enjoy. One of these days I'll find something else to take pictures of, but for now, it's nothing but travel, travel, travel around here.

Spitting from the Mountain

Summer came crashing to a cool, drizzly halt today as my ninth year in my district began today. Once again I was behind the wheel of the Opening Day ceremonies, and it's a good idea they don't listen to my private panic attacks, since I thought it would be a theatrical disaster but it ended up being decent cheeseball fun.

It was modeled after a morning talk show, and was filled with dumb humor and obvious jokes like "Iron Chef: Oswego", I was still able to slip in a good geek reference here and there. (Theme music was from Sports Night.)

Saw T and Prince Fan and Duder briefly as I weaved through the mass of teachers and missed them terribly, wished I saw them more than I did. At the same time finally felt comfortable in the job I have, and ended up working a long, long day, 7 to 7, finishing up at an ice cream social school kickoff thing. The kids I really trust and love and had discussed my potential plans said they were glad I didn't leave for England, and couldn't wait for school to start.

Somehow lost a fair amount of weight this summer, literally and figuratively. Started the school year with optimism and energy, first time in a while. Want to finally make some real plans and figure things out and create create create. Write and write and write and get the words down for real and leave something good behind. Want to fall in love and wear a stylish black suit and stay up too late with great people and then the next day climb a really tall mountain and spit from the top.

Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip

Mondays, NBC
Pilot Episode Review
Written by Aaron Sorkin, Directed by Thomas Schlamme

Somehow I was able to get a copy of the pilot episode for Studio 60 through Netflix and had a chance to check it out before the general premiere next month. Many of you know that I am quite the Sorkin fan (Sports Night, The West Wing) and I was eager to check out how Studio 60 fared compared to his earlier series.

He's assembled a great cast, and a setting that should provide plenty of good storytelling, although I have a feeling we'll see the occasional plotline lifted from Sports Night, as both shows deal with the behind-the-scenes goings-on of a television series dealing with network pressure.

Many people will first know this show as "Matthew Perry's New Show" since he's arguably the main star. He plays Matt Albie, a former writer of the SNL-style Studio 60 lured back after an on-camera meltdown by the executive producer (Judd Hirsch). He's joined by his longtime creative partner, director Danny Tripp (West Wingand-Sorkin-dialogue-veteran-extraordinaire Bradley Whitford.)

This is the most autobiographical aspect to the show, as it seems Sorkin is recreating the strong writer-director bond he has shared with Tommy Schlamme for a number of years. They battle both substance abuse and meddling network heads, and to me this plotline was the weakest part of the show (aside from Amanda Peet's repeated vacant stare into the camera, which apparently is to show how much of a Young and Hot Network President Genius her character is.) We all know that lots of TV is bad and that network execs never know anything, but this time 'round it's grown a little tired.

It's my hope that Sorkin doesn't use Studio 60 as a soapbox to exorcise his personal and professional demons. It usually doesn't make for compelling drama (insert any joke about The Bonfire you want to make at this point.)

Overall, a decent start, but it doesn't grab you quite like that West Wing pilot did seven years ago. To be fair, Sports Night took a few shows to find its groove, and I look forward to where Studio 60 goes once it gets going. Hopefully Sorkin eases off his usual, and now tired, targets (network execs and the Christian Right) and creates a memorable show to rest alongside his other stellar work.

Dublin Reconsidered

Hmm, where shall I start?

Not sure if I should go back through the entire trip again, just hit highlights, or just focus on pictures this time around. I have a notebook filled with writings done in pubs, cafes, and ferry boats, and I'm not sure what to do with it. Much different in style than the hurried, "reports from the front" entries that I usually post, it would be worthwhile to spend some time and really try to create some sort of permanent record of all my travels, especially since this one felt like the end, in a sense, of one kind of journey.

For now, I think, I'll talk about the final day or so spent in Dublin. Over the next several days I'll be posting pictures from the trip over at Buzznet, with plenty of detailed descriptions. That should tell the tale one way, at least.

Each time I've been in Dublin I've come away disappointed. First time, four years ago, I stayed on the north side, which got a little rough at night, and wasn't a place you wanted to wander around investigating. Last summer I stayed on the other side of the river, near St. Stephen's Green and the tourist/shopping area of Grafton Street. Liked it better, but still didn't warm to Dublin all that much. Felt big and crowded and unwelcoming, and I was always glad to leave it for the smaller cities in the south and west.

This time, though, arriving in Dublin at the end of my trip felt like coming back to a place I had finally figured out. Perhaps staying in the same hotel helped, but I think it was really due to the efforts of Donal and his fellow gang of Dublin bloggers Isobel, Elisa, and Linus. I met all of them last summer and since then they've become part of the regular blogging community that I live in.

The small-town Midwesterner in me never wants to impose, or to be a burden, and so there is a bit of anxiety that comes with meeting up with people you barely know. You don't want to get in their way, don't want to make them stay out too late, etc. etc. Donal was able to kick that shit right out of me, though, and made me feel extraordinarily welcome in his city and a few of his favorite pubs.

There really aren't any great stories or pictures that came out of the two evenings I spent bouncing around Dublin with them, but then that wasn't really the point of it all. For those few hours each night I was able to stop being a tourist taking pictures and sitting alone in pubs. For the briefest of moments, I got to just live there. After a couple of rounds of Guinness and Jameson's I could finally feel myself relax and enjoy myself, something that hadn't happened much on this trip.

Until that last night, I was wound up pretty tight. Severe vomiting at 35,000 feet, combined with the daily reminder that I AM NOT SAFE FROM THE TERRORISTS WHO HATE MY YANKEE FREEDOM!!!!!! will do that to you.

The hardest part of traveling by yourself in foreign lands is the quiet contemplation that comes from sitting on buses/trains/ferries/airplanes for several hours at a stretch. After a while too much self-examination can get overwhelming, and more often than not I wasn't pleased with what I saw in the mirror each morning. I have met the enemy, and he is me.

But enough of that selfish self-hatred that I've dwelt on too much these days. The trip ended on a much-needed high note, and I am very, very glad I chose to go. A friend of mine hoped that I would find what I needed out there. I can't say that I found anything, really, but I didn't really expect to.

I realized a few things, I guess. The distinction between what I want and what I don't want maybe became a little clearer. The right steps versus the wrong path. Things like that.

Meh. Probably not. I probably didn't figure out a damn thing and I'll just keep making the same stupid mistakes over and over again.

To Be Continued...

Coming in to Dublin Airport this morning I was reminded of the last two times I've arrive here: panicked, sweaty and desperate to catch a flight. Twice I missed my flight, mostly due to the fact that I was too far from Dublin when I got up this morning. Donal and company had a good laugh last night that I chose to be in a) Galway and b)Kilkenny the night before leaving from Dublin. To me it didn't feel that far away, but time and distance are a bit different here than they are back home.

This time I made sure to get up nice and early and make sure I had plenty of time before my flight. Especially with what's going on right now. So I got here at 8 AM for an 11:05 flight. Three hours. Plenty of time.

The flight's delayed two extra hours. So I have now arrived five hours before my flight.

Figures.

The Real and True of it All

Spent the final day in Dublin just wandering around, lost in thought and getting ready for the trip home tomorrow.

I wanted this trip to kick the shit out of me, and that's exactly what it did, in ways I never even imagined. You want to live here? Fine, then you're going to spend night after night sitting in pubs by yourself, and your days on buses with the rest of the colorful locals you wish to live among.

Had enough? Lonely for dear sweet home yet? How about I throw a major terror threat your way? Let's give you a near-panic attack in a London hotel room as the BBC and Sky news fill the screen with horrific potential what-ifs in your head and once again make the world a more dangerous, more unfriendly place for an American traveling alone abroad.

I'll give you green fields and staggering history and architecture and even a few friends to meet up with, but I'm also going to give you some devastating food poisoning on the way over. Nothing like severe vomiting to make you want your mother by your side, eh Brian?

A nice hike in the Welsh countryside? No, let's hike uphill for three or four miles, pal. Now let's ride a bike up steep roads and climb slippery rocks so you can see some goddamn ancient Celtic fort. Had enough yet?

I got my ass beat real good on this journey, but had fun doing it along the way. There's a lot to solo travel that's great, but most of the time it's hard fucking work and I'm rarely at ease with myself. It's usually afterwards that I can look back and appreciate everything, like a marathon runner who knows it's going to be brutal at times, but you do it because you have to.

Now I come home and try to sort out the elaborate fantasy world that I call my life. Pick up the pieces and try to figure out why I'm such a bastard sometimes. Why my preferred method of solving problems is to pour gasoline on them and light a match.

So long, Ireland. So long to good friends and strangers I passed on the street. See you later, London Tube. St. Paul's, I'll get inside you one of these days and see that T.E. Lawrence bust, I promise. Not for a while, though.

This trip had to be taken, I now realize. I had to once and for all get this place out of my system. Be over here enough that I run out of things to do, stop seeing the place through Pogues lyrics and Murdoch references and just see it for what it is, the real and true of it all. The rain and the bums and the dirty streets, and the wind off the bay and the creamy head of a pint. Fill it all up in my head, and keep it there.

Galway, 9:15 pm

Galway is all about familiarity, and favorite places. Dinner at Roberta's in Salthill, amazing Italian food on the Galway Bay. The Rosin Dubh for pints and conversation, although not this time. They're ripping out the place and remodeling; instead of the cozy pub bar with books lining the shelves and plenty of places for talking, it's a three-tired Late Bar now, with a brand-new beer garden and a greater emphasis on its performance space. (Arlo Guthrie plays tomorrow night, and Camera Obscura are on for Saturday night.)

Galway is one of the fastest-growing cities in Europe, so change comes to everything, and the new Dubh will be a great place, but it's still sad to see the old set-up gone. Had a nice long conversation with the Aussie barmaid with gorgeous Asian features, though. She's on a year visa in Ireland, hanging out and moving from place to place.

My face is sunburned and my remaining hair is windswept from the after-affects of riding a bike around Inis Mor today, one of the famed Aran Islands. Strolled around a prehistoric fort and wandered through several shops selling the authentic Aran sweaters. Won't tell if I bought anything or not.

Heading to Dublin tomorrow and dinner with the bloggers. Tried Glen the other night but he couldn't hear me, most likely sitting in a pub watching hurling.

And then Thursday I make the long attempt to get home. In the UK the restrictions have been lifted slightly, but I'm not sure what Dublin Airport and US Airways have in store for me. If I can bring a book on board the flight I'll be happy. Finished Bob Dylan's Chronicles as I was sailing into Rosslare harbor, but that's been replaced by the only other book Pete McCarthy wrote before he died. Saw it in a Cardiff rail station bookstore and thought it would make a good read. So I'm one of those guys whose reading a book about travel (Irish-themed, no less) while he's traveling, but it works for me because it helps me get in the mind-set of a solo traveler writing about what he sees, which I've been doing in excelsis. Might make a good book someday.

I think pictures and a more detailed version of the trip will commence once I'm home, in order for it to be done properly. There's a cover tonight at the bar so maybe I'll head somewhere else or just call it a night.

Oh, yeah, I haven't arranged for a ride home from the airport yet. This Thursday around 5:00, that is if the flight isn't delayed. Anyone willing to help me out? I'll buy you an authentic Aran sweater...

Waterford

In Waterford for the night after 12 hours of travel on train, ferry, and bus. Ireland is wonderful as always. Chepstow, C? Yeah...pretty much.

Time for a shit, a shave, a shower, as Shane sang, and then another bus to Galway. More later when I have the time, folks!

The Wye Valley Walk

Wales is noticeably calmer and quieter (and safer, hopefuly) than London, although you have to take it for what it is. This country saw its best days during the Industrial Revolution but now the word I would use to describe Wales would be "decaying."

Which is a shame, because the country is beautiful and the people seem nice enough, although with economic depression you get a lot of trashy kids sitting around with nothing to do. Chepstow isn't anything to crow about, although it reminds me a lot of Kilkenny in its layout and history of British domination.

I finally have my hunger back and have had proper meals since I arrived. After spending the day hiking the Wye Valley Walk I am famished and am just waiting to pick up some laundry before I clean up and go eat.

The walk was brutal but the most fun I've had on this trip. It took about four hours to get from Chepstow to Tintern and for at least the first half it was nearly all uphill as I wound my way up the valley onto a long ridge that followed the river north. I didn't see a single person on the trail until I was more than halfway along the route.

Tomorrow is another travel day, which is always fine with me when it involves a rail journey through scenic routes. Wish me luck that the ferry crossing goes well and that I make it to Waterford without too much delay.