The 2007 Hal 8-Ball Invitational

It was another one of those weekends where I pack the bag and head off to other parts of Illinois. This weekend it was the state capital, Springfield, to visit the Drone 1047, who shall be referred to as Hal in this post, because otherwise it sounds like I was visiting an escaped cyborg slave from the distant future.

The long drives are good for catching up on different things stored on my iPod, so I listened to some of this and to an episode of this. Learned a lot about the tattoos and guilds of actuaries and once again wound up stopping at the same exact McDonalds near Bloomington for a piss break. And some fries. And coffee, because John Hodgman's voice was a bit too soothing for a long car drive.


Hal and his wife just had a baby and so I got to see the little guy for the first time, and he's a good looking kid, but all he does is cries and poops and sleeps right now. I'm looking forward to a few years from now when he asks to play with Hal's extensive action figure collection, and Hal has to think about what his answer will be.

In addition to the normal visiting and catching up, Hal had himself a birthday party and pool tournament, populated by a couple dozen or so work friends and spouses of said work friends. You never know what you're going to get when you hear "work friends," much less "work friends who work for politicians and who may secretly wish to become politicians themselves one day." One imagines well-coiffed, smiley individuals with Brock Sampson-like handshakes, all speaking some hidden language about redistricting and reapportioning.

Thankfully that wasn't the case. Hal's friends are all extremely likable people, and I could tell there was a lot of love and respect for the guy, which was great, because Hal is the most admirable of all hobbits. I felt right at home with them and, in spite of me being the outsider amongst the group, I felt welcomed and part of the group.

We also played pool in the basement. Made it past the first round, after beating a bearded guy in a Whalers jersey, and found myself facing my BFF himself the second round. Came close to winning, but Hal ended up going on to face a spitfire of a player named Kate in the final round.

He would have won it, too, had he not scratched on the Eight ball. Poor bastard.


There were cash prizes and medals which everyone wore proudly. There was also a medal ceremony. Somehow Hal Jr. slept through most of it and as the party wound down to the last few people, we crashed on the couch and watched a bit of the glorious season 8 of The Simpsons.

It's the one with the burlesque house.

On Music

A few years ago the band Wilco used to do a show the night before Thanksgiving. They'd tour here and there but would always play to the hometown crowd as they returned home for the start of the holidays.

In my hometown, as I'm sure it is done all across the country, people gather at the local bowling alley and catch up with each other and get really plastered.

Both of these anecdotes have a point, so stay with me.

At one particular Wilco pre-Thanksgiving show at The Riviera I was stuck towards the back of the crowd, near the bar. No one seemed to be paying much attention to the show and were instead chatting away, no doubt catching up with old friends now returned to Chicago for the giving of thanks the next day.

Obviously it really pissed me off. This was a really good band, my favorite at the time (probably still), and people were acting like they were at the fucking bowling alley.

My point is this: I hated those people as much as I claimed to hate the college hippies who spend their summers getting toasted at various outdoor music festivals.

It's not like the cool people hang in the city clubs and the losers go to outdoor festivals. There are plenty of both at both.

I say this not because of any negative reaction to my previous post about Coachella (there wasn't any that I know of), but because I was very unsatisfied with what I wrote last week. It was a rushed, cranky essay that was more about me relieving some job-related stress and less about a legitimate critique of a music concert.

After I wrote it and hit publish, it nagged at me and it wouldn't go away, especially after I turned out a much finer piece of writing about my late-night b-boy visitor. That felt good; the other entry just felt like amateurish writing, an immature rant, a reminder of my early writings on here where a complaint about a bad commercial felt worthy of a post. Plus it probably did piss off a few people who perhaps liked being a college hippie who attends/attended large outdoor festivals.

But it brings up a larger problem I have come across: the near-impossibility of writing about music, or offering up any general criticism of it, positive or negative.

I've been wanting to write up a quick something about how good The Shins were on Saturday Night Live a few weeks ago, and was searching for some video, and along the way read various comments and reactions to the performance.

Pick a few of the following phrases and splice them together any way you want and you'll come up with a general idea of what fan reaction was, and what amounts to any typical internet discussion about indie/alternative music:

indie fanboys sellout awesome nervous corporate Sub Pop rule sucked balls heart Garden State overrated beautiful I was into The Shins way before that! pussies newalbumkicksassthey'renotasgoodastheholdsteady.

It's the same with movies or books or tv shows and any other mention of pop culture on a message board or comments section. We're all part of the discussion and we all have our opinions and people get so passionate about their loves and hates and it all starts sounding the same after a while.

There's the "first" guy, the girl who absolutely loved it, the snarky guy who just quotes Family Guy episodes, and the person who thinks it was pretty bad and is a clear sign that there is no hope left for American culture.

So are all opinions equal, all viewpoints the same? Should we just not take a critical eye at anything and instead say "I love it all!!!" Somehow that doesn't seem right to me, but the past few days I've been really preoccupied with the idea of opinions and criticism and how it all goes down on this worldwide internet community we've all created.

There is good shit, and there is shit. And there is some good shit that other people think is shit, and vice versa. And rarely is there a thing any more that many, many people consider to be awesome and wonderful. Instead you have little pockets of taste that are constantly at war with each other, each hoping that their version of what's cool will get to the top of the pop culture pyramid.


So, to sum up: outdoor festivals still suck, but if you like 'em, by all means enjoy yourself.

And The Shins were really good on Saturday Night Live.

You Are Not at Your Home

Okay, so....

Something really fucked up just happened.

I had all these plans to just head home and do some laundry and watch some movies and be a tired old guy. But instead I stayed late at work, gave blood (Mr. Super Hero Me!!!!) and then grabbed some dinner with Principal Best Friend. And his kids.

Then The Duder called and there was a gathering at the house and it involved wine and cheese and discussions of golf and so I must attend.

Had a LOT of wine and lots of good conversation and all that grown-up shit and then I decided to head home and around halfway there my thigh started vibrating and it was Roomie. (Hey Roomie! (See Arrested Development and other jokey variations on that joke for explanation.))

Roomie's car wouldn't start outside the grocery store complex, and thankfully I was close by for a swooping rescue. Arrived home, normalcy on a Friday, Cori walks in and says the following:

(Dramatic pause.)

"There's a guy at the door."

"Huh?"

"There's a guy at the door. I think he's drunk, but there's a guy at the door."

"What?"

(Dramatic re-enactment provided by the Limelight Adult Players. And a kitchen knife.)

Suddenly we shift positions and I realize that yes, there is a guy at my back door. Through the open vertical blinds we see a young man in a red baseball cap, swaying back and forth on my porch slab. He is obviously very, very drunk.

This is when I become bad-ass.

(This is true, by the way. Cori can vouch for me.)

I stride to the door, open the blinds a bit to meet my adversary (who, Cori reminds me, is a 19-year old drunk kid who can't see straight), and I throw my bad self into the ring.

"Do you know where you are? You are not at your home!!!!"

He swayed and mumbled and didn't give much of an answer. I tried variations on the theme, until I realized that there would be no compromise with this individual.

Determinedly, I finally yelled "GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE I'M CALLING THE GODDAMN COPS!!!!!"

He eventually slouched off towards less enterprising nocturnal ventures and I proceeded to mark my property with my own urine. I had to do the same thing last summer when a goddamn skunk started horning in on my affairs.

It's now late into the evening and all is safe. I have the cauldrons of hot oil ready and the trusty 2x4 in place lest a miscreant or a ne'er-do-well try and break the defenses of Castle Drunkenstein.

American History

Wired has a story on the new documentary In the Shadow of the Moon, a documentary about the Apollo manned missions to the moon, which is becoming a big hit at Sundance.

It never ceases to amaze me how little people know about the U.S. space program. At my school we're getting set up to speak directly to the International Space Station, so for the next few weeks I'm going to visit different classrooms and talk a little about the space program and some of its notable achievements.



It's one of those things that Shouldn't Be Forgotten, like D-Day or the Declaration of Independence. One of the things that makes you proud of your country.

Speaking of D-Day, I heard the other day that Ken Burns is doing a documentary on World War II titled, simply, The War. It's not coming out until September 2007 but I'm already getting excited. Because I'm a white liberal guy who likes PBS documentaries about American history.

Reminder

Just in case anyone needed reminding...

Astral Weeks is the best album ever.





This post brought to you by The Committee to Remind People that Van Morrison is The God Who Walks Among Us.

War Stories

I've tried to write about the President, and Iraq, over the past several months, and yesterday I even tried putting together a few words about the (then) upcoming State of the Union address, but instead I just ranted about outdoor music festivals.

I'm not trying to be superficial and aloof to what's going on in the world, I just don't know what the hell to say about it any more. Every day the news pops up on my screen and it's more explosions, more dead, more chaos.

According to a search on my blog entries I only wrote about Iraq once last year. War entries tend to get peoples' blood boiling, and for a while I thought I'd try and focus on more positive matters.

The war is still with us, though; I just don't have any more words. It's all just anger and disbelief and frustration. Had a Boundary Committee meeting last night so I missed the address, which I would have watched had I been home. It's still The State of the Union address to the Congress, and that should be respected no matter who's in charge.

Instead I caught the postgame, where Senators Obama and Edwards and Clinton made the rounds and tried to nudge their way to the front of the line and again I don't really know what to say. Edwards and Clinton try to distance themselves from their yes votes and Obama just sits back there and has a smoke and says, "Hey, I was against this damn thing from the beginning."

Lucky him, though; he didn't have to be a sitting senator in 2003 when everyone else sweated and kowtowed themselves into yes votes so they wouldn't seem weak and unwilling to go against a then-popular president.

There's gonna be some serious shit going down soon and I'll be watching closely to see what our new presidential contenders do. This is 4th and inches for our elected leaders and they need to make some hard decisions and not fuck around for once.

Please find a way to solve this horrible mess before more people have to die.

Just Like Coachella

Nick posted the lineup for the 2007 Coachella festival and I noticed that practically every goddamn band that has broken up in the past ten years is now reuniting in order to play the super-hyped up desert show this April.

Rage Against the Machine is getting all of the media attention, but it's significant to point out that the Happy Mondays, Crowded House, and (most importantly) the Jesus and Mary Chain are also re-forming and have slots at the two-day festival.

The Chili Peppers are playing, surprise, but they should have broken up a long time ago.

I don't like the Chili Peppers.

Photo courtesy of leelee025's Buzznet page.

Coachella is cool, I guess, although this habit of having a big '80s or '90s alternative act reunite to play to a bunch of 20-year olds is already getting kind of tired.

Maybe I only say this because I won't be attending the festival, which features a lot of really kick-ass bands, but I'll be honest: I fucking hate massive outdoor music festivals. Fuck the crowds, fuck the heat, fuck the overpriced beer and fuck the crappy sound and visuals.

And fuck the smelly college hippies that always seem to infest those damn things.

Don't mind the snark: I'm teasing, of course. I hate the festivals, not the people who go to them. Even the hippies. Everyone loves college hippies. Or not.

Now, lest I offend, if you're a college hippie and a big fan of outdoor music festivals and think that I'm talking about you, well, of course I'm not. I'm talking about those other people that really annoyed the piss out of you when you were at Pitchfork or Lollapalooza last summer. Those guys. You're alright by me. You're reading this, aren't you? That makes you cool in my book. Even if you are a hippie.

Anyway, give me a small club in the city like the Metro or the Riviera, were I saw the Jesus and Mary Chain play 17 years ago for my first concert. I was a small-town white-bread kid who barely knew what decent music was and I had never seen so many black leather jackets in all my life, but it was an eye-opening experience and I've never grown tired of it since.

We're Not Doin' It 'Cause We're Greedy

Comment this morning from a 24-year old Michigan girl who works in my building:

"What's this 'shuffle' thing?"

"Huh?"

"The shuffle. Some Bears thing from '85. What is it?"

I just looked at her. And then started singing: "Well they call me Sweetness, 'cause I like to dance..."

I think I shall sing it to her all day. Because I still know almost every damn word of that stupid song.

Dolmades with Duder

2 AM and I need to get to bed but I haven't written down words or a story in forever and all of a sudden I feel the lines coming out of my fingertips and onto the keyboard.

I should be drunk but I'm not; the buzz faded a while ago after I stopped ordering the pints and let myself sober up a bit for the quick drive home. Hung out at my favorite pub with Eric and Jessica and a huge mass of their friends in the back room where cigars are smoked by a fake fire.

Lots of people and conversation and talk of music and comic books and travel and photography. And this post is just another sum-up of an ordinary night out with friends but it's also about how life is pretty damn good and how there's nothing better than being with a group of people and having a good time.

I could go on and on about people and gatherings and friendship. The Duders and T over last Sunday for the Bears game and dolmades and homemade pasta carbonara by yours truly. (Tomorrow I'll be less fancy-pants and just make chili for the game against the Saints.)

I could go on and on about having a roommate for the first time in years and how weird it could have been but really how great it is that there's life and movement in this house again after too many dark and silent nights alone.

There's probably a post or two I could write about what it's like to have one of your good friends also be your boss, and how that's both weird and awesome, but what I just said is pretty much all that needs to be said.

Right now, it's just all about the people and the connections you make with them and how that's what keeps us all going through life. The people, and what you do with them. Took advantage of that situation for far too long, let too many people down, forgot what it meant to have earned a person's friendship in the first place.

I bring that up a lot, I know, the bad decisions and the aftermath and all that. Sometimes I look back to a few years ago and wonder who the hell was steering, but it is what it is, and you learn and move on and you try your best to not do the same shit again.

Obama for America

Obama 2008

For President.

Awesome.

UPDATED

I know it still isn't official that he's running for president, but it's pretty obvious that the only thing the guy still needs to do is to stand in front of a podium in Hyde Park and say the words.

I have to admit that I'm very excited about this, even though I may come across as overly gushy about it, like all those iPhone posts everyone did last week. I've become pretty cynical about American politics, but an Obama run for the White House brings out a strong sense of optimism in me, thoughts that we might not be done yet as a country, that better times are ahead.

Brings out a nice sense of hometown pride as well, since Obama's a fellow Illinoisan. Was born and raised in Hawaii, but has spent a good chunk of the last 20 years living here I believe, so that counts.

Wonder what type of rigor he'll have to go through, what kind of scrutiny and racial anger he'll face as he rides the highways across the country, getting shit for having Hussein as his middle name. Today at lunch someone already made an "Osama--oh, I mean Obama" crack and rolled their eyes. Not everyone digs him around here apparently.

Maybe I'll quit my job and go be his campaign manager or something. I'm sure he needs one. And I watched a lot of The West Wing, so I know all about that stuff.

Good Irish Weather

David Beckham is headed to the U.S. to play for the Los Angeles Galaxy. I had some good thoughts on this, but Chris Cope got to them first, so go read what he has to say. No need to say the same thing twice.

My only new thought is this: we're in the middle of the American football playoffs right now, so most people will greet this news with a huge shrug, but I am at least interested to see what effect Beckham has on the popularity of MLS.

Cope is an American journalist who decided to move to Wales last year. Considering that I tried to do something similar last year, I tip my hat to him for actually making it. Of course, reading about the severe depression that he spiralled into upon arrival, I sometimes think it might have been a good thing that I stayed in the States.

I still get itchy, though. Winter around here has been mild, and it's currently 47 degrees as I start my Friday at work. It's that cool, slightly damp weather that I strangely enjoy, and always reminds me of that Irish/UK/North Atlantic weather. Gets me wanting to go for a long walk through moors or old forests or smell the sea air in Salthill.

The Neil Gaiman Trifecta

For all you Coraline fans out there, Neil has some pictures from his visit to the film set last month.

Really looking forward to this, but I'm still having a hard time with the whole Dakota Fanning-as-the-voice-of-Coraline thing. I know she's a "great" actress and all, but most of the time I wish she would just go away. I believe this all started when Tom Cruise started carrying her around all the time in his arms.

Also bought my niece The Wolves in the Walls, to once again make her parents ask "What the hell is this weird shit?" when she opens her gift.

And to complete the Gaiman trifecta, I'm about to head to bed and open up Fragile Things for the first time. And The Absolute Sandman Volume One is waiting patiently for a long afternoon where I can just soak it all in.

Shit, I might as well link the Stardust and Beowulf sites as well, since 2007 will be the year of Neil Gaiman.

Good shit, that Neil.

Lightroom

About six months ago someone stole my camera at a Limelight performance, but I didn't really miss it all that much, since the damn thing didn't take very good pictures anyway. New one's a bit better, but what really helps is Lightroom, which is my most favoritest thing ever right now. They're out of beta the end of next month, so I'm a little worried I'll have to cough up some dough to keep it.

Went back and took a fresh look at some old photos and cleaned them up a bit. I've got Ireland and travel on my mind these days so I give you a few from the past few years of traveling:*

The Moirae, St. Stephen's Green, Dublin

Out of Dublin, on my way to Cork

Galway Surfers, late March

A Tree.

(This is where Lightroom really comes in handy. The original was just okay, but once you change it to black and white and adjust the contrast a bit it really stands out.)

More can be found on my Ireland Revisited Flickr page. Which is now a pro account. And once again, Bella is awesome.

*I've never been much of a photographer; most of mine are usually clumsy shots where I just try and get the basics captured. Lately I've come up with a few good ones, though, and I can't get enough of black and white. Still, mine are nothing compared to what's out there.

I Like Things That Are Great

Had my first 21st Century Dinner Party tonight, over at the Nevills', where the beer is always cold and the conversation is so good my throat is sore right now.

Phil played stuff from his iPod on something only slightly larger than a beer coaster, then I brought mine out and suggested some good music to him and so he got out the laptop and bought the albums right then and there at the dining room table as we finished our dessert.

Because that store is open 24 hours.

Conversation drifted here and there and suddenly I was trying to describe Alec Baldwin's killer Tony Bennett impersonation and then we just called up YouTube and there it was and we all gathered around the glow of the laptop and laughed our asses off.

Somewhere during the night we bought tickets for Camera Obscura and Joanna made Creme Brulee and Elliot fell ill and Di the expat was missed but everything else was just perfect, like it always is whenever I'm over there. Just great great great great people.

And as I was walked out the door, telling a story about mentoring a guy and teaching him how to conduct yourself in the working world I came up with the phrase "that's not how you get the milk to market."

Now I'm ripping some Aluminum Group albums that I only ever had on cassette, given to me back in the late days of the 20th Century from my buddy Randy, and it's so good to hear "Rrose Selavy's Valise" again.

When the Levees Broke

The finest storytelling I saw captured on film this year was When the Levees Broke, the Spike Lee documentary about Katrina and New Orleans. Nothing moved me more, angered me more, or told a better tale cinematically. The raw footage of the devastation, the frank interviews, and that haunting funeral procession at the end, mourning and acknowledging that a great city had in a real sense, died.

No one is doing a better job than Spike when it comes to showing us what living in 21st century America is like. First the post-9/11 aftershocks in The 25th Hour, where Ground Zero became an unexpected character in the film. Now Levees drives home the same point that Bill Maher made so well not long ago: that the American government doesn't know how to get anything done anymore.

A clip from Real Time, October 27, 2006:

Here's a link to the text version, in case you couldn't get the video to work.

It's a new year, and a new Congress takes over as of today. The candidates for the 2008 presidential election are increasing every week. Perhaps some of the horrible blunders and misdeeds of the past five years can be corrected and 2007 can be the start of a new direction for the U.S. Maybe we can start being a country that gets things done again.

I want to believe that. I really do.

One Laptop Per Child

Bicyclemark just had a podcast about the OLPC Project (One Laptop Per Child) and it got me thinking about something...

Just over a year ago I served on the Strategic Planning Committee for my district. We had to do some of the usual SPC business like write goals and and a mission statement, which kind of blows, but there were other parts to it that were more interesting.

Our moderator was a pretty smart guy, and he would encourage and push us to really dig deep with our thoughts and beliefs, and really stretched our abilities. There was this one moment where we were talking about technology and education and "the future" and I got up to make a short summary of what my group had been working on for the past couple of hours.

After rattling off a few chestnuts about laptops and kids and the internet I started going a bit deeper about classroom structure and self-directed learning and video-conferencing and a whole bunch of stuff that I don't even really remember. At the time, though, it made a lot of sense and I was getting really excited about what I was talking about. Bosses were all impressed too.

Ideas about what learning should be and how we're so stuck in this formulaic way of instruction and then more about laptops and the internet and blah blah blah blah. It sounded better when I was speaking in front of an audience.

Hmm. I hadn't thought about that in a while.

I head back to work tomorrow. New year, but it'll mostly be the same old stuff I do every day. Pass out challenging math problems. Lead small group discussion on a book. Try not to fall asleep.

Hmm.

(Photo courtesy of Mark's Flickr page, which always has lots of good stuff.)

Christmastime, Continued