I posted on my blog something about Joseph Campbell and how his work has been influential in my thinking and growing. Writing it made me curious about what my fellow porch dwellers would say about the writers, teachers, leaders, musicians, etc., who have influenced you... Who would it be if you had to select a few, what quote or lyric of theirs stands out the most to you, and what would you say about them?
I'm curious...
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Monday, November 26, 2007
Hmmmm
so i had a dream that i posted a new blog, and when i woke up i couldnt remember what it was about. So i looked at our page and nothing was there. "interesting" i thought, and reloaded the page just to make sure that something wasnt askew.
all that is to say, i didnt write anything, and i really dont have much to say anyway, which is why i was so interested in what i said this morning.
Also, the last time i wrote something sort of stirred the blogging national waters a little too much for me...
all that is to say, i didnt write anything, and i really dont have much to say anyway, which is why i was so interested in what i said this morning.
Also, the last time i wrote something sort of stirred the blogging national waters a little too much for me...
Friday, November 23, 2007
rocking chairs
Kristen and I are now the proud owners of our FOURTH rocking chair. Not in the sense of having previously owned three other rocking chairs that each are no more, but in the sense that we now have four total. It is some kind of fetish or addiction that we can't really explain, but here goes.
Our Beloved Rocking Chairs are each a unique expression of craftsmanship, and are, to one degree or another, antiques that are still standing and useful. We have our lil' guy, perfect for our two-year-old neice and nephew to sit and rock and be. We have the one that I jacked from a curb in Johnson County, that place where things imperfect or un-pretty end up on someone's curb. We have our treasure of a rocker, one that clearly found itself in the caring hands of an antique dealer who restored it to its glory. And now we have the new, slender and curving, wicker and wet-wood-bent rocker, which we welcome into our home with the excitement of a newborn (okay, that may be a bit of an overstatement).
Second, as a lover of porches, it is a logical step to be a lover of rocking chairs. Nothing makes evenings spent on a porch more enjoyable than a good strumming of the guitar to the rhythym of the rocking. It even gives rhythym to the beer drinking and conversation.
Finally, it is one more piece that helps me connect back to a generation that understood life in a slower and deeper way. In our high-speed busy busy world, a rocking chair invites us to slow down and enjoy a steady, subtle motion. Whereas most chairs are places of comfort where we enjoy simply-still complacency, good rocking chairs invite us to go one step further: do a little work, and receive the true pleasure of what sitting has to offer.
Our Beloved Rocking Chairs are each a unique expression of craftsmanship, and are, to one degree or another, antiques that are still standing and useful. We have our lil' guy, perfect for our two-year-old neice and nephew to sit and rock and be. We have the one that I jacked from a curb in Johnson County, that place where things imperfect or un-pretty end up on someone's curb. We have our treasure of a rocker, one that clearly found itself in the caring hands of an antique dealer who restored it to its glory. And now we have the new, slender and curving, wicker and wet-wood-bent rocker, which we welcome into our home with the excitement of a newborn (okay, that may be a bit of an overstatement).
Second, as a lover of porches, it is a logical step to be a lover of rocking chairs. Nothing makes evenings spent on a porch more enjoyable than a good strumming of the guitar to the rhythym of the rocking. It even gives rhythym to the beer drinking and conversation.
Finally, it is one more piece that helps me connect back to a generation that understood life in a slower and deeper way. In our high-speed busy busy world, a rocking chair invites us to slow down and enjoy a steady, subtle motion. Whereas most chairs are places of comfort where we enjoy simply-still complacency, good rocking chairs invite us to go one step further: do a little work, and receive the true pleasure of what sitting has to offer.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Blog and Bob and Vets.
So im begining to realize the difference between bloggers, and BLOGGERS!! There are people who do this thing quasi professionally. Interesting. We are not them, i sort of feel in the way.
screw em.
I want to kind of recap Andrew's b day night for a sec. Good times, O'Malley's is a wonderful place. The suprising thing about it is that grabbing my hand into the bowl of pretzles doesnt flare up my OCD. Only a magical place could make that happen.
So toward the end (as most of you know) i decided to go pick Bob Reeder's brain about music, and some of the history behind the songs he was explaining. This turned out to be quite a serious conversation including men losing limbs in Vietnam, and Bob taking care of his 92 year old stubborn Irish mother.
Andrew joined the talk and commented on Bob's bagpipe version of "Amazing Grace" and thats what started Vietnam Bob. Vietnam Bob isnt a drunken loving Irishman playing a 12 string guitar. Vietnam Bob is closer to Mr. Kurtz from Heart of Darkness. (or apocalypse now). Andrew and i left the table feeling oddly inspiried. (and yes im speaking for Andrew 100% at this time, we havent talked about it since....)
As i watched Bob play the first song after his break, i looked at him a little diferently. This man has killed and seen friends killed. This is why he is anti war right now. In his opinion, those who are pro war have never been in war, in the real part of war where friends are shot dead next to you, and enemys are ignited in Napalm only hundreds of yards from where you sit, shooting them as they burn.
Like I said, Mr. Kurtz..
So anyway, as im going home, im talking to Amanda about all of this, and its good times. We get home only to find our own little warrior, Chester Finnigan McCoy, he goes by Finn most of the time, with a swollen front leg so bad that he was not walking on it at all. After debating about it, we decided to take him to the Kitty ER. Walking in the front door, you wouldnt take them for financial sodomites....
anyway, turns out that ole' Finn, who loves to kill things that move, im sure each of you have wittnessed this at some point, got in a smaller scale war of his own, and probably won, but had some serious damage. He had puncture wounds on both of his front legs, showing that, even when wounded, he still fought. Most cats, they said, have bites on their back legs obtained while running away from the attacker. Not Finn, he was going toe to toe. Thats my boy.
oh yea, the financial sodomy...
253 bucks just to clean him up and give him some antibiotics.
screw em.
I want to kind of recap Andrew's b day night for a sec. Good times, O'Malley's is a wonderful place. The suprising thing about it is that grabbing my hand into the bowl of pretzles doesnt flare up my OCD. Only a magical place could make that happen.
So toward the end (as most of you know) i decided to go pick Bob Reeder's brain about music, and some of the history behind the songs he was explaining. This turned out to be quite a serious conversation including men losing limbs in Vietnam, and Bob taking care of his 92 year old stubborn Irish mother.
Andrew joined the talk and commented on Bob's bagpipe version of "Amazing Grace" and thats what started Vietnam Bob. Vietnam Bob isnt a drunken loving Irishman playing a 12 string guitar. Vietnam Bob is closer to Mr. Kurtz from Heart of Darkness. (or apocalypse now). Andrew and i left the table feeling oddly inspiried. (and yes im speaking for Andrew 100% at this time, we havent talked about it since....)
As i watched Bob play the first song after his break, i looked at him a little diferently. This man has killed and seen friends killed. This is why he is anti war right now. In his opinion, those who are pro war have never been in war, in the real part of war where friends are shot dead next to you, and enemys are ignited in Napalm only hundreds of yards from where you sit, shooting them as they burn.
Like I said, Mr. Kurtz..
So anyway, as im going home, im talking to Amanda about all of this, and its good times. We get home only to find our own little warrior, Chester Finnigan McCoy, he goes by Finn most of the time, with a swollen front leg so bad that he was not walking on it at all. After debating about it, we decided to take him to the Kitty ER. Walking in the front door, you wouldnt take them for financial sodomites....
anyway, turns out that ole' Finn, who loves to kill things that move, im sure each of you have wittnessed this at some point, got in a smaller scale war of his own, and probably won, but had some serious damage. He had puncture wounds on both of his front legs, showing that, even when wounded, he still fought. Most cats, they said, have bites on their back legs obtained while running away from the attacker. Not Finn, he was going toe to toe. Thats my boy.
oh yea, the financial sodomy...
253 bucks just to clean him up and give him some antibiotics.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
okay, team. I've been hesitant to write, but I think it's because I want an alias. I need more anonymity. any ideas?
I agree with Kristen (I mean K-10, bitches) that it is much more satisfying to interact with my friends in the real world (especially with beer), but it is nice to interact in this interesting cyber-sort of way.
I am currently holed up in my apartment NOT hanging out with the people that I enjoy, and let me tell you why. I went and got my hair cut tonight. I always tend to like my hair CUTS, but there has only been ONE occasion (maybe 2) that I have felt comfortable going in public after a hair appointment...my hair guy is just CREATIVE, which is great, but...
...I totally have Dolly Parton hair...gahh. I would post a picture, but I just...can't...because I DON'T HAVE A CAMERA. (ahem.)
I have tried a couple of different techniques over the past couple of years to minimize the big hair.
1: When he asks "so, what are you doing tonight?" I say "going out with a couple of friends." I think he interprets that not as "yeah, let's make her look GOOD," but as "oooh, let's make her look SNAZZY!"
2: Tonight, when he asked me what I was going afterwards, I said, "oh, you know. probably going to watch some tv. maybe some laundry." He interprets THAT as, "oooh, I can do whatever I WANT!" hence the Dolly Parton hair. I mean, whoa.
I mean no disrespect to my hair guy. I think that he is fabulous in every sense of the word. This just REALLY isn't my style...but I'll probably look more normal tomorrow.
I agree with Kristen (I mean K-10, bitches) that it is much more satisfying to interact with my friends in the real world (especially with beer), but it is nice to interact in this interesting cyber-sort of way.
I am currently holed up in my apartment NOT hanging out with the people that I enjoy, and let me tell you why. I went and got my hair cut tonight. I always tend to like my hair CUTS, but there has only been ONE occasion (maybe 2) that I have felt comfortable going in public after a hair appointment...my hair guy is just CREATIVE, which is great, but...
...I totally have Dolly Parton hair...gahh. I would post a picture, but I just...can't...because I DON'T HAVE A CAMERA. (ahem.)
I have tried a couple of different techniques over the past couple of years to minimize the big hair.
1: When he asks "so, what are you doing tonight?" I say "going out with a couple of friends." I think he interprets that not as "yeah, let's make her look GOOD," but as "oooh, let's make her look SNAZZY!"
2: Tonight, when he asked me what I was going afterwards, I said, "oh, you know. probably going to watch some tv. maybe some laundry." He interprets THAT as, "oooh, I can do whatever I WANT!" hence the Dolly Parton hair. I mean, whoa.
I mean no disrespect to my hair guy. I think that he is fabulous in every sense of the word. This just REALLY isn't my style...but I'll probably look more normal tomorrow.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
coincidence, i don't think
I never see beer bottles or boxes littered in the streets that aren't of the following brewing companies: Anheuser-Busch, Coors, Miller, and whoever the hell makes Nasty Light. Now, I don't mean any offense to our Miller-drinking friends (Brandon, Kristen--she does love that High Life Light, all of us on camping/canoeing/sweaty-ass bike-riding trips), but honestly, I'm not sure that I have ever seen a Boulevard bottle or box dumped in the street. Is there a necessary correlation between the type of beer one drinks and the value one places on the environment and the community? There has to be.
Drink good beer. Dispose of the containers properly.
Drink good beer. Dispose of the containers properly.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
30 Rock...
So in the last couple days i have watched about 15 or so episodes of 30 Rock on DVD. It's pretty amazing. i suggest it. It's been a slightly refreshing alternative to my usual sitting on my ass show, which is, of course, Seinfeld. I, really, really, enjoy writing sentences, no matter how long or short, using far too many commas, although one could argue that i tend to, on occasion, overuse this beautiful, and underrated, punctuation mark.
Wow. Sorry. I think im funny sometimes. And yes, i could have put a period in there somewhere.
I didn't go to college, thats my excuse for most things in life. Not so much in my every day life, but in conversations that get out of my control. When i'm talking to people who i know are smarter than me, i tend to throw that tasty little nugget of information out there, leaving me with the upperhand (at least in my skewed mind) for two reasons. 1) To some people, they think "wow, he had some decent ideas on life, and he has dropped the name of some decent books that he claims to have read. He is very intelligent for a non college lad." I like this person, its good for the ego. and 2) the more sympathetic approach "Ah, so this is why he mispronounced that word a second ago. I completely understand why he still tends bar on the weekends." This person, not so much good for the ego, but you have to love them anyway. I can usually tell what kind of person im talking to within about 12 seconds of my lack of higher education announcement.
After going back and reading what i just wrote, it seems that i have portrayed myself with fairly low self esteem. As most of the people who will ever read this know, that is not the case. I did want to toss out the disclaimer that i am not fishing for compliments!!!
And for some reason, the phrase "the fucking cans have to stop" just popped in my mind. The mind is a funny thing, always firing off random memories at random times. I like to think of mine as a big rolodex. Two rolodexes really, lets call them a rolodi. Thats plural for rolodex. Now that thats out of the way, i will continue.
One rolodex has random lines from great songs cycling through at full speed. Every so often, and depending on time and place, the rolodex will stop, and a line will be sitting there, ready for either singing or whistling. (for more on whistling, including what not to whistle and when not to whistle such things, read Andrew's post from the other day. Kill Whitey)
My song rolodex has been stopped for sometime on the line
"all the perfect drugs and superhero's wouldn't be enough to bring me up to zero."
Indeed Amiee Mann, indeed.
The other Rolodex is the memory one, who has a bit of an untimely manner to it, stopping at times it shouldnt, and remembering things that are best left unremembered while in certain settings.
For instance.
Colin's emergency while Amanda and i are having a discussion about jobs and money type things.
Perhaps my Rolodi are squirrly and like to play tricks, resulting in such inopportune circumstances.
Thats why i have to try to slow them with a deadly combo i like to call Rock and Roll drumming, Seinfeld, and Jameson.
Wow. Sorry. I think im funny sometimes. And yes, i could have put a period in there somewhere.
I didn't go to college, thats my excuse for most things in life. Not so much in my every day life, but in conversations that get out of my control. When i'm talking to people who i know are smarter than me, i tend to throw that tasty little nugget of information out there, leaving me with the upperhand (at least in my skewed mind) for two reasons. 1) To some people, they think "wow, he had some decent ideas on life, and he has dropped the name of some decent books that he claims to have read. He is very intelligent for a non college lad." I like this person, its good for the ego. and 2) the more sympathetic approach "Ah, so this is why he mispronounced that word a second ago. I completely understand why he still tends bar on the weekends." This person, not so much good for the ego, but you have to love them anyway. I can usually tell what kind of person im talking to within about 12 seconds of my lack of higher education announcement.
After going back and reading what i just wrote, it seems that i have portrayed myself with fairly low self esteem. As most of the people who will ever read this know, that is not the case. I did want to toss out the disclaimer that i am not fishing for compliments!!!
And for some reason, the phrase "the fucking cans have to stop" just popped in my mind. The mind is a funny thing, always firing off random memories at random times. I like to think of mine as a big rolodex. Two rolodexes really, lets call them a rolodi. Thats plural for rolodex. Now that thats out of the way, i will continue.
One rolodex has random lines from great songs cycling through at full speed. Every so often, and depending on time and place, the rolodex will stop, and a line will be sitting there, ready for either singing or whistling. (for more on whistling, including what not to whistle and when not to whistle such things, read Andrew's post from the other day. Kill Whitey)
My song rolodex has been stopped for sometime on the line
"all the perfect drugs and superhero's wouldn't be enough to bring me up to zero."
Indeed Amiee Mann, indeed.
The other Rolodex is the memory one, who has a bit of an untimely manner to it, stopping at times it shouldnt, and remembering things that are best left unremembered while in certain settings.
For instance.
Colin's emergency while Amanda and i are having a discussion about jobs and money type things.
Perhaps my Rolodi are squirrly and like to play tricks, resulting in such inopportune circumstances.
Thats why i have to try to slow them with a deadly combo i like to call Rock and Roll drumming, Seinfeld, and Jameson.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Making the "Right" choice
So...okay, I should be studying instead of taking the time to write this, but I want to know what people think.
As many of you know, I claim to live only in the real world. I'm usually difficult to reach by cell phone because I always forget to carry it with me. I rarely check my e-mail or facebook because I would much rather get together with friends and enjoy each moment of life.
Recently, a lot of that has changed because I started law school.
It's going to be a beautiful day out today, as it was yesterday. I love being outside...I love the crisp fall air, the shining sun, the leaves...but instead of getting to enjoy the things I love about this time of year, I'm going to be holed up in a library or in an office or somewhere at least within a power cord distance from electricity because I need to be studying every waking minute between now and my exams. My laptop has become an extension of my brain.
The more I think about it...the more rebellious I get. I mean, it's not just a "push through and you'll be done with it soon" type of thing. If I'm seriously going to pursue this career, this is what I'll be doing for the REST OF MY LIFE.
Goodbye life in the real world...hello internets. Westlaw and LexisNexis have become my new best friends because they tell me everything I could possibly need to know and because I have access to them, others will have an unreasonable expectation that I will know things that I have no clue about, nor any reason to really care about.
The fact that we are sharing a blog is even playing into my existential crisis right now. Why are we, a group of real-life friends who see each other fairly often, drawn to connect with each other through the web? Understandably, writing is distinguished in value from speaking and face to face interaction, but I'd much rather have a beer and hang out.
Anyway, all of that to say, I'm still not totally sure this is the direction I want my life to take. Law school, living in cyber-world, further disconnecting myself from nautre and the real world. Can you guys seriously see me being an attorney? Maybe there's something more important for me to accomplish.
As many of you know, I claim to live only in the real world. I'm usually difficult to reach by cell phone because I always forget to carry it with me. I rarely check my e-mail or facebook because I would much rather get together with friends and enjoy each moment of life.
Recently, a lot of that has changed because I started law school.
It's going to be a beautiful day out today, as it was yesterday. I love being outside...I love the crisp fall air, the shining sun, the leaves...but instead of getting to enjoy the things I love about this time of year, I'm going to be holed up in a library or in an office or somewhere at least within a power cord distance from electricity because I need to be studying every waking minute between now and my exams. My laptop has become an extension of my brain.
The more I think about it...the more rebellious I get. I mean, it's not just a "push through and you'll be done with it soon" type of thing. If I'm seriously going to pursue this career, this is what I'll be doing for the REST OF MY LIFE.
Goodbye life in the real world...hello internets. Westlaw and LexisNexis have become my new best friends because they tell me everything I could possibly need to know and because I have access to them, others will have an unreasonable expectation that I will know things that I have no clue about, nor any reason to really care about.
The fact that we are sharing a blog is even playing into my existential crisis right now. Why are we, a group of real-life friends who see each other fairly often, drawn to connect with each other through the web? Understandably, writing is distinguished in value from speaking and face to face interaction, but I'd much rather have a beer and hang out.
Anyway, all of that to say, I'm still not totally sure this is the direction I want my life to take. Law school, living in cyber-world, further disconnecting myself from nautre and the real world. Can you guys seriously see me being an attorney? Maybe there's something more important for me to accomplish.
I had intended to come back to this and add more later...but I'm just going to put it out there as is. Sans improvements as my campaign manager would say.
Thoughts?
Thursday, November 8, 2007
how about an embarrassing moment to get the ball rolling?
I went into the Blue Parkway Sun Fresh this morning on my way to work. I've gone to this particular grocery store several times before--because it is on my way to work, and they have great prices, especially for a Sun Fresh--and so I have become accustomed to being practically the only white guy in the place.
Now, I am a Walking Whistler by nature. If I have a song in my head, or I recognize the song playing in the store, I am prone to whistle along. This morning, a familiar tune came on over the Sun Fresh stereo, a fun 70's disco song I have danced to many times... and so, I began to whistle along.
It wasn't until I had whistled my way to the chorus that I realized that I was happily whistling along to "Play That Funky Music White Boy."
Whatever the mouth- and throat-muscles are that allow me to whistle, they suddenly clenched and cramped. My face turned the color of the raspberry vinaigrette I was carrying, and I immediately made a bee-line for the register and out the door.
I hope to God no one noticed.
Now, I am a Walking Whistler by nature. If I have a song in my head, or I recognize the song playing in the store, I am prone to whistle along. This morning, a familiar tune came on over the Sun Fresh stereo, a fun 70's disco song I have danced to many times... and so, I began to whistle along.
It wasn't until I had whistled my way to the chorus that I realized that I was happily whistling along to "Play That Funky Music White Boy."
Whatever the mouth- and throat-muscles are that allow me to whistle, they suddenly clenched and cramped. My face turned the color of the raspberry vinaigrette I was carrying, and I immediately made a bee-line for the register and out the door.
I hope to God no one noticed.
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