And just when it seems...

things are all crappy, you get a nice note from someone.

The little transcription I did apparently pleased the composer based on an email he just sent me. It's really nice when someone who knows what they're doing tells you that you might too.

I have got to remember to tell people when they do things right. This guy just salvaged my night and maybe the next month.

Guys, I'm sorry, but I'm not feeling like a million bucks. I hope things don't get dark here, but I would say that's a good possibility. I apologize in advance for being overly sensitive. I'm such a wus.

I keep coming back to this quote: "Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened." It's meaning an awful lot to me these days.

If you haven't already seen Russ's blog, he gives a pretty good account of the weekend. It was great fun to see both of them, and the dinner from last night with the S's and the Smiths was much like old times. I've been blessed and spoiled in this town.

The Lady Dawgs couldn't put it together today, but they will still receive the first round bye in the conference tournament. This is the time of year when I'm gone with our basketball teams to conference (and for the ladies) national tournaments, and I will do my absolute best to give you an update in each and every city.

Here's hoping that we can avoid Des Moines or Missoula.

Clarification

It appears that Dad will not be spending the night in the hospital. For those of you who've written to check and see how he is, thank you. I just don't know much, and one person's dramatic account of the situation is balanced by another's flippant approach to it. I know he got dizzy at the shop today and checked himself in. His dr. suspected a heart attack, ruled that out, suspected a loose clot in his leg, ruled that out, and now we're just waiting on the results of some tests. Never one to be held back by something so trivial as a medical condition, he can now be found back at the shop working.

Don't Speak

I began writing an entry in response to two deaths of which I became aware today, and the fact that my Dad is in the hospital. I was going to rant again about how short life is and la na na na na, when I realized that I had spent ten minutes of my short life talking about how short life is.

I have learned in the last six months that there is no better way for me to kill an enjoyable situation than to talk about it. No details are necessary, but I completely saw myself in Ron Burgundy at the end of Anchorman as he and the News Team were walking through the park. They were legitimately enjoying the time they were spending until Ron killed the buzz by... talking about how much he enjoyed "laughing, enjoying each other's company."

I suppose it's different to talk about a situation after it has happened. Example: Mike Knight and I can laugh about sprinting from the criterium to our car in the North Deck at 10:50 on a Saturday night trying to beat "a deadline." If one of us had said, "Wow, we're really making memories here as we cross Broad," I think we would have felt dirty recalling the situation with any degree of fondness.

I'm not sure it's true for everyone. I have wonderful friends who might say "It's nice to see you again" or "I love being around you" at exactly the right moment and completely fulfill my need for praise for months with a two-second blurting of the truth.

I can't.

So, please know that life is short, there isn't enough time to worry, you've got to spend money to make money, you've got to believe in yourself, your education is what you make of it, there's more to life than everyone else's opinion, music is really cool, our differences are what make us worth existing, be nice to everyone, stop and smell the roses, America rocks, and that if I spend time with you that I enjoy it way more than I would ever be able to say without completely killing the buzz and trivializing the pure joy I get from the fact that you would take a few minutes of your all-too-short life to spend with me.

Welcome old friend Sarah-not-my-next-door-neighbor-but-nevertheless-quite-worthy-of-
love-adoration-and-free-speech O. to the blogsphere.

Thanks to Tony for the recognition today. I promise to list everyone on a list to the right soon (ie. - when my employment status has changed). In the mean time, please check out Tony and everyone else who is kind enough to read and respond.

Never, ever, eat meatloaf that comes from a box. For a better meal, eat the box (spray with butter, 375 on center rack for 22-13 min, allow cooling time).

My friend at athletics gave me a going-away present last night... a basketball inscribed with a note from and the signatures of our men's and women's head basketball coaches. It's tremendously cool, and I can't wait to post a picture (which means it will be 6-8 weeks).

Russ and Ellen will be joining us in Athens for the weekend for no good reason other than simply hanging out (which I think is pretty cool).

The countdown to my departure from Athens is underway, and currently sits at somewhere around 157 days.

I am beginning to think that I may take a regular old retail job in Nashvegas, rather than messing around with a teaching gig. I'm doing the math now, but I am open to suggestions other than the following:

1. Prostitution (although if you tell me I would make a good one, you might make me feel good, as long as it's the right kind... more of a Fred Garvin, and less of a RuPaul, model)
2. Pharmaceutical Sales
3. Mobile Communications Retail
4. Band Secretary
5. Custodial
6. CEO (though I will listen to the right offer)
7. Anything which contains the word "clean"

I am devoid of any other ideas today, which I suppose bodes well for my future in songwriting.

The glove

Here is my nephew with his Daddy and his new glove. Sorry for the funky pic. Looks like he's enjoying it.

No violation

Good news. I am as yet unviolated. Please do not interpret that as an invitation or a challenge.

Doctor's offices remind me of how short life is, with all the hokey Dr. Phil language normally associated with that sentiment. Feels like a automotive repair shop, like you're going in for your 50,000 mile checkup. Hopefully your doctor doesn't try to sell you the virtual equivalent of an unneeded air filter when you visit. You know your time is ticking down and they just want to see what they can do to keep the wheels on the road as long as possible. Wow, anyone wanna watch "When A Man Loves a Woman" or "Terms of Endearment" with me?

Athletics has added new banners to the side of the light poles surrounding the coliseum. They depict action shots of the various sports that play in the Stegosaurus. I am hoping to live in a neighborhood that allows me to do this based on the events of my life at a given time. If I'm in a frustrated writing mood, said banners will depict me, head in one hand, mechanical pencil in the other. If I'm being lazy, I will be seen laying on a couch with the remote control in my hand, looking around a can of Pringles to see the tube. If I'm in one of my four-times-yearly cleaning modes, you'll see me with all of my clothes on the recliner, folding a t-shirt, with a big Martha Stewart grin on my face.

I convinced Trina that I had an extra kidney, but in fact, I do not.

Guess who's coming to blogger

The knower of physics and things about Europe now has a blog.

Now, I'm off to freak out about a concert that hasn't happened yet.

The word "Hail" sounds a lot like the word "hell." Isn't that funny? Suprised no one's ever written a joke or cheesy pun using that. Hmm. Weird.

I was out getting dinner with a dear friend tonight and got caught in the hail storm. We saw a transformer (the real thing, not the toy) explode behind Publix. Pretty colors, pissed off customers. It always amazes me to see a part of a city completely dark.

As I was heading back, trying to avoid traffic lights, i decided to pull to beside a building to avoid the hail for a few minutes. Then I thought about how bad my paint job already looks, and realized that this was one of the few times that this was an advantage. While the rest of Athens-Clarke County ran for cover, I could proceed with reckless (hopefully, get it, it's a homonym) abandon and not be concerned with further damaging my clearcoat. Might be time for an income.

Good weekend! Good friends, good times, and Georgia men won! Woo hoo.

On Friday, I had coffee downtown with a good friend. A very friendly gentleman was introducing himself to every person on the good end of a dog leash. He would then engage them in conversation about their pup, and was just terribly enthusiastic about them... much like Molly Shannon on Dog Show. I hope you remember, "I... uuuhlike ....nnnnDAWGS!" One person he stopped committed an infraction of Rule 6.7A. She referred to the way that her dog "interacted" with other dogs. I just don't understand this interaction thing.

Good dinner with buds Tim, Trey, and Rus([s]el)(ty)... Dave was a latecomer, works for a living. We counted things. We were joined by Jen for a few at the 'kstone, and there was loud music and philosophy. Linds joined us as the Funkles played a kicking show. Gunner danced like a twenty year-old... may have pulled his flemenon (ouch!). Then home.

Sunday was bball. This game is what I will deem the Futility Classic. With 8:45 remaining in the 1st half, the Dawgs led... 9-4 over the Plainsmen. Wouch. It got better, and we won, which gets the boys a gold star. Saaalute.

Today has been writing and working. Nice change.

The docket this week includes a concert which will hopefully come together Tuesday and a "routine" physical at the doctor. Just so you know there is nothing "routine" about a physical after 30, so if I look violated Wednesday afternoon, it's probably because I will have been. Joy of joys.

May you never be ashamed of who you are.
May you never wish you were anywhere other than where or when you are.
May others call your flaws "quirks" and your failures "things you need to work on."
May your worst days be remembered as such and not as the norm.
May you value clarity of thought, but never at the expense of the joy of not knowing.
May you be strong enough to act when you determine something must change, and may those you loved continue as though nothing ever did.

Act I

If I ever direct a movie, instead of "Action," I'm going to say "Get ready, get set, GO!

(Scene: Intramural Field #1, August many years ago. A major university marching band is on the field learning a halftime show. Ominous clouds have begun sweeping in from the west. Lightning is striking, and the two directors on the tower are counting the seconds from the bolt to the boom. The natives are getting restless as many of them are holding 50-pound lightning rods)

Brett: Folks, rest assured that when the lightning is five miles away we will send you to your cars. So until then, let's try to get the rest of this closer on.

(The brass players laugh, the woodwind players bitch. A cell phone rings. The non-Brett director answers the phone, as the contractor who is building the addition to his house has been needing to get in touch with him)

Doubletree: Hello... hey Mr. Contractor, I'm glad you called.

Brett: Ok, guys, let's take a look at page 6. Face the dot and take 16 equal size steps to get there. Kick it off.

Doubletree: Shingles? You need to order more?

Brett: Easy! Easy! Kit, you're closing the interval... smaller steps!!!

Doubletree: Well, how much is that going to cost me?

(A sky-wide flash of lightning interrupts the run. Band members can be heard counting seconds: "One, two, three" at qtr note = 88.)

Brett: Those aren't seconds. Count slower.

Brett (whispering to the other director): Seriously, that lightning is getting awfully close. We need to send them in.

Doubletree (turning away from Brett and the band so he can hear his cell phone more easily): Well, don't buy them at Home Depot, we're already over budget!

Brett (to band): Alright, set the dot.

(Another flash of lightning, followed by thunder less than a second later. Woodwinds scream, brass players get pissed.)

Brett (to other director): Dude, we need to send them in... this is flat-out dangerous!

Doubletree (to Brett): Excuse me, can't you see I'm ON THE PHONE!!!?

And CUT!

I was driving home from the 'kwood today, trying to reach Cooper. Instead, Chuck (at the idiot) picked up. He said I should come down tonight to meet Texas Country Sensation Pat Gr*en. He was very cool.

Here's a tip for you aspiring songwriters, though. When the star asks if you are going to his show that night, don't make any excuses. Just say yes. They'll never know the difference.

Remove foot from mo... wait.

Remove head from ass. Then remove foot from mouth.

That's better.

This is so dum

First off, I'm sure some of you have figured out that the word "business" at some point in history meant "the act of being busy." I still think that's cool. Dunno why.

I had a day full of business today. The weirdest thing happened in the office (sorry for those of you who read my away message to this effect).

Trina (AKA "Trey") is our new secretary (def: "One who secretes"). Trina handles that office like a well-handled office. She answers the phone promptly, courteously, with a low voice and an unidentifiable accent.

You must know the following for this story to make sense. Most university phone numbers have the prefix "542." In order to dial within the university, one must dial (or "mash" as my first high school band director would say) the number "2" followed by the four digit suffix. In order to dial the band room, one inside the university would dial "2-1505."

Trina fielded several phone calls from a fax machine. We determined by the ring that the call was from within the university. After several frustrating attempts to answer these calls, Trina decided to forward one of these incoming calls to our fax machine. When she did, we received the fax that the person in front of the fax machine intended to send.

Once received, Trina realized that the transmission was indeed not intended for us, but rather another office within the university. As she began to call the sender to give them the unfortunate news, she visually scanned the fax trying to determine how this person might have gotten the band office confused with the other office in question.

I heard her begin to giggle in a fashion that was most certainly expressive of embarassment for the sender as she explained the error to the person on the other end of the line.

"Ma'am," she said, "someone in your office has been trying to fax a document to our phone number, but that isn't the fax number on the cover sheet. Apparently, that person was accidentally dialing..."


"... the date."

Our phone: 2-1505
Today's date: 2-15-05

Moral of the story: It's better to do nothing at all than to do something stupid.

In just two minutes, this possibility will not occur for another one hundred years. I'm sure by then, everyone will have figured out that it's much easier to just walk things from one place to another.

The hair thing

Seriously. Let's do a before and after here. Ready? Good.

Before



and after



You know, just a simple "Dude, you have like no hair on top would've been nice. I hope you all are interacting nicely on Valentine's Day.

This went out today (without the asterisks)

(I think they should be called "astrices")

February 14, 2005

Dr. D****d L**e
Director, Sch**l of *****
The Univer$ity of *******
*** R***r R**d
A*****, ******* *****-****

Dear Dr. L**e,

I am writing to notify you of my intention to terminate my employment with the Univer$ity of ******* at the conclusion of my current contract. I am deeply grateful for my experiences at *** over the last thirteen years, and will always recall my time here with great fondness.

As you know, my departure is a result of my wish to pursue other interests. My desire to advance my songwriting career has necessitated my relocation and therefore my non-renewal of employment.

Personally, please know that I greatly respect your leadership of the Sch**l of *****. I feel that the school has a sense of “direction” that is greater than at any time since I became affiliated with it in 1992. I am enthusiastic about the future of the Sch**l of ***** under your direction.

Please also know that I greatly respect the current leadership in the **** area. J**n C********e and D***d R*****s are superior musicians, educators, administrators, and gentlemen. I have the greatest confidence in their continued stewardship of the program, and I believe the best possible future for the bands of the Univer$ity of ******* lies in the hands of these men.

Please accept my most heartfelt thanks for all you have done for the school and for me. I wish you and the Sch**l of ***** the very best, and will always be proud to have been associated with this first-rate institution.

Sincerely,



Brett ******


Cc: J**n C********e
D***d R*****s

V-Day

There was a time when this meant something different, but it's what it's.

Three things.

First, Lindsay sent me a picture tonight of me on Jan. 1, 2004 at ye olde Cap One Bowl. Would someone please tell me I am balding!!!!???? I had no idea it had gotten that bad. JC!!!

Second. Sonic still rules.

Third. OK, Valentine's Day, rack, ga gaw ga gaw (insert fart sound). Anyone who is treating this day as profoundly different than any other is missing the point 363 days out of the year. Good luck with your minivan, and may Viagra somehow not work for you.

Sup

Sorry me no bloggy this week. Up late doing shtuff nightly. Here's a recap for those who wish to keep up with my life. Oh, and for those people, would you fill me in on what I'm up to when you get a chance? Thanks.

Monday I recorded quite a bit. For those who don't know, I've been unable to record since mid-September. It was nice to get back to it, and I'm excited about the new material, though there's a problem or two in the lift.

Tuesday, I worked like a dawg. Then Dad came to town and I took him to the Blue Collar TV taping. I think he really liked it. He seems to be in good spirits.

Wednesday, I busted hump on several things trying to get ready to not be available for the rest of the week. Then I went to celebrate Carter's birthday in Dacula. He's four. I bought him a baseball glove. He no likey. Then I came home to hang with my neighbor. She took me downtown. It was quite fun. Then she gave me the last part of my Christmas present, which is probably the coolest gift I have ever gotten (exception: the time Trey, Leigh, Tim, Rusty, and Ellen cleaned my house while I was gone to Midwest and the now infamous Colorado trip). You can see it if you come by.

Thursday. Headache, and basketball. I kicked a band member out of rehearsal for the first time in years. I was bummed. The bball band was in rare form, which means they were completely normal.

Friday (today). Did a concert band camp in Sandy Springs with a killer band. Got to conduct lots of lit I have always wanted to conduct. Great time, great pay. It did take me over 2.5 hours to get there from Athens though. Not cool.

Now here I am, completely exhausted. So there.

Playing the saxophone is like riding a bicycle... you'd best wear a helmet.

(?)

My Imitation of the Philadelphia Eagles

Walk Around Aimlessly
Choke
Walk Around Aimlessly
Stumble on a chance to win
Walk Around Aimlessly
Choke
"Good Game"

On a major news network, just moments ago, an ad appeared for a new shaving product called "Titanium Turbo." In this ad, the announcer expressed confidence in the product by saying "We think it's the best value in shaving today."

I am comfortable with globalizing fields and markets in a single word, so long as the field or market has one of two things: a professional organization or a hall of fame. For example, the following would be acceptable statements:

"The Expos have the best record in baseball." (???)
"My father is in diagnostic imaging and my mother is in real estate."
"One day, I want to have a career in wrestling or country music."

These would not be acceptable:

"Lethargy and it's standard-bearers face an uphill battle against the fitness movement."
"That drag was the most satisfying in smoking history."
"The plain grey coffee cup was perhaps the most groundbreaking in all of pottery."

The end is nigh. Obviously.

Tips for a rewarding retail experience

As the title suggests, I spent a portion of my day doing my part to help improve the U.S. Gross Domestic Product. As a part of my never-ending quest to help educate the American Consumer (and I think you are all aware of my extensive history and work in this area), I am providing several tips for you to consider for your next session of retail therapy.

1. When purchasing boxer briefs, check the size before placing said briefs in your shopping cart.
2. Check the size once again, before removing briefs from packaging.
3. Check the size one last time before trying on the briefs for the first time (no, I don’t “try on” my boxer briefs as soon as I get home… or do I?)
4. Males only (ha!): When purchasing a Leann Rimes CD from a brick-and-mortar purveyor of undergoods, be sure that you take the appropriate precautions to prove your masculinity to the attractive female customer service representative. Some recommended precautions might include:
- Make certain that the cashier overhears you discussing a very specific automotive product with another store employee. Don’t ask where the automotive section is, as this would imply that you rarely visit the automotive section, which is the exact opposite of the impression you are attempting to create. Instead, you might let her hear, “I was disappointed to see that you guys don’t carry belt tensioners for the mid-90’s Fords.” She will think you are hot.
- “Pad” your purchase with “non-girly” goods. Buying the Leann Rimes CD itself is not an infraction, unless you can get her to believe that you 1) are buying it for someone else or B) that you have enough masculine qualities to make up for the soft place in your heart for the music of Ms. Rimes (who, I have just been told, is actually not related to Busta. Interesting.).
Examples of things that would be effective “pad items” might include: Any tool that does not appear in “Baby’s First Tool Kit.” (A wrench doesn’t get it done. A drimel tool does.) Any DVD set of fighting-related activities (ie – rastlin’, Ultimate Fighting Championship). Camouflage Gear (hopefully she will be able to see it in your cart). A T-bone. Steel-toe boots.
Examples of things that would not be effective pad items: Feminine Hygiene Products (Best case scenario, she thinks you’re buying all of this for your significant ubbler, which defeats the purpose in the first place). Any album by a Simpson, a Timberlake, a Twain, or God-forbid an Osmond. Anything with Martha Stewart’s name on it. Latex gloves.
- Pretend in whatever clever way that you can that you are buying it for your mother.
5. Do not “sling” the bag containing the eggs into the cargo area of your SUV.
6. It is not customary to “tip” a Walmart employee.
7. Never, ever, ask an employee where you can find the aloe, petroleum jelly, or any type of lubricant other than 10W40.

Happy shopping, America.

I just walked up on my friend Greg praticing a Schwantner piece on marimba. We were interacting, discussing that Schwantner's music can be difficult to absorb on its first listening, but that it became much more rewarding over time. Greg then made the coolest statement about it: "Yeah, it seems to be accesible in its repetition."

Well said, Greg.

Text Books and Disasters

Two things: (Oh, yeah. Hi!)

1. If they were trying to turn our campus into a Houghton-Mifflin Textbook, I think they might have succeeded.

I was in the Ramsey Center today, drying off and dressing after the ars-kicking I had received (useless quote of the day: “Clothes don’t make the man, they make the man less naked). I overheard a conversation between two gentlemen in another part of the locker room. There was nothing else going on, and it’s in pretty good taste for one to make sure he’s not “browsing around” in the locker room… so one’s ears tend to take over.

I wasn’t so much “listening” as “hearing” their banter. I really didn’t care what they were saying, and I don’t know that a lot of “trade secrets” really float around college campuses. In any case, this was apparently a reunion because there appeared to be some catching up going on (I determined this by the use of context clues, such as “Long time, no see!” or “Yeah, it’s been awhile, good to see you again.” Try it. You’ll like it). I was drying between my toes, as they tell us we should, when I heard something awfully strange. At this point in the conversation, we know that Conversationaler A (Thanks, W!) is now working at bum-ba-bah department, and parks in the north deck. We know that Converser B is working at yada-blah department and parks by wherethehellever. Converser B says to Converser A, “Yeah it seems like the last time we interacted you were over at Human Resources.”

Wait a second. Interacted? Really!!?? Who “interacts?” Does any of you use that term when you’re referring to anything having to do with contact with another human being, be that contact talking about vintage automobiles, discussing clothes, or snuggling? Do you say, “I went to my girlfriend’s house. We interacted, caught Spidey 2 on DVD, then had some Bagel Bites?”

I think these people need to hang out, or talk, or speak to each other. But I don’t think people need to be interacting so much. It can’t be any fun.

2. I’m going to warn you that this might offend you. I won’t refuse to post it though, because I’m knot goeeng two edit this blog becuz I’m worryd uhbout uffinding yoo ineemoore.

I think tragedies are awful and that we should have less of them in real life. 9/11 was obviously an unspeakably horrific event that dramatically changed people’s lives in the worst possible way. Multiply that tragedy by some 100 and you get the tsunami which obviously destroyed lives, families, and dreams. I would choose never to make light of such an event. So I’m not.

But it does stun me how we seem to require a disaster to come together and financially assist those who need it. And we can raise a lot of money by putting stars on tv and having them sing and dance and read and make cool faces.

(Editor’s note: The sacrilege begins now. If you don’t know me, I highly recommend that you stop reading now.)

But I’ve got to make some money somehow. And I’m thinking that a disaster might do the trick (Oh, I know what you’re thinking. “Hey, Brett. Doesn’t your love life count as one already?” Ah, touché, Grasshopper. Shutup). So I am planning a very small-scale disaster for early March. My goal is not to make 10 million dollars with this disaster. I was frankly just hoping to get enough for a nice dinner at Mia Madonna and a bottle of Advil.

So I am announcing “Sneezing Fit 2005.” The basic plan is that I will begin sneezing uncontrollably when speaking to a beautiful woman at the Manhattan. Things will have begun going really well, and she will say to her not-quite-as-cute friend, “Wow he seems interesting.” She will just have turned back to me to ask me what I think about country music when I will accidentally plunge into a sneezing fit, scattering mucous and dreams of a meaningful relationship ‘round the bar.

People will look at me with sympathy. And we'll have a tv show about the money I need to make it up to the poor girl. I'll walk away with about 31.00 USD, and you can walk away knowing you did your part.

Jessica Simpson isn’t much better than Ashlee.

The Philosophy of Me

Well, I'm finding out that several new readers beyond the original one are now reading, so welcome. Unfortunately I'm not going to be really funny tonight. So if you're in the mood for some comedy, maybe wait 'til tomorrow. If you're into a little of my own personal philosophy that may mean nothing to you, by all means read on!

If you're new to this or to me, you may not know that I once decided that everything in life must be dramatic or painful. This can be a lot of fun, but not really. So lots of times I will turn what many may think to be a molehill into my own personal mountain. I made that up myself. Likey?

Any case, the new struggle to become comfortable in my own skin is well underway, and I haven't even listened to the Jessica Simpson song!!! But this is kinda necessary if I'm going to all strike out on my own to Nashvegas and survive five to ten years of often unfair criticism and rejection with no one in town to bring me a little bottle of booze or a copy of Maxim.

So the last two days I've finally let go of some small but strong "things" I thought I had to have. But I wasn't really confident enough to say definitively that I had let go, and if there are two things I hate then one of them is being wrong. The other will wait. We'll have a contest to figure out what the other thing I hate is (HINT: It rhymes with "eeen beans.")

And now I think I have let go. It's not so much a thing, or a person... a possession or a desire. It was more of a pattern of thought. So I believe that the key to keeping myself out of that train of thought is rather simple (but most certainly not easy).

It is simply being... and nothing more.

I believe I have spent these 31 years, not observing or watching the world around me, not learning or absorbing everything else. I believe I have spent it watching me. I've been observing myself from the outside in, constantly critiquing my every "thought and deed" and trying to make sure it lines up with the expectations of those who, quite frankly, don't know me.

Not to be a relativist, but I believe that you can't possibly know what I need. You probably have suggestions, and believe me, I appreciate those when they come out of an honest mouth.

But the trick for me, at least for the last 36 hours or so has been to crawl into myself (Rusty, stop snickering.... Rusty!!!). And yes, it is somewhat physical. It feels like my eyes are sinking into the back of my head and aren't poking into what you're doing. They're not reading into you. They're just watching, and they're watching you in the context of me, rather than me in the context of you and your 6+ billion fellow Earthlings. Not that I think I should observe and not participate, just maybe observe and participate when I am.... called? (hmmm)

So, maybe the next time you see me, maybe you'll think I'm cocky, depressed, or disinterested. Or maybe you'll think I'm (as they say in Garden State) "in it." And I am. "It" is me.

Join us tomorrow for pointless observations of pointless things. And, if you're lucky, perhaps we'll find a new pop star to whom we can feel superior.

Or I might just be sleepy.

I think I just quit fighting. I think it might be because I just won.

Nice job, Dave! Or what I saw of it anyway.

So this is a corollary (I hope that's the right use of the word) to what I wrote earlier. But here it is.

Everyone is crazy! And I mean more than a little bit. Everyone is completely screwed up in the head. Everyone watches Silence of the Lambs and says out loud "Man, that is screwed up crazy," but goes to sleep and thinks of something just as screwed up. Everyone is fed pornography and says, "That is ridiculous" then leaves and asks themselves what that would be like (and for some remember what it is like).

Everyone has this little quirk that they can't get past. One person drinks too much. One sleeps with anything with two legs (God forbid more). One has a commitment thing. One holds the clutch down all the time. Another wears sweaters with lint all over them. One can't find a reed that works.

One teacher sleeps with students, another can't relate to them. One guy is so tight with his money that it tears his marriage apart, another is so loose with it that he can never afford to retire. One woman sleeps all the time, the other can't relax.

So, here's to your quirk. May it make you anything other than normal.

PS - When I go back and listen to editing I've done in the past, I fall in love with those pieces again. Though I'm definitely ready to do something new, I hope I never find myself without new music to completely buy into and feel like I had a little something to do with bringing to life.

PPS - Let's all welcome February, which is traditionally my best writing month of the year. SAA-LUTE!