Friday, December 30, 2005

• I am pretty sure I was in line behind this guy at the Taco Bell tonight.
• The Big E joins us. In order to avoid confusion with tha Big C (who thinks I am a stranger!), I will call him Erik. He really likes that.
This is cool. (Subscription required… you should be reading the paper anyway, even if you don’t like the slant).
This isn’t (diteaux). What the hell is the point of a Sug@r Bowl P@rade without beads and boobs. Absolutely pointless.
• I was reading tonight, and it occurred to me again. I keep waiting for this big thing to happen.. a miracle, a revelation, an epiphany, or something. I think that’s foolish… I think it is always happening.
• The smell of a dryer sheet from the dryer vent reminds me slightly of waiting for the babysitter as my parents were going out on a Saturday night when I was a kid. When you add a touch of cheap perfume and the sound of Mickey Gilley, it reminds me of it a lot. Our babysitters were twins, and (I swear on the future of good whiskey this is true) their names were Daphne and Davina. I wonder what they wound up doing.
• Heading back to Atlanta tomorrow for bowl and new year activities. Back on 1/3.

Wednesday, December 28, 2005

Memory from the Five Points HM

A dear old friend was in town today. David D0ver lived on the floor below me my freshman year in college. My third and fourth years, he lived next door to me. Today, he, his wife, and several members of her family joined me for lunch on the row. They brought their son Owen along, and it was really cool to see them all. (Warning: Inside joke approaching). The conversation and company were great. Not once was I asked whether or not I could sing five shelves elective hole. Here's the post-lunch pic.


My favorite Dave story is from my freshman year. The two of us, along with Special K and others, were making a late night trip to the HM (HM was the W@ffle H0use, and was so named because one of those two put a W@ffle H0use hat on upside down, and the other read the initials too literally). For some reason, Dave had a toy hook arm with which he had been scaring performance majors. Before leaving the dorms for the HM, it was determined that Dave should go into the Waffle House with the hook arm on. On the way to the car, it was furthermore determined that we should make a big deal out of the hook arm upon our arrival at the HM. The end result was as follows.

Special K drove (I think) south on Lumpkin, then East on Milledge and took the left directly into the HM parking lot. He stopped about 20 feet into the parking lot, positioning the vehicle carefully directly in front of the building's largest window so that the car's presence was obvious to all of the restaurant patrons.

I exited the vehicle from the passenger's side and SpecialK popped the trunk. I lifted the trunk door and offered a hand to a fetal yet patient Dave. I helped him out of the car and onto his feet where, in full view of an attentive HM population, he stood looking bewildered and completely unaware of the fact that he had a hook for an arm. Gaining his composure, he slowly turned to look at those dining within, and simply stood and smiled as the HM customers looked on with their mouths open, thinking as one, "WTF?"

The rest of us were laughing wildly at Dave's ice-cold self-control and the awe on the faces of the onlookers. We were also remarkably embarassed to go inside, and instead thought it best to continue down Milledge to the next HM, just so we weren't eating at an establishment at which we were already branded crazy. We did so, and the meal was fine. But I will never forget the looks on those faces as Dave emerged from the trunk. It was as though reality had wrapped itself around its own neck and was threatening to cause the universe to explode. I'm glad I have that to remember.

Tuesday, December 27, 2005

Results of Christmas and Randomhood

I enjoyed a great trip home for Christmas. Russ has pics of the Sweater Party, which I thought was a blast. After hanging one more day with the Blog This and GeorgiaGirl, I headed to my folks’ house.

I’m pretty well convinced that the bed in which I slept at my parents’ house was dressed with brand new sheets… brand new as in unwashed. They were rough enough that I actually had a strawberry on one knee.

I took very few pictures, but here are a couple. This one was right before the present-opening began. The family has gotten big enough that some gifts have to go on the fireplace in order to facilitate walking through the den. It’s really rather ridiculous.

Here’s a pic of the boys (my nephews). Only some of you will know what I’m talking about, but it’s hard to believe that it was almost five years ago that I was canceling the Hawaii Party Part 2 in order to go to the hospital on the night the oldest was born.

I asked for two large gifts this year, expecting that I would only get one of the two. I didn’t get the accordion. I did get this.
Needless to say, this was a hell of a lot of fun to drive from Atlanta to Nashville. It was even more fun unloading it from the ‘splorer into the apartment.

I liked almost everything I got, but I think I might take this one back.
Talk me out of it if I should keep them.


• It is supposed to rain tonight. I’m excited.
• I have been eating like shit since my birthday. I’m not doing that New Year’s resolution stuff, but I am over this. I would start tonight, except the bowl trip will blow it.
AHayes was back in town for a day. We had a blast as always.
Adam Evans is now linked on your right. He’s a former student, a good friend, and probably the most intensely loyal Georgia Bulldog I know. Enjoy.
• I’m-a head back to Atlanta Saturday for the big New Year’ Party and the bowl trip, which isn’t really a trip at all.
• I’m ready for the fall right now.
• AHayes talked with me about a song on the radio called “The D0llar.” I don’t really care for the tune, but it reminds me of a thought I had from my childhood. At about 4 years old, I remember asking my mother where Dad went every day. She told me he went to work. I asked why, and she responded that he went to work to make money. At that moment, a mental picture entered my head that has never really left. That was of my Dad standing above a desk, intently depressing a lever on a machine attached to said desk, and watching pennies fall from the machine into a bucket. Yes, he was making money.

Friday, December 23, 2005

You guys were exceptionally good sports about that. I hope you laughed as loud when you saw the response as I did when I realized my results were sent to a former student that I honestly really don't know that well.

Wednesday, December 21, 2005

Try this.

Oh yeah... this quiz is definitely worth taking.

Be bold and unafraid. It's pretty accurate.

Wrapped in gigglitude

My brother thinks he is very funny. Every year for Christmas, he manages to package something very cleverly or send a message that he thinks is appropriate. He is usually wrong.

I once received a small pocket knife from him. It was wrapped very carefully in a tube that was about five inches in diameter (I wonder if that's a lot... hmmm) and six feet long (I know that is.). I once received a pair of pants that had three holes in it and was missing one-third of one leg. Two years ago, he gave me a plastic shoe horn, on which was a decal with the Auburn logo and an explanation that this was to be used to remove the Warplainstigers foot from Georgia's ass the following fall.

He really is a card.

This year, I am reminded that Christmas is not only about giving. It's also about receiving. I will be receiving me a belly-full-'o'-laughs when he opens one of his gifts this year.

Here is the actual gift itself, a book that I happen to know he wants.

Here is the package as it will appear before he opens it.
Totally Wrapped

Luckily for those of us on the correct side of the rivalry, I thought to purchase an AJC before leaving Athens on the morning of December 4, 2005. I thought that one particular page from that paper would make good "padding" for the gift. The result, when he opens it, will be something like this:

So what if they beat us. Little bastards still aren't champs.
Did I just see Malc0lm-Jam@l W@rner pretending to be a member of a pseudo E@rth, Wind, and Fire band on a T@rget commercial?
• Today, I finally got my business license, so my plan to take over QuikTrip is underway.
• Got my guitar back from the shop, uuuuuuuuh-gain. The first time I took it in was on the morning of the expletiving Tennessee game. It's been in twice, and I picked it up today to find that only half of the work I had requested had been done. Needless to say, I'm pretty pissed off (but only paid half of the price of the new set of strings for the entire repair job... a solution that kept me from going postal at the local Music and Ar+s).
• I saw Charlie and the Chocolate Factory tonight. I liked it. I also saw The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and was unpleasantly surprised.
• I have more additions to the side, even though some in the list have not posted in over three months. I won't be blog police right now, because I know life gets busy. I'm only pulling links when someone officially closes their blog, or when they tell me that they're not going to blog anymore.

With that in mind, there are some additions to the right (again: your right, my left):

The Blog Flogger is one of the guys who works in the office in which I used to work. He's a great guy, and a donk trombone player.
The Big Bad Wolfe is a musician and teacher with whom I get to work every now and then, not to mention a great friend. He now teaches in small town America, and runs a "You Scratch My Back" racket with the Barr0w County Oobs.
Special K is really Alan K, with whom a spent a significant amount of my mischeivous free time in undergrad. We work together pretty frequently, and I miss being around him as much as I was when we were at UGA. He's also a great teacher, and a hell of a good cook.

Tuesday, December 20, 2005


I’ve been catching up on DVD’s lately, in an effort to make up for anything I may have missed when I was in a job that was significantly busier than the one I have now. Over the last three days, I have been enjoying seasons 1 and 2 of the series NewsRadio. When Russ and I used to hang out pretty much every night (which eventually became 6 or 7 of us hanging out every night), we would have a drink and watch whatever crap the TV would spit out at us. There were at least three serials, however, that I didn't feel fell into the crap category.

For about a year or so, A&E would rerun NewsRadio frequently, and often in marathons. I think that was the first show whose sudden appearance I recall to have caused both of us to say “Hell, yes,” go back to the kitchen for just one more, and settle in until the network moved on to some new program. In fact the only other one that I remember working that way for us was Sportsnight (the DVD of which would later become the centerpiece for gatherings of several of us). West Wing would often work with Trina.

I like the marathon idea, as long as I like the show. In fact, like a good book, I find that I get involved or invested in the show, the characters, and especially the theme music (if it’s good). When the marathon or DVD ends, I kinda feel like I’ve lost some friends. And I guess that means that those involved in the production did their jobs… and that I have behaved exactly as they had hoped I would. Wow, I should be sorta sad about that.

Monday, December 19, 2005

That Toddlin' Town

I’m back from the great white north. I used to have a love-hate relationship with that conference, but now that I don’t feel an obligation to be anywhere before 5:00 pm I really enjoy it.

I have included a very few photos for your enjoyment. I still haven’t quite grasped that batteries can “run down,” so the level of sharing is limited to what I could manage to take before this inevitability became a reality.

In an effort to avoid being branded a potential terrorist, any pictures I took on the train were taken discretely. So I only took two. For those of you who haven’t seen snow in a while, this is what it looks like from the train.

A look at the floor of the train is a nice reminder that having snow (and thus sand) all over the place might be fun and all, but it can make for some pretty disgusting surfaces (not that train floors were ever… whatever, here’s the damn picture because I took it).

There are lots of really cool things to do at this convention, but by far my favorite was always the revelry (and the side effects thereof) that took place at the bar in the lobby of the Hilt0n. This year was no exception, and Happy Holidays were enjoyed by many.

As a public service, I wisely thought to take a series of time-lapse photos documenting the increasing population of the bar as the evening progressed. Though the results are a little disappointing (it was the slowest of the three nights), I still think it is worth posting.

Photo #1 is from somewhere in the neighborhood of 8:30 PM CST Wednesday.

Photo 2 is at approximately 9:40 PM CST. Again, I am really disappointed in the results and my poor battery management.

Photo 3 was at about 10:15 PM CST. I think you can tell that the cigars had come out at this point.

Here are Mike and Scott after a lovely dinner with the Lovely Young Woman (and for the record, she proved herself to be all three), a friend at Miss0uri, and your's truly (me).

Here’s Barnes, right after he thought of a way for us to get a free round of drinks.

Here’s my attempt to take a picture of Barnes forging the receipt in the name of one of his friends (along with the friend’s room number). Brad’s friends were really good to us. Whether or not they intended to be isn’t the point. (Editor’s Note: This picture is blurry because Dwight bumped me, almost made me spill my drink, and did cause the camera to move.)*

This is what the bar looked like at closing time (Editor’s note: The camera was not moving. This is definitely exactly what the bar looked like. I know because I remember… sorta.)

Needless to say, closing time is just an excuse to get some fresh air and find a new place to continue the revelry. Many of us did. Pictures are not available.

Other highlights and lowlights include the following:

• Scott had to bolt before I got a chance to say good-bye. Good-bye after the fact. I know I’ll see you ‘fore long.
• Barnes broke the company record for Manhattans consumed at one sitting. That would be 8, and the rest of his night reflected this. It was pretty much priceless, and full of well-intended cursing (Example: “I f**king love you, man.”).
• Enjoyed conversation with Mike as much as I ever had. He had lots of well-timed wisdom.
• The lack of pressure, resulting from no longer working at my former place of employment, allowed me to enjoy my time there much more.
• I was repeatedly asked repertoire questions. I would usually attempt to answer the questions, and then remember that this was my area of greatest weakness in my former profession.

All ridiculous examples of consumption aside, it was a very nice few days in a new-old venue with good old friends and some new ones. In addition to those already mentioned (I realize some of the names will mean nothing to some readers), I enjoyed quality time with Christian, Laura and D, Heath J., and at least one Matt. There were also some Richards.

When I can afford it and justify it professionally, I would like to be in a position in which I could jet out of town to a new place for a few days at a time every six weeks or so. It just keeps things fresh.


* - This is not true.

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Out to lunch and more documentation

I am off to Chicago Wednesday morning and won’t be posting in that time. If I do not have something to say when I return Saturday evening, the trip will have been a waste of time and a total buzzkill.

When I began this blog almost 13 months ago, it was intended to allow me to join a trend, share my silly little ideas with people with whom it wasn’t feasible to speak everyday, and to document what seemed to be a puzzling time in my life. I never kept a journal, and this seemed to be a reasonable outlet.

Having now lived in Nashville some five months, the blog seems to have become a documentation of my progress in the music business. I hope I never bore you with it (you know what to do if I do!) but I think this is a worthy cause.

Over the last couple of weeks, my attention has admittedly been more drawn to Nashville than it has been since I moved, for a variety of reasons. Since beginning that change of focus, I have definitely begun to feel that I was progressing more rapidly in my professional trip. I have started feeling more and more like I was actually achieving something here (albeit very slowly… just how I prefer it) rather than simply sleeping here.

Tonight was a particularly strong example. On Sunday, I met a writer in the kitchen of the home where the party was held. We’ll call him Don. Don was a quiet guy, the sort of person to whom, as I mentioned a few days ago, I feel I should make it a point to pay attention. As he drank his Dixie cup full of pure water (he didn’t appear to be in “need” of water), we struck up a conversation that was rather dry yet comfortable. I had overheard that he was playing a round tonight, and I asked him about it. After he confirmed the time and location, I mentioned that I might attend. He encouraged this, mentioning that there would be three other very solid writers.

Tonight I went to that show, which was honestly rather out of the way. As I sat for dinner, he made it a point to say hello to me from the stage in the middle of a tune. Over the course of the next hour or so, I realized that his reference to the other writers as “solid” was a wee bit understated. By the time the show was over, I had heard old and new music by the writers of this, this, and this, among others. And I didn’t realize until he played it that Don himself had written this.

At that point, I think I realized that a great deal of the key to becoming a successful part of this community is to genuinely want to be a successful part of this community – not to attempt to get to know people for the purpose of exploiting their own prior success. I would never intentionally use someone, but everyone has heard the phrase “It’s not what you know, it’s who you know” before. The temptation to try to develop a professional relationship with the people one meets, without bothering to concern oneself with the real individual, is a temptation for everyone here. I suspect the people who have operated in that fashion have either gone home or soon will.

After the show, Don was very cordial – took the time to thank me for coming, asked me about my week, and encouraged me to keep writing. I thanked him for letting me know about it, and promised to do my best to show the next time he was playing. If a number one eventually develops out of the acquaintanceship, great. If it doesn’t, it has to be enough for what it is – and that in itself is worth enjoying… another friend, another part of the ride, and another story to tell.

For the record, in the midst of listening to the classic tunes these gentlemen were singing, I was reminded of a couple of really important and valuable facets of this brand of music. I had forgotten about the importance of humor in a song, and will try to get back to that immediately. I had also forgotten about the a-ha moment, the live performance of which often results in a verbal expression by the audience indicative of what I like to call The Gospel of Country Music (just my overly dramatic name for a very real phenomenon that I think one can only experience here). I’m sure there’s a post coming on that one day.

Sunday, December 11, 2005

So, I didn’t mention in the last big entry that I had been invited to a holiday party that was to have taken place tonight. It was pulling rotten teeth to get myself to go, but I did. And I had a great time.

I met and became friends with some folks who have been doing what I am doing for a long time. I think I might have acquired some degree of comfort that I had been looking for… a way to socialize here with people that have an interest in this business. I met some folks that I think I can work with. I also saw some folks that gave me a solid vision of what I don’t want to become. I think that’s healthy.

It was a good night.
I don't know when the D@wgVent got this far off course, but this is the most screwed up string I have ever seen. I can not imagine.
Finally saw Sling Bl@de tonight. I've been missing out.

Saturday, December 10, 2005

Making something happen (long with lots of backstory)

The most solid and promising friendship that I have with a person in the business (we’ll call him Dave) was a result of what has been considered my best song to date… those of you who know me pretty well, know what that song is… it has the name of one of the people linked to the right in the title. He became familiar with the tune in the late winter and spring of 04 as it was being reviewed for the song contest that was sponsored by the organization for which he works. As each of the ten finalist songs was being announced at the gathering at the end of a conference, the writer stood and was recognized. He approached me about writing after that happened, and thus began the friendship.

Later that summer, after writing together, he referred me to another person (we’ll call him Chad) in the industry who, when he hears a song of promise, has the ability to do something about it. This person listened to my stuff, and didn’t do what I wanted him to do. But he did offer me a spot in a once-per-month seminar his organization/company does with up-and-comers every summer. I began to attend this seminar in the late summer of 04, but I could not continue due to a legal issue prohibiting me from becoming a member of his organization until the Summer of 06. Nevertheless, I met a writer (let’s call her Jenny) at one of the seminars I was able to attend. We agreed to write the next time I was in town. We had a brief email exchange, and then we stopped communicating since it was so tough for me to write with her from out of town.

When I moved here in July of this year, I sent several emails to friends in town letting them know that I was on my way. One of them was to Jenny, whom I had really planned on writing with. I received no response from her, and was frankly a little agitated that this was the case. I also knew, however, that she was getting some attention from publishers, and decided to accept the fact that she may no longer want to write because she may be getting action with hit writers already. I figured that I probably wouldn’t hear from her, and just got on with it.

Lately, most of the time I have spent on the internet has been devoted to researching songwriting websites and kinda trying to keep my “finger on the pulse” of what’s going on. A couple of weeks ago, I stumbled onto a site that was promoting a showcase for a writer. The writer was Jenny, and the venue happened to be the same one in which this night started. Oddly, in an effort to reconnect with one of the first writers I got to know after I moved (we will call her Lisa), I noticed on her website that she would be performing as a member of Jenny’s band at this showcase. I decided, “what the hell,” and booked myself to go to the show tonight.

I sat in the corner at the show, as I usually do. When Lisa arrived, she noticed me there and came up to say hello. In the course of conversation, I told her that I had known Jenny from some time back but was sure she “didn’t remember me” (because I was sure that, if she didn’t want to write, she would pretend she didn’t remember, and I didn’t see the point in embarrassing her). Lisa replied, “No, I’m sure she does,” and proceeded back to Jenny to initiate a re-introduction. Jenny came over and we “re-met.” After 30 seconds of catching up, she recalled the last name. I told her I was in town now and had been for several months.

Shortly thereafter she said, “Well, when are we going to write?”

Before the end of the evening (which was actually quite humorous in a number of ways) I had a three-person co-write (which is not what it’s called, but I’m trying to keep Russ from giggling) promised in early January. I had also learned that Jenny no longer had my email address because she had lost a year’s worth of emails deleted from her server. Whether or not that was the whole truth isn’t important (and for the record, she seemed sincere… not that I’m a great judge of that).

The point is that I learned tonight that, when things aren’t happening and “letting go” doesn’t seem to be getting me somewhere, maybe making something happen will. Stay tuned.

Thursday, December 08, 2005


I’m normally a person who does his best work alone. When the partial phrase “group proj…” was uttered at any level of school, I almost always threw up a little. I never felt my best work was completed that way.

Lately, however, a couple of opportunities have presented themselves in which I could collaborate with responsive, open, honest, and respectful minds. It gives me a glimmer of hope that I may be able to work with someone in a creative fashion.

An old friend or two has agreed to work with me on their fall shows, and at times I find myself very happy to have such inventive, creative material and feedback with which to work. Tonight, I spent three hours in a co-write (smack dab in the middle of the Tech bball game) with a guy who loved what we started with enough that he agreed with me that we couldn’t phone the second verse in. That seems to be rare around here. For better or worse, we wrote nary a word in stone. We spent that time debating the character of the character we were writing. Though I know I am bad about injecting talk like that into everyday conversation at times, I’m really glad he had the patience and resolve to respect the seed of the song enough to make sure that the execution was deserving of its origin.

I curse my work on a frequent basis, but I suspect that is more out of loneliness or frustration than anything. I really like making stuff up. I function really well in a make-believe world. I have always been better at that than maintenance, and that realization honestly is owed to Dwight, whether or not he is an ass.

Unfortunate also, however, is that I make up a lot of things. Sometimes, I insist that they must become true, and torture my chassis until it becomes so. Other times, I wind up disappointed. And I guess that winds up as fuel for more imagination.

I would love to live in a world of truth… where things were obvious, and time wasn’t wasted figuring out what reality was. I would love to live in a world in which people weren’t offended when you said what you really thought, and where you never lived in fear of doing that.

I think that’s a pipe dream. But I do appreciate the glimpses of that possibility that I get when someone tells me that I did something exactly right, or exactly wrong. I appreciate my current collaborators in all media for doing that.

What I fear the most is that I might love that idea so much that I won’t be able to function long in a world that isn’t based on telling the truth the second you know it. I worry that I might believe in the face value so much that I may not ultimately be able to deal with the fact that we lie and mislead in order to end in a way that meets our satisfaction.

I have rarely been happy with the truth, but I have always been satisfied when it was given to me completely and without remorse or reservation. I’m not much of a salesman for that reason… I demand that you know of my penchant for sleeping long hours, a relaxed glass of jack, the stupid in the context of the noble, and a disdain for those who can’t make decisions and don’t think about the big picture before doing so. I guess my only outlet at this point is to keep doing what I (and maybe I only) know how to do. That is to be myself, and trust that there are more people out there willing to think the same thing.

For now, I seem to be calmed by the fact that I couple of great collaborators are listening, and they’re telling me everything they think and perceive. And that’s fine… for now.

Tuesday, December 06, 2005

Thanks, D.J.


What a pretty picture.


Ok, now that I've gotten that out of the way, I am going to give myself a bit of encouragement after a five-day stretch that has seen extreme highs and bitter lows. Read if you want. It is, after all, a public blog. But don't think ill of me for preaching... I'm not writing this for you tonight.

Last August, I proclaimed my belief that Georgia would go 7-4. I didn't think Shock would get all of the way through the season as a starter. I think I had reasons to believe that, and I was absolutely dead wrong.

As many have already said, D.J. has to go down as one of my favorite Dawgs ever. That he sat for four years and waited patiently and without public outburst is admirable, but many thought it was stupid. I include myself in that group. That he accepted circumstances that should have relegated him to status as an also-ran in the history of Georgia football was portrayed by many to be either foolish or indicative of a lack of confidence in his own abilities. I include myself in that group also. That he took his only chance and turned it into paydirt is nothing but magic and a testament to the fact that loyalty and belief can still result in something great in a world based more and more on probability and actuarial tables.

This is obviously not the ultimate feat in football, but for myself and many others it is the sweetest tonight.

The statement "there were no expectations this year" is stupid. There were expectations (there always are). We expected not to be in this game. We expected D.J. to take one for the team and regret having ridden this thing out to the end of the line. We expected to be average. It's one thing to be expected to dominate a season and to fulfill that expectation. It is a far more rewarding end to be expected to be average and to emerge a champion.

At a time when I had lost just a little bit of the width in my eyes... at a time when I had begun to stop believing in fairy tales, in risk, or in belief itself... at a time when I started to think that the smart money was with the oddsmakers, D.J. reminded me why I needed to keep my belief in the infinite and the preference for being the underdog.

This was sweeter because it was all but impossible.

I love the vision of a 5'8" defensive back intercepting a ball against a man 6 inches taller than him, and outrunning faster men as assistant coaches and trainers fall to the ground, pounding the artificial turf with their open hands, and screaming their vocal cords into nodules, "Go, go, go, go, go, go, goooooooooooo!" I love Sid Bre@m running on a bad knee, lumbering around the bags, running a race that he can't win against a 9-inch-around ball that can travel over 100 mph, and winning. I love the unsinkable shot from half court that swishes. I love the afterburner firing on the last turn for the victory, the Hail Mary that connects, the ugly guy that gets the girl because he's funny, the cancer patient that beat 10-1 odds and lives to become a successful physician, the no-name candidate that shocks the world, the royal flush, and the 400-pound guy that whittles it down to 185.

Success is great. But I think that the people who really experience euphoria are the ones who find the impossible and unthinkable missions, fulfill them, and have learned to experience the moment. I think that might have something to do with why I chose a profession in which the odds are so bad.

I needed to be reminded to get to know the geeky-looking kid that looks like he will be picked last. I needed to remember to eat at the hole in the wall. I needed to recall that the guy with the rough voice might be the most beloved radio personality. I had to remember to write against the market, to love the one you can't have even when you know you're going to have your heart broken, to speak the socially unacceptable, to belch, to take the scenic route, and to risk imperfection.

I believe that the euphoria of beating the odds makes you virtually forget your failures. I believe that riders on the bandwagon experience empty victories. I believe that those who seek to live lives devoid of complication and frustration will get exactly that, and that nothing that is worth doing is easy.

Thanks D.J. I am glad this had paid off for you so far, and I hope it continues to do so for a long time. It definitely did for me.

Friday, December 02, 2005

When I'm 64 (edited)

So, today (12/1) was my birthday. Yay. Late last night, I wrote a parody of “When I’m 64” but I pulled it at about 6am ET, for fear that anyone who might have forgotten the day might see this as a veiled attempt to publicize the day.

In the mean time, I have received no less than 60 IM’s, emails, Facebook messages, and phone calls to wish me well. Those who forgot were way more apologetic than necessary, and those who remembered were way too kind. I… well, I pretty much laid around and did nothing all day.

In an effort not to rob the world of useful parody, I have decided to repost last night’s entry. Hope you enjoy. And if you didn’t know, buy me something nice, and see if I remember yours. I’m horrible. In fact, comment with your birthday, so those in the blogosphere who care for you by way of ones and zeroes can wish you happy birfday. Enjoy.

When I get older
Devoid of hair
Twice as old as now
Will you still be humping me on Valentine’s
Hiding all my bottles of wine
If I’d come home
With my women friends
Who really were whores
Would you still love me
Lying above me
When I’m 64

You’ll be older too.
Aaaaaaah, and if you say the word
I could lay on you.

I could be handy
Watching the tube
When your urge is gone
We could watch the bulldogs by the ocean side
Take my Harley
Go for a ride
Poisoning my mistress
Smoking my weed
Who could ask for more
Though you might strike me
Will you still like me
When I’m 64

Every summer we could rent a woman on the first of June
She will cook and clean
It’s my half birthday
Ahhhh and if you don’t like her
She won’t have to stay

Send me an ointment
Drop by the home
Force me to eat fruit
Check up on my fiber and triglycerides
Sneak me in some foods that are fried
Give me a back rub
Spike my IV
Pick at my bed sores
Girl will you hate me
Or stimulate me
When I’m 64