This should interest anyone who has been a fan of country music or Elvis Presley at any point in the last 30 years. A songwriter named Dennis Linde died in Nashville last week. Based on the news pieces and what his friends have said about him, he was a humble man who really didn't care for a place in the spotlight.

He did some amazing work, though. You can see some of his titles here...

Brilliant.

I just thought it was important to recognize that he was alive and that he did what he did. That's the kind of guy that I look up to.

It has simply been too busy to update. So, I am planning a lllllllaaaaaaarrrrrrrrggggggggeeeeee update in the next couple of days, and I'm struggling to come up with a way to make it interesting enough for you to read all the way through. However, you should know that I bought a new car today. It will be in tomorrow, and I will tell you all about it including pictures and details of the decommissioning ceremony for the Trusty Explorer. Soon.

I'm back from Chicago (or as Bill Martin would say, "Chicargo"). Too tired to recap right now, but all was great. I hope to update tomorrow in between buying the last couple of gifts, wrapping everything, and hopefully driving to Georgia. I also hope to do my little end of the year blog thing, which I am considering cynically titling "2006: The Year of the Inevitable."

Chicago

I'm heading to Chicago Tuesday afternoon. I never would have guessed fifteen years ago that I would care for Chicago as much as I do, but I do like it a lot. On top of that, several dear friends will be there to join me in professional debauchery. If everyone will cooperate and not die, then this will be the only time in the next year when I have to wear a sport coat. Here's hoping.

I'm back in Nashville on the 22nd, then I'm off to Georgia on the 23rd for Christmas and buying a new car. Um, yay.

Who rhymed precocious and pro blush?

I went to a new gym just for today for a change of pace. I got my butt whooped by a StairMaster, which is pretty standard. Less standard was the moment I realized that I was exercising feet away from this person. At first I thought that time hadn't been too good to her, but changed my mind later when I learned that she is sixty-one years old. That doesn't seem right, but it is.

Holiday Randomness in Prose

In spite of the difficulty of recovering from Kip's visit, I am having one of the more productive weeks I recall. This is sort of strange, considering the disillusionment with music I am experiencing now (but have not blogged about for hope that ignoring it will cause it to disappear). In spite of the strangeness, I am ok with that.

I have recently begun to pay attention to the two professional teams Nashville "sports" (puuuuuuuuhhhhhlllllllleaze). The Predators are having a nice year, but I wish I understood hockey a bit more than I do, eh. The Titans are recovering nicely from a rough start, and the town seems to be behind them again. I don't think I will ever be able to be diehard for either one. I think only the Dawgs and the Braves get those honors. But I do randomly find myself yelling at the tv set when something goes well for one of them. Plus, it is a lot of fun to say "Go Titans" with a Tennessee accent.

Music nerds: I have learned that "James B0nd Theme" breaks at least two significant rules of orchestration. It doesn't seem to matter, though. For what it's worth, I really enjoyed Casin0 R0yale... the real one, that is.

On the other hand, purchasing and cooking the PotatOH! was a waste and a bust... and not the good kind of bust.

I met another Georgia fan songwriter tonight, and that was kinda cool.

When the announcer on Family Feud says "Ready for Action," I never think they look like they are really.

I would be willing to bet Jared didn't have the chips or the Cokes.

I wonder if Gwen Stefani will have some more songs that don't sample or use material from old Broadway musicals.

I wonder why I know that about Gwen Stefani.

Lamest blog entry ever.

Yeah.

Buckeye Blowout, thanks to Kip

Kip Pantries dropped by for the weekend, and we had a blast. Based on the past, you can pretty much guess how we spent most of the weekend.

Because there is now a painfully obvious absence of college football on television, we felt it necessary to correct this by way of the Playstation 2. At some point in time, a discussion arose regarding the 1916 blowout of Cumberland College by Georgia Tech. After forgetting about the topic for some time, we found ourselves in the middle of a brutal game between the Georgia Bulldogs and the Ohio State Buckeyes. Kip was having a bit of a difficult time rallying his OSU team, so I gave him a garment that I thought might help.


The resemblance is stunning

After donning the garment, Kip went all Rudy on me and began beating Georgia's arse. Feeling bad that we had been contributing to a Bulldog defeat, we attempted to rectify the error by running up the score for the Dawgs a la NATS 1916. The result was significant.

Barely even had to lift a finger.

Kip was ATL-bound this morning with quite the emerging cold and fifteen fresh dollars from the poker game that followed the blowout. We had a great time as always.

Lots of work this week, along with a visit from Warren. I've been thinking about my dad a lot lately, and will probably get a little mushy about that some time this week too.

O Holy Night

Do it, but make sure you have your throat lump remover handy. For me this is where this show became un-missable. Unreal.


(Hat tip: Michael Ledford via Facebook. Thank you!)

Still expect the single on iTunes without dialogue tonight. Also, expect me to transcribe the living shit out of that arrangement... surprise.

Edit: Thanks also to Amos who called today and turned me onto "Tromb0ne Sh0rty," who is - not so oddly - the featured trumpet player. You can find more info at his website and at his myspace page. Thanks Amos!

Edit 12/10/06: At one point in time, there was a video above of the version of "O H0ly Night" from Studi0 60 on the Sunset Strip. It has since been removed. You can buy the whole episode from iTunes if you want.

I am genuinely sorry that I've been non-bloggy. There is much that I want to tell you, but I just haven't found the right way to say it. I'll come up with it soon. Hope everyone is well.

Pulling against Tech is almost as much fun as pulling for Georgia.

... make that 15 by phone.

I rarely laugh out loud when I watch television. As I watched Dave and Conan tonight, I noticed myself giggling aloud and thought to myself how strange that was. I have decided that it was either because I felt particularly good after a really good leg workout today, or because I heard from 14 people by phone and 36 by email or Facebook in one day. If it was the latter, that's pretty cool.

"Give 'em some space..."

SotonightIwenttoasongcritiquedowntown,andyouweresupposedtobring
yourbestChristmassongsoItooktheonlyoneIhad,andIdidn'trealizehow
downrightmiserableitislisteningtonothingbutChristmassongswithtitles
like"MerryChristmasFromIraq"forTWOFREAKINGHOURS!!!"andthepeople
doingthecritiquedidn'tlikemysongwhichIdidn'tfeelthatbadaboutsince
thedudekeptsaying"timesignature"whenhereallymeant"tempo,"andthe
winningsongwascalled"Santa'sBigFatAss,"andnoIamnotkiddingabout
that,butIstillcan'tgetthattwohoursofmylifeback,andinthatregard
Nashvillecompletelysucksrightnow.

(breath)

When I was a teenager, I thought Crystal Bernard was hot. I don't really think so anymore.

It (meaning the temperature... how are you supposed to always know that "it" means the temperature? Jeezis) got up to 74 degrees today. Friday it (yes, "it" still means the same thing) is supposed to get down to 28, with a very minor chance of a flurry. Also, it has started getting dark before 5 again.

11:45

I'll make this pretty short and marginally sweet. I'm in Marietta at my last stop before returning to Nashville tomorrow morning. My brain has been in overdrive since I arrived for Cub's birthday dinner on Monday, through my longest trip to my parents' house since I was a sophomore in college, and through the greatest morning in the history of Georgia football (i.e. Techfast 2006, which is pictured at left thanks to GeorgiaGirl). I will offer more detail later, but this trip was exactly what I have needed for quite some time. I'm re-energized, uncharacteristically optimistic, scared to death yet somehow feeling braver than normal, and actually rather thankful. Appropriate I guess.

Oh, yes... and I (as you are) am also victorious. I hate Tech.

Insert Dexter Freebish Lyrics here

I had planned to head back to Georgia later this week. A seat-of-the-pants gathering of recent (and a couple of perhaps future) Athens expatriates has caused me to push my trip up to Monday morning. So, I'm headed to the Classic City at 11am.

It's looking like I will get a day in Athens, about three in Throbbing, and then a few days possibly split between Athens, Marietta, and maybe even Gainesville.

I can't imagine that I will be writing much between now and then. Hopefully that won't matter, because hopefully you will be in a tryptophan- and gin-induced haze before you know it. Don't forget to purchase lime or lemon before you get started!!

I am ready to not be here for a while. Happy early Thanksgiving!

So I haven't mentioned this, because I thought would have gone away before now. It hasn't.

I have basically been laid up at home all week as the result of an exercise accident. The result is that I am awfully sore on the left side of my lower back, and somehow I am also hurting in my right heel. Think about it hard enough and you'll realize that the foot on which I would be relying is the one that is apparently bruised.

So, I'm a bit pathetic right now.

However, I did find this, and it amazes me in the dorkiest of ways.

Also, Rob won the caption contest with, "My uncle is a dick. What is this box for?" Congratulations to all of the players.

Beer me, son.

I've been pretty well pre-occupied with the events in Athens over the last few days. I am sure that you are dying for more material from me, but I just don't have it.

So instead, I'll hold a caption contest. The winner gets a six-pack of Bud Light. Bear in mind, that this is my nephew, so attempt not to insult the uncle of the child in the photograph...

Oh, what the hell. Insult me. Beat me. Make me write bad checks.

But contribute damnit.

Alright... On your mark...










Get set....


















GO!

Bullitz

• Great times in Nashvegas with BlogPong around. We caught Borat on Friday. It was riotously funny if at times completely inappropriate. Saturday you know what we did, because you did too.

• If you are interested in economics, globalization, or the future, you should read this book. It has affected my thinking more profoundly than any book I have read recently, with the possible exception of this book.

• I am getting restless. Like, bad restless.

• The following are some issues that I have with the way we use the English language. Some of you have already been graced with my monologue on these subjects, and that's okay. You may think my opinions about these things are wrong, but you are mistaken.
- The term "negative" as it relates to x-rays is misleading. "X-rays were negative" should mean that x-rays indicated something bad. This is currently not the case.
- The term "semi-annual" should not mean "every six months." It should mean "every two years." "Bi-annual" should mean "every six months."
- If one "receives" a "reception," then one should not "intercept" an "interception." One should "interceive" an "interception."

How 'bout them dawgs!!???

If you haven't heard, the short list of candidates for a significant position at my alma mater was published today. A man who gave an awful lot more of himself to the organization than would anyone else I know was not on that list. Their ommission is wrong on multiple levels. I have never been more disappointed in Georgia than I am tonight.

If I could throw something through a wall in this blog, I would.

And by the way, I am relatively sure that there were several thousand men in middle America (and probably a few women in other locales) on the floor with their heads tilted skyward when this was on the tube...

... or maybe it was just me.


Image: ABC/CMA

Somebody's Pissed!!!

Edit: I just saw that Russ beat me to this. I'm surprised that doesn't happen more often, since he probably wakes up before like 10 am.

Sometimes you're the windshield. Sometime you're the judge that everyone thinks is a loon or a drunk... and they might be right.

Wow. Ugh.

I am back in Nashville after a long-ass weekend in Missouri. I am really worn out, but am providing a very brief recap for your records.

Friday

I arrived just in time to hear the Miss0uri band rehearse. They are really sounding quite good, and have improved a lot in the last year. Knight had me write a tune for them earlier this year, and I got to hear them do that. That never gets old.

Dinner with most of the judging staff followed. We got full stomachs and half-drunk.

Saturday

7am wake-up. I wasn’t happy.

9am downbeat. I was ok… for a while.

In a huge judging error, I reacted to a dramatic change in the quality of bands right after lunch, followed by another dramatic change in the other direction. It was at this point that every band started sounding the same, and my gap never really recovered. The result was that one band that was sorta ok wound up making the final show. It was entirely my fault. The result for me was that:

1) I started thinking that judging shows might not be my, um, forte… and
2) I will never judge in the Great State of Miss0uri again.

I handled finals muuuuuuch better.

As promised, we wound up at the Heidelberg after the show. Due to social conventions and personal understandings, I can not reveal the events that took place after entering the establishment. Needless to say, we had a great time…

Sunday
…until around 1am.

I was out of bed at 6:30 this morning, and I was not happy.

In the Kansas City airport, it was revealed to us that Southwest had oversold our flight. They asked for volunteers, and I hopped on that shit. The result of this was that I arrived at home some seven hours later than I had planned. I also arrived at home with travel vouchers that will at least send me to Midwest for free.

Russ this Thursday. Random shit until then.

Go midwest, young man

Just a few bullets for you on the way out of town. This won't hurt, did it?

• Tonight's college football game was somewhat enjoyable and all. But I hope that the defense?-schefense! way of doing things isn't going to become the norm.

• I am flying here tomorrow to judge Knight's show. I am obviously excited to see him. I am also excited to see some great bands, and get a drink or three at one of America's great college hangouts.

• As you may have read, BlogPong is headed up soon for a weekend of sobriety, a symphony concert, and the watching of documentaries.

• The week got better.

Well, I guess if you want to squeeze in that game of Plinko or Guess Which One you'd better get crackin'!!

No idea why I am telling you this

Tonight, three minutes shy of my becoming exactly 32 years and 11 months old, the following thought ocurred to me for the first time ever:

Hmmm... Nothing rhymes really nicely with "Skeleton."

And then one minute later, I thought:

Wait... there's "gelatin!"

And then I told you about it.

That is all.

Tonight I heard my friend and undergrad-next-door-neighbor play this with them. He hasn't changed since college.

Very bluntly...

Not to be mopey, but I suddenly find myself in that spot where I'm looking around me and realizing that what I'm doing is not working. It's been a rough week, and I'm beginning to understand why so few people move here and attempt to do this. I'll dig out of this, but I really need something good to happen soon. Think good thoughts if you don't mind.

I'm ready for Thanksgiving.

Damn

What a game. We obviously had our problems, but I don't remember being quite this proud after a loss in some time.

For the rest of the night:

Gators wear Jean Shorts!
Go Cocks!
Sooners Suck!
Go Dawgs!

What "Go Gators" Really Means

HatTip: WDH via DawgRun.

I'm picking out a Thermos for you. Not an ordinary Thermos for you. But the extra best Thermos that you can buy, with vinyl and stripes and a cup built right in. - Mr. Steve Martin, The Jerk

Random Weekend Thoughts

- It sounds to me, in the song "(I've Had) The Time of My Life", as though there are about nine lead vocalists at different points in the song.

- Pizza Hut needs to pick, say, three types of pizza and stick with them.

- I don't think the word "biopic" should be a word, and I really don't think it should be used in legitimate press (sic) articles. Also, I think it should be hyphenated, because it looks to me (and is thus interpreted to sound) like the word "bionic," which should be a word.

- Memo to the 2% of people at the Georgia game last Saturday who booed MoMass:

Please shut the hell up or quit coming to Georgia games. When you cheer the next time we win a championship, I'm going to vomit all over your trailer and your 1986 TransAm.

Thanks,

Brett

Because I hate it when someone solicits my advice and then goes in a direction other than the one I recommended without explanation, the following are my verdict and some of the reasons why.

I'm going to Athens...

1. Because the end of Funkle is a bigger deal to me than might seem apparent for a number of reasons.
2. Because I have a meeting in Gainesville on Monday.
3. Because to change course and tell my mom I'm coming to Gatlinburg could put her in the position of doing a lot of work to accomodate me at the last minute.
4. Because I will see my folks in a couple of weeks due to an event that I will tell you about when I can.

Thanks for the advice. Go Dawgs.

Munson in Nashville

You may or may not know that Larry Munson was the play-by-play announcer for Vanderbilt University for many years before moving to Georgia. In fact, even after moving to Athens, he continued to do a fishing show from Nashville for many years.

You may also not know that there are some very strong UGA connections in Nashville broadcasting like this one and this one.

The second of those connections recently interviewed Larry for a weekly sports show that plays here in Nashville. It was a 45-minute interview - the longest interview I have ever seen with Larry. It was absolutely stellar, and one of the most interesting UGA-related interviews that I remember. How cool to sit in Nashville and see that, especially immediately following the events of the last two weeks.

PS - I haven't decided yet.

Tell Me What to Do

I was supposed to have judged this coming weekend at this event. I learned today (which is unacceptably late by the way) that the event has been cancelled.

Georgia plays Mississippi State in football this weekend, and it is the penultimate home game of this season. Plus, the last performance of the Funkles will be taking place this weekend as well. The logistics of a trip to Athens are more complicated than usual this time.

My parents have rented a cabin in Gatlinburg for the weekend as well, and invited me some time back. I had to turn them down due to my gig, but now I don't have the gig.

So, you tell me what to do. Should I:

A. Go to Athens and find a way to make the logistics work?
B. Go to Gatlinburg, knowing that I will only see one more Georgia game in person this year?
C. Stay in Nashville and not spend money, not drink to excess, not eat like shit, and sleep in my own bed?

Opine, please.

Dress Yourself in Red and Black

I'm back in the land of surprise divorces after an extended game weekend.

Three highlights, beyond the great company, which is a given.

1. Saturday's gameday experience, with the exception of the loss, was as perfect as any I have ever had. I rode into town with R and E from Marietta that morning. This was only the second time that I have made the trek from out of town on a gameday. The first time was my freshman year.

I pregamed the exact right amount, and thus was feeling exceptionally good (yet inside my wits) for kickoff. I got a great ticket (40-or-so-yard line, alumni side, 16 rows up) next to two great old friends. The weather was perfect for a sweatshirt for the first quarter and perfect for a t-shirt after that. I had both. I could see the game and worry about that and nothing else, which I did.

That night, of course, I medicated the loss with dear friends as is documented here. It was awesome.

2. Russ and Tony mention an appearance by David Sedaris, tickets for which Russ was kind enough to provide free of charge. He is one of my favorite writers, and Russ was cool enough to take my copy of one of his books and get it signed at the end of the night. While Russ did this, I went and sat on his couch, drank his whiskey, and hung out with his wife.

At night's end, Russ explained to the author that I had been at the show, but had to leave. Then he asked if he would sign my book. The author's response: "Well, f*@k him for leaving." Then he signed the book as you can see below.



I'm still kinda giggling, but wishing I had been there to hear it... er...

My beaten license plate

I have a Georgia Super G license plate on the front of my SUV. I had a wreck a couple of years ago and severely bent and scratched the plate. With a little help from my brother, we made some basic repairs to it and then put it back on the car. Over time, the replacement paint we used has chipped and a crack has become noticeable.

I am sure there are some people who are bothered by the fact that I haven't replaced one of the symbols of our school with a plate that is in good shape. I have thought more than once about shelling out a few bucks and doing that. It occurs to me frequently, however, that there is a sad reason that some of the shiny, new "G" plates have been cropping up on cars the last few years. I leave my beaten up plate on my car as proof of the fact that I didn't begin liking Georgia just last week, and as a suggestion that I won't be converting to the flavor of the week when fortunes change.

I hate losing, and I really hate losing games that we are expected to win. I get mad when our team and coaches do things with which I disagree, and I sometimes vocalize my disappointment when those things happen (ie - Why do we line up in an I with no wide receivers on third and long?). I often find myself unsatisfied with the answers that our coaching staff gives for our mishaps of late. I am not sure that the personnel we have in place are the ones that give us the best chance to win. I share the confusion that a lot of people have about where we are right now.

However...

None of us is in a position to know what needs to happen right now. If our head coach had misgivings about the service being provided by our defensive coordinator, he wouldn't be telling us about it. He shouldn't be telling us about it. He should be publicly supportive and defend the man who I am quite sure is doing everything he can to correct the problems that have arisen lately. He should publicly make every reasonable excuse for him, and present every reason imaginable that he shouldn't be going anywhere.

And in private he should be managing things the way he knows to manage them. Perhaps there are knock-down-drag-out discussions taking place about the problems that are plaguing us. Perhaps there is a gut feeling in our head coach's stomach that he is going to be forced to make a personnel change at the end of the season. Perhaps he knows that the talent level with which our defensive coordinator is working is unusually low. He certainly can't say so out loud if any of these things are the case. There can be no "Playoffs?"-esque hissy fits or public executions. The only choice he has is to take responsibility for our problems and move on with the season. If he gets to a time and situation in which he decides that he can and should make a change, I am quite sure he will.

I can guarantee two things about our head coach:

1. He wants to win more than any of his critics.
2. He knows more about football than any of his critics.

Those fans who are demanding the heads of coaches in the middle of a rough spot have no understanding of personnel management. Those fans who are proclaiming the end of our season when we are 5-2 are of a disgustingly childish brand of quitter. Those fans who boo our players and coaches are spoiled ingrates.

When we lost to Tennessee in 2004, I thought carefully about what to say to the band. It has been recently brought to my attention that the phrase I gave them was resurrected last week, and I think it bears sharing with anyone who cares about our school and our brand of football. The reminder is, "You're still from Georgia, and they're still not."

No one enjoys losing. But the ones who are genuinely Georgia People are also the ones who are capable of putting a loss or a disappointing season in the context of the wonderful blessed totality of being a Georgia Person. And the ones who are screaming and crying are posers and johnny-come-lately's who I'll bet have shiny new "G" plates on their cars.

And I'll furthermore bet that they been tempted by that flat-head screwdriver since the minute they got home last night.

Niiiiiiice

Tonight's trip from Nashville to Marietta, which would normally take 3.5 hours, took 5 hours 15 minutes. The Tennessee Department of Transportation is as potent as me in bed with a bearded lady at the end of a two week Jack bender.

There is lots on my mind. But…

• I don’t know that any of it is worthy of one big entry, and…
• I don’t feel like using bullets.

So, I’m going to pretend that each of you just asked me, “What’s up?” and that we already got through the pleasantries and into the meat of the conversation.

Oh! I’m going to Georgia tomorrow. The plans include poker on Thursday, drinks with an old friend on Friday, Homecoming game and more football on Saturday, a meeting and a cool show on Sunday, and a return trip here on Monday. The only thing that bums me about this trip is that I won’t be spending much time in Athens or at Homecoming. I think it’s the best thing right now though. There is enough going on in Athens without me showing up drunk at the wrong place and wrong time. On a lighter note, however, my drink of choice this weekend will be Jack and Dr. Pepper. I haven’t had this in a long time.

Next, I will pretend that you asked me, “Well, what’s been going on?” and that I already said the obligatory, “Oh, not much,” thought about it, and then began to speak.

Last Saturday I judged a show here in Nashville. I completely missed the game, though I sorta look like the smart one in hindsight, huh? I heard some good bands and, um, developed some new professional relationships. I also had some gin after the show, and I wasn’t mean at all.

This week I did more of the whole ballroom dancing thing. I think I may be able to retain most of my cynicism while still learning how to do this. I'm sure it can only be good for me. I’m also sure that in two months I will feel very dirty about this whole thing.

I also watched The Godfather (amazing) and Cold Mountain (really… some people think Southerners sound like that?).

Lastly, I will pretend that you asked me, “What’s been on your mind?” and that I have already said, “You know. The usual,” and then gotten to the point.

Well, you know the news bums me out, and that the potential for negative events really bums me out. This obviously hasn’t been a great week for someone who doesn’t care for negativity.

I have been reading a little bit of Vonnegut lately, thanks to Trina. The author and I really don’t share beliefs or ways of thinking about things, but I think it’s usually healthy to consider more ways of thinking about things than one’s own. There is a moment in this book that makes sense to me when I get pissed or depressed about the state of the world. It sounds a little fatalist, but I don’t think that’s the intent. It certainly isn’t the way I choose to believe it:

As a younger man, Trout would have sneered at the sign about brotherhood – posted on the rim of a bomb crater, as anyone could see. But his head no longer sheltered ideas of how things could be and should be on the planet, as opposed to how they really were. There was only one way for the Earth to be, he thought: the way it was.

Everything was necessary. He saw an old white woman fishing through a garbage can. That was necessary. He saw a bathtub toy, a little rubber duck, lying on its side on the grating over a storm sewer. It had to be there.

And so on. – Kurt Vonnegut, Breakfast of Champions

I suppose it’s not that you shouldn’t try to make things right. It’s just that I think you have to deal with what things are before you attempt to do anything about them.

Perhaps another way of saying that is that – no matter how hard one might try to make it so - the future is not a version of the past.

Sorry for the depth or the bullshit – whichever one you think it is.

You tell 'em, Sonny.

Just damn.

I never do this, and I know no one will see this before the game. But I think if we score 17, we win (knocks on wood).

Can you tell I'm nervous? Ow, my stomach. Ow. Ow.

You should most definitely not be dancing

Four things:

• I wrote this ginormous entry about the subject matter of bullet #2. I read it, and hated it. So I deleted 98% of it, and now offer the muts and dolts.

• I was dragged kicking and screaming to a ballroom dance class tonight. You may know that there are two reasons that I don't dance. The first is that it is impossible to simultaneously dance and be cynical, and I value my cynicism very highly. The second is that I think dancing is stupid. Nevertheless, I had a moderately enjoyable time and will probably go back. Tomorrow.

It's still stupid though.

• Today in the shower, I was thinking about how some people I know might describe themselves as they think others see them in one sentence. I decided that my sentence might be He is, on one hand, perhaps the most cynical and troubled person I know; and on the other, he is alarmingly normal. Just my take.

Short football post...

Guys, (I sound like Trimmer!!!) I am worried about us this weekend. It isn't really even Tennessee that's worrying me. They are beatable.

I don't like feeling like our heads are down. I don't like the unusually vitrolic conflict on the message boards. I don't like that our team doesn't seem to have "a face" five games into the season.

And mostly, I don't like missing the expletive Tennessee game to make a measly $300 but I need to do it. I think the crowd is the difference in this game, and in fact could create a turning point for this team.

If you're going to be there, promise me you'll do something about it?

A cousin of Mr. Dumas

Check out the name of the county clerk.

Gin makes me mean.

I have added yet another link to your right, my left. Adam H. (who is on his way to Nashville right now) has begun a blog, and has written consistently since doing so. That's how you start a blog, damnit.

Actually, it's also how you maintain one... in theory.

"What? Friends listen to 'Endless Love' in the dark!?"

So here’s how bad I am at the whole dating, knowing, flirting thing.

My great uncle J.T. died earlier this week (possible entry coming on this later) here in Nashville. The funeral was today, and my mother came into town. I had the added joy of jumping through the hoops necessary to renew my vehicle registration. Between the red tape, the preaching, and the heartblessing, I was unable to get to the gym at my normal time (2:30 PM CT).

One particularly cool feature of the gym of which I am a member is “Cardio Theater.” I’m not referring to the brand name of the television screens present in front of some cardio machines. I’m talking about a dark room, with just a touch of red light, with a movie screen and high quality sound system. It’s terraced, with different forms of cardio equipment on each tier. It is very similar to a real movie theatah.

Just outside of the Cardio Theater is the schedule of the movies that will be running each day. As I went in tonight, I was verrry tickled to see that tonight’s feature would be “Happy Gilmore,” starring Adam Sandler, Christopher McDonald, Julie Bowen, and Carl Weathers (for the record… I might be a total pus, but I miss Carol Vessey). I smiled, joined the maybe two other people who were already in the room, mounted (he, he) the chosen piece of equipment for the night, and began to exercise my cardiovasculus.

Some two minutes into tonight’s activity, a woman approached the cardio theater from the outside. She peeked in through the glass door with an obvious curiosity, noted the name of the film on the wall, and entered the room. I could tell, from what little light was present, that she had the capacity to be attractive.

You probably know what I mean.

One supposes that you can never be too careful when determining a person’s level of physical attraction in a fairly dark room, and that to me is enough reason not to try too hard. My rule of thumb is, “I don’t date shadows.” Come to think of it, I don’t really date people either. Nevertheless, I generally will ask myself whether or not a woman who is new to me is attractive or not. In this case, the answer was, “Well, she has an attractive shadow.”

And then I stopped thinking about it and got on with the borophyl… er, the movie.

Aaaaaaaaanyway. She took two steps into the virtually empty room and stopped to survey the area. She chose the same type of equipment I was using, but began with the first one she encountered as she entered. She approached the machine, looked at it, looked around again, and then started walking.

You already know what happened. She skipped five machines and then mounted (he he) the machine next to the one on which I was already laboring. I thought that was odd.

Odd.

She began her exercise. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed her turn her head and look at me. In fact, she looked at me for what felt like a week. It was actually about fifteen seconds. Then, she turned her head back to the movie and began to watch. It seemed unusual to me that she sat there and stared for so long.

Unusual. I would never do that. Not sober anyway.

It was at about this time that Kevin Nealon goes into his bit about “it” being “circular.” She laughed out loud. Sounded kinda forced. Then she did it again. And then she proceeded to continue to laugh out loud at every funny thing that happened for the next thirty minutes or so, looking briefly at me every five minutes or so.

She finished her exercise before I did. She proceeded to stretch in the theater, then went out to the weight room to do some legs.

I followed five minutes later, stretched, and walked past her on the way to another area. Curious, I looked at her face as I passed by. She had this blank “I have Big Slick and don’t want to show it” look on her face (which was uniquely attractive, by the way) as she looked back.

And I didn’t even smile.

I just kept walking, thinking nothing of it. I did the rest of my work pretty quickly, and then walked back toward the front door. I waved good bye to the front desk attendant, opened my car door, and sat down.

And then I started thinking about it. “Hang on. An attractive girl is alone in a gym that caters to young professionals at 7:45 PM on a perfect early autumn Friday night, and then she…”

And then I beat my head against my steering wheel numerous times.

Clueless... I think?

Damnit, Cprolina. You almost had 'em. At least this guy didn't lose to Spurrier.

My Permanent Accessory

I started writing down every single thing that I could remember about this past weekend. As I got into it, I realized how thoroughly embarassed I am. So I'm not going into great detail. If you weren't around for it though, all you need to know is that my little tailgating experience spun out of control due to some immaturity on my part. I'm quite sure that I dissappointed some people in the process, but I hope not.

Obligatory "What the Hell Are You Doing" Entry

I am somewhat devoid of thought right now. But because the internet exists, and blogs exist, and blog-readers exist, and somehow I still exist, it is incumbent upon me to write something on my little piece of internet real estate. I think it's going to be an update entry combined with random time, which I absolutely hate. But I don't have anything interesting to say about life, death, love, college football, music, failed athletic marketing campaigns, moving, momma, trains, prison, or gettin' drunk. So here you go.

This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but with bullets.

• You may have guessed from the smell or the background noise that I am in Athens at Walker's for the second week in a row. I often think Walker's loses money on me, because I sit and plug in and use their kilowatts, while only paying a total of $3 for two cups of coffee.

Then I think of the multiple ocassions on which Trina and I have run $80 bar tabs here, and I realize that they are making money on me.

• I played poker with Galarza and Russ last night. It was my worst finish ever in freeroll poker at a bar. That's really not saying much since it was only my third time, but it's much more dramatic to say it was the worst ever.

• Based on the noises my Explorer has been making, I'm afraid I'm going to have to purchase a new vehicle before the end of the year. As I look at cars on the road, however, I can only find two models that I like. This is not good.

• Is an older woman a good idea? Like 38, not like 70.

• Often when people say, "There's just no substitute for" something, they are incorrect.

• The practice of assigning the name "martini" to any liquor drink in a martini glass pisses me off. It didn't bother me, however, before I started drinking martinis.

• I worry that I might one day act like I drink martinis.

• It's official. I will be missing the Tennessee and Miss. St games. And, I will not be able to watch the Kentucky game.

• I think the homeless problem in Athens is really getting out of hand.

• Some people do freckles well. Other people don't. The girl that just walked into Walker's does.

That's it. I'm spent. Got nothin'.

This is absolutely brilliant. The Larry Munson Drinking Game, courtesy of the Georgia Sports Blog.

I sat through two major wrecks on the way back to Nashville today. A trip that should have taken three hours and thirty minutes instead took six hours and forty-five minutes. Right now is not the time to ask me if I'm happy with my long distance service.

Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes

On Thursday, I bolted out of Nashville a little earlier than planned just to get a few extra hours of socialization into my first almost-autumn jaunt to Georgia. After a few drinks and laughs with the Sarvays, I crashed.

I made it to Athens around noon on Friday. I then got to do one of my favorite things. I sat in Walkers for four hours and finished a mid-season arrangement for Knight. I made it to band ten minutes late and enjoyed catching up with several people I hadn't seen in years. Afterwards, I hung out with Cub and Trina before retiring at a time that seems awfully un-Athens like.

Saturday morning, I was thirty minutes late to band. I ran into Tom Wa||ace in the parking lot, who "had my back" when I moved to Nashville hoping to get some work for a major arranging house in Nashville. I naturally haven't gotten any work from this place, so the conversation gradually moved from tentative to relaxed.

I saw the band and then spent about 45 minutes tailgating in the parking lot. It was amazing to me how old friendhsips that hadn't been touched up in a long time were back to normal - or more accurately, not normal but very good - in no time flat. It occurred to me in the middle of all of this that there actually might be more to game day than the band... or the game. I think I will explore this possibility in the future (I think I'm going to use a ticket - yes, a ticket - for this week's game. I have never done that before.).

Saw the game. I thought the band was fine... certainly better than I had expected, but with a few weak points that you might expect out of a young group. And yeah, there were some other weak points that weren't the result of youth. I am somewhat optimistic about the future of the group, assuming that the future goes the way I think it's going to. It's more complicated and personal than I choose to blog.

The game was probably as good as I could have expected. Good game. Way too much marketing (which probably won't change). "I'm Georgia" is stupid.

Post game, Trina and friends joined me for TN-FL. Boo. This was followed by yet another unreasonably reasonable bed time.

I'm now in Marietta after another fun evening with the Sarvays. Lunch with Sarah is soon, followed by a trip to the Gwinne++ Exhibition, then Nashville for two days.

In other news, I have recently learned that I will have to miss the Tennessee game. Damnit.

Oh... and this trip has really made me want to be able to buy a second place in Athens (after, of course, I buy a first place in Nashville). Guess I better do something about that, huh?

[insert enthusiastic yet non-orgasmic exclamation here]

You know... less like "Oh!" and more like "Duuude."

On a whim, I wandered to the cereal aisle at my local Nashville Pub|ix. I knew they wouldn't, but I just needed to see.

They did.


This is even better than Spiderman Dr. Pepper.

That this exists is cool enough. That it is the only type of Wheaties you can buy at a grocery store in the Western Provinces of Big Orange Country almost makes up for "I'm Ge0rgia." Almost.

For what it's worth, "I'm Ge0rgia" is the athletic equivalent of the dummmmmb idea in '93 for the band to dismiss by saying "UGA!" Ge0rgia Bulldog Wheaties, on the other hand, are superhappyfun.


"I've got this great idea. Why don't we pitch it to the Franklin F%@kin' Mint." - Ben Folds

We've got spirit
Yes, we do
We've got spirit
How 'bout you?

"Cock" is the loneliest number

I have no idea what that means.

If you have already seen BlogPong's blog, you know that he and GeorgiaGirl made it up for the weekend. In addition to the Angie show and the Martinez show, Ln and I participated in a little 5k downtown while Russ was at the bar pregaming and thinking of new things to hump.

In other news, I feel like living in Athens right now. I'm not going to move, but I'm one of those phases when I want to be anywhere but here. It will pass, especially after I visit next week. It has to.

Damn Good Dawg.

%$#@ is the worst word that you can say. No, you shouldn't say %$#@. No, you shouldn't say %$#@ - %$#@, no!

I have spent a significant portion of the day doing paperwork. I hate paperwork. I hate paperwork so much that would marry a woman I didn’t love if she could and would do my paperwork. I hate paperwork so much that I wouldn’t be embarrassed to throw a repetitive childlike internet temper tantrum. I hate hate hate hate hate hate hate HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE paperwork. And I don’t want to do it.

So there.

Aaaaaanyway. On a completely unrelated, yet somehow un-bulleted, topic, I was thinking today about how I converse. I decided to make a list of things that someone can say that make me want to disengage immediately from a conversation. I have mentioned some of these before, but that’s life, Billy. When I have a particular response that I would theoretically offer or when something bears explanation, I will include it in italics (which I have always thought, by the way, should be spelled “italix”). When I have a response that I don’t feel like providing, I will include it in invisible text.

For the record, some readers have definitely used these with me before. Don’t worry about it, and don’t wince the next time you do. It just is.

Here we (really me, but play along) go:

- “You know Brett, you and I are a lot alike.”
Me in theory: “Really? Well, I guess that means that I probably already know what you’re about to say. So don’t.”

- “Well, first of all, let me say that I think your song is great, but…”
Me in theory: “No, you don’t. It could be 'ok, but.' It could be 'good, but.' There is no such thing as 'great, but.'" I made up the phrase, but I learned the lesson the hard way from a student I was teaching over ten years ago who said, “as soon as you say ‘but,’ I already know it was bad.” I don’t think I have done that since without intending for the person to whom I was speaking to know that it really wasn’t very good.

- “Brett, I think you’re a great guy.”
Me in theory: “Check, please… and one for the road.”

- “When you enter…..”
Some of you can name the speaker. Think “Alabama.” Think “red nose.” Think “vicariously,” “vitriolic at best, horrendous at worst.” Think the same old intro for half of the band videos you ever sar.

- [I pick up phone. I answer. Twice. I then hear a click and the caller speaks.] “Mr. Bowcome? Yes, Mr. Baughcum. I am calling to…”
Thanks to our congress which wrote a bill that worked for all of two years.

- “What are you eating under there?”

- [insert text before in which speaker tells me something that doesn’t really affect me, speaker takes a quick breath, continues]”… because…” [speaker continues with more drivel, which incidentally is not a type of tool].

- “Today on the 700 Club, they…”
Don’t.

- “So, what’s up with the DOB job at Ge0rgia?”
No offense. Ask when you want to know, but it puts me on auto-pilot. I’ve only been answering the question for 3.5 years. Poor Trina.

And the big winner these days….

- “So, have you sold any songs yet?”
I am too tired of it to explain.

Bender? I don't even...

Oh what to say…

• Not being in Athens this past Saturday felt more normal than ever, and still profoundly weird. You would think that would have gone away by now, and I am starting to wonder if it ever does. On the other hand, from some of the things I am hearing about the gameday experience, I am worried that I will be disappointed to the point of heartbreak when I do get there for UAB.

• I did however miss those of you with whom I normally would have shared a gameday. Badly.

• I went out quite a bit this weekend, and I broke my streak of good behavior in some areas (no I didn’t smoke). When I got back into the gym today, I was in total misery. Then it occurred to me that I was probably feeling the way I did when I wasn’t taking care of myself at all. I hate that I was that miserable for that long.

• I am very excited to seeing BlogPong and GeorgiaGirl this weekend. We have some pretty cool plans.

• I don’t think we learned much of anything from the game on Saturday. Just more questions.

An overly romantic and pseudo-intellectual observation of why I love college football

I’m not sure that the profundity of this entry will be as significant as its length, but I feel like chatting.

In some forty hours and change from the time of this writing, the first kickoff of the latest installment of what I believe is the Great American Tradition will take place. I intentionally decline to use the word “pastime” as I think that word is entirely inappropriate for an activity that does far more than give us a way to excuse minutes and hours. To those who care – and in my part of the world, that means “to everyone” – college football shares a position very near the center of life, and very near the top of the list of “important things.” In my part of the world, that list looks something like this:

1. God (optional, but strongly encouraged)
2. Family (optional, but a good idea)
3. Country (optional, but anything else will get your ass kicked)
4. Georgia Bulldogs

I have heard it said before that spirituality is a belief in something, and that religion is a belief in a belief. In terms of college football, I don’t mind saying that I am more or less a religious nut – a card-carrying, blindly loyal, “ohm”-ing, KoolAid drinking member of the cult with secret aspirations to one day be sergeant-at-arms. But why I am that way has changed with age, and – for better or worse – becomes more intense with each passing year.

Like many of you, I was raised on college football. I thought for many years as a kid that I understood the religion. I knew that the young men who were playing the game were generally not playing for money. They had real desire to win, and usually played as such.

I knew of the old stadiums, older stories of late game heroism, rituals of pageantry and superstition, and legacies that were honored by sons of sons of players who wore leather helmets and rode trains to the bowl game (back when there was only one). There are very interesting stories of tradition and family at almost every school.

I knew a few of the quirks that lent a uniqueness to many of the universities where football was played. There were the schools with weird mascots (A nut? A tree? What's a wahoo?), one school with three mascots, the school that Jesus himself believed in, the college that had the old coach with the thick glasses (and that was a long time ago!), the school whose name started with “M” but had a “U” on it’s helmet, the houndstooth hat, some school that always touched a rock, and a dog that sure seemed lazy to me (Now I think he's "regal.").

The authenticity, traditions, and unique character of college football are the attractions for many who love the game. They were for me as well, and were a big reason that I preferred college football to any other sport to which I paid attention when I was rather young.

As I sat as a freshman on my first day in the marching band, I remember that understanding beginning to change. I remember the chant of the Georgia fans in Williams-Brice Stadium one week later, sarcastically welcoming South Carolina to the conference at the end of the game: “SEC!! SEC!!” I remember trying to figure out if it was okay for me to say that yet, since it was my first game as a Bulldog. I eventually did, and it felt pretty damn good to be a part of it.

That was 1992. On subsequent Saturdays in that and subsequent years, I would buy into my school a bit more. As the stadium began to feel like home turf, I began to use the word “we” when discussing the football fortunes of my school. I would allow a loss on Saturday to ruin the following Sunday and Monday. I would begin to become distracted from all of the other matters of the world for five months out of the year, because football season at the University of Georgia had something to do with me. I began to feel that I owned a little piece of the tradition and a big piece of the future of that program, and it brought my understanding of the religion to a new level. A Georgia victory was a personal victory, and a Georgia defeat was a personal defeat of the worst type. I had ownership.

Eventually, I would become more involved in the activities of a Saturday than I had ever anticipated that I would. Though I will skip the details for a degree of privacy (though if you don’t know and you look back far enough, you can figure out what I’m talking about), my livelihood eventually came from Georgia football. Needless to say, the ownership I had as a student was only amplified. Not only was I attracted to the game as a sport, engaged by the substance of the game and its contributors, and tied to the activity by a personal feeling of possession; my every waking hour was now significantly affected by the results of a Saturday. I had gone from one who respected the religion, to a curious visitor, to a parishioner, to a priest.

As you may know, I eventually decided that there were other matters in my life that needed attention. I left the situation on excellent terms and moved away from Athens. But I have never left the faith.

I sat tonight contemplating what it is that drives that religion now. While some of the old factors remain, things have changed (the greatest tradition of all!). Though I do still think about Georgia football much of the time, it most certainly doesn’t dominate my life the way that it once did. Yet, my deference to it seems not to have weakened at all.

When I think about why that is the case, I come up with a few answers. But there are two reasons that I think will last until I can’t get out of bed anymore.

One is that those fall Saturdays are wonderful temporal landmarks – events which we can correlate with a memory of who we were at one point in time. Perhaps a better way to say that would be to say that, at some point, gamedays become sort of mile markers for our lives.

This Saturday, I believe Farrie B still will be pregnant with her second child. Many years from now, she will remember the day in that context – largely because she can’t drink, but she will remember it nevertheless. I remember Marshall ’04 because I had ruined one of the best friendships I had ever had the night before. I remember Auburn ’01 because it was the night when Dwight went off on the band, and it was starting to become apparent that something was going on (the next 13 months would completely suck). I remember Florida ’99 because of whose ass I tried to cover the night before. I remember Auburn ‘95, because I had my head buzzed the week before (and it was windy and cold for a bald boy).

This Saturday, old friends will meet each other’s children for the first time. This Saturday, someone will be praised for how much weight they have lost since last fall, or talked about behind their back for how much they have put on. Someone will show up to this Saturday’s game and will see people he loves and trusts for the first time since the divorce. Someone will have tripled her net worth since last fall. Someone will have to break the news that, “Daddy isn’t doing well and doesn’t have very long.” Someone will arrive in Athens this Saturday, and his friends will meet his girlfriend for the first time. Afterward, they’ll say, “I’ve never seen him that happy.” This Saturday, someone will go to their first college football game ever. Someone else will go to their last.

The second reason for this religion's stickiness brings two borrowed thoughts to mind. The first is paraphrased from a Bulldog whom I can’t identify. He basically said that Saturdays were less about football and more about “our way of doing things versus their way of doing things.” The second comes from Tom Jacks0n speaking to the band last November. He explained, “Being a part of a great institution is one of the most important things we can do in life because institutions outlive us.”

As much as we love to stress the importance of individual achievement, independence, and self-reliance, those of us who are happiest are those who belong to something that requires and returns a bit more than the Columbia Record Club or the body of holders of the Kroger Plus Card. When we have a stake in something and we are near other people who have similar stakes in the same thing, I think we become a less significant part of a greater thing. Whether you think this is cool because it feels good or you realize that this is like the “self-transcendence” at the top of Masl0w’s Hier@rchy of Needs, it is a beautiful phenomenon that goes beyond the need to “belong” somewhere. You fulfill the need of working and feeling as part of a “we” rather than as an “I.”

You may think I’m taking this too far, and I frankly don’t care. It makes no sense to me that this activity would engender this level of loyalty – especially considering how frequently it takes away from those who love it! – on the basis of sport alone. It’s more than a game, and it will be as long as the stewards of institutions realize that it is more than a game and foster its contributions to the lives of those who participate. This contribution, of course, is the true mission of universities. Right?

...........

On the other hand, there are few things I love better than watching a safety hit a ball carrier, watching the ball carrier stand up and shake it off, taking a sip of my Jack and Dr. Pepper, and saying “Dude!” It’s just much cooler when there is someone else sitting next to me sipping their drink who says and means, “I know!”

VI

Not much to say. Just finished Br00kwood's drill. I find myself getting excited about football season, then being dragged back to Earth by a news report about Iran.

However, you can't help but feel good when listening and watching this. Oh for a life that was that simple again.


Six. Six like a touchdown, not six like Blossom's friend.

Coming this February...

from Cadbury/Schweppes, the most geniune expression of affection ever found in retail stores... the Jim Cox Valentine's Conversation Hearts.

For the record, I have, like, never thought that Pluto was a planet.

So I decided...

this weekend, based on the thoughts leading up to my last entry, that it was probably time for me to go do some stuff - anything to get out of the house and experience something other than work and the continuation of habits. I'm glad I did.

• If you like smart, funny movies, I think you will love Little Miss Sunshine. It's ridiculously well written, the whole cast is great, and Alan Arkin made me piss in my pants. I laughed out loud over ten times in the course of this film, and that has to be a record for anything I have seen post-Dwight.

• I went to the local art museum on Saturday to see an exhibit of Pulitzer Prize-winning photographs. One of them was the most depressing picture I have ever seen. I am glad I saw it, but it brought me as close to becoming physically ill over a photo as I have ever been. See it here (go ahead, it's not graphic per se), and make sure to read the story that surrounds and follows it.

When we're not at our best, this can be a sick fucking world.

• Speaking of sick fucking world, look at what hit myspace over the weekend.

What's left of the Long, Pensive Entry

Ehhh… I’m pulling the emergency-stop cord on the long, pensive entry. As I wrote it (4 days worth!) I realized that I only needed to write it so I could figure out, um, where I am, er, whatever. Once I wrote it, I realized that it completely sucks to read, not to mention that there are people in the world who make $100 per hour to listen to people say stuff like that. I don’t have that kind of money.

So instead I’ll summarize life of late (there might be an entry coming about the term “of late,” and other phrases used by sportscasters that sound one degree beyond their educational level). After the Bowling Green thing came, then went, then came, then went, I had that very common drive to cure immediately my every personal ill. You know the feeling. Something bad happens. You decide it must be your fault. You get abnormally motivated and say to yourself, “That’s IT!!!!” You promise yourself that things are going to change immediately and you make grandiose plans for improvement of your life, convinced that you can go to the gym for thirty minutes and double your bench press, intelligence, penis size (well, those of you who have one get this I suppose), personal savings, and social charm.

I even remember expressing that twitch a couple of times. I also recall telling Blog This that I thought I might crawl into a hole.

At some point, I calmed down, but still somehow more or less crawled into a hole. Intentionally or not, I isolated myself and kinda started doing things I thought I should be doing every day. Some great habits emerged, some bad ones withered away, and both happened for all the right reasons. Somehow I have managed to maintain this for way longer than I have before (for example, today is Day 49 away from nicotine). This is good.

There are two verrrrry mild negative side effects of this. One is that I don’t have much of a social life right now (my own doing). In fact, I almost started making phone calls this afternoon to see how many of you I could get to Nashville this weekend. But I thought better of it because it would be inconsiderate (I know some of you would have gone out of your way to do so), and because I think being alone a little longer is probably a good thing.

The second is that I am as emotionally neutral as I ever remember being. It’s a little scary to think about, since that wouldn't seem to be compatible with my desired occupation (“I Guess Everything’s Okay” wouldn’t be much of a song title… there’s another future entry). But it’s not that scary. I don’t think one must be excessively excited or depressed to put emotion into songs. In fact it might help one to be neither.

So anyway, I guess that’s part of why I’m not saying that much these days. I think it’s temporary, and I’m sure it’s good. In fact, just writing down what I thought was going on seems to have revealed that I have more to say than I thought I did. So much for pulling the cord on the long, pensive entry. But I thought you would like to know.

I write now only to avoid being missed or visited by the Blog Police. I have actually been spending some time on the "long, pensive" entry I mentioned on Sunday. It is taking me quite some time to say exactly what I want to say, so I'm going slow.

Really, it's not you; it's me.

In the mean time, a couple of thoughts.

• The J0nBenet thing smells. I don't think this is as near finished as many would have you believe.
• Is the fascination with her murder the fact that it was a cute little girl, that her parents seemed cold, that the police fouled up the investigation, or that the family was rich? I don't understand.
• I don't know if people are enjoying this commercial or not, but it makes me laugh out loud.

... the world... that's right.

• It's looking like it's going to be a four or five-game home football season for me this year. Kinda sad. Nevertheless, I need football to be here now. Now that I am away from it, it is depressingly evident to me that life simply is not the same when it isn't football season.
• I have been getting Googled a lot lately (and no....). I can't begin to guess why.

I think most people are probably aware of the practice of saying the words "in bed" after reading a fortune from a fortune cookie. I always thought this was silly, especially when one found lottery numbers inside ("what a winning hand....").

Nevertheless, I have realized that I have been doing something similar when talking to myself of late. You can try it too if you like. All you have to do is follow anything you say with the phrase "and no, that is not a euphemism for something." Examples might include the following:

- "I'm going to check the mail, and no, that is not a euphemism for something."
- "I'm going to take the kitty to the vet, and no, that is not a euphemism for something."
- "I'm going to go masturbate, and no, that is not a euphemism for something."

Aaaaaaaaaanyway. I'm going to my grandmother's house this afternoon for a few hours with the family. Then I feel a long, pensive, Yeah-I-started-reading-it-but-I-didn't-get-all-the-way-through-it kind of entry coming on.

And no....

A little fondness

Someone just called from the band room for the express purpose of letting me hear the freshmen play Glory (and more of the Bulld0g March Medley). No tear or lump in the throat, but I do miss that part pretty badly.

It's been a while since I had a coherent thought for a non-bulleted entry...

... and that drought will not end tonight.

• Now who told me to put Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle on my Netflix queue again?

• A second Atlantan named Hank in 50 years does something important. Good on you.

• Scary to think, but I may be at four or less games this fall.

• Gunner called today. It was great to hear the voice, and it made me realize how rarely I talk to people right now. He seems happy but misses everyone (Wow, genius. Didn't see that coming.)

• I am fairly bummed about living in this apartment for another year and not really making as much money as I would like to. But then I think about it, and realize that if I didn't have to live some place that I don't really care for, then I will have no stories when I am old and have nothing but stories left.

• The tv was on in the background today and I heard someone whine, "Life isn't worth living if you don't have someone to share it with." I cursed aloud at the television. What a stupid thing to say for multiple reasons, especially on tv.

• Kit, Stacy, Russ, and Chris: Wish I was there.

• DCI Quarters, Thursday evening at 6PM Eastern at your local cinema. Get your tickets here.

• Somebody give me a Hoo-ha Two Times Tuesday!!!!!!!

Oh my God.

No contest here, but supply a caption if you wish.

Back from camp. Show will be good. Tired and going to sleep.

• Click here (you will have to click a second time on the next page... privacy and all) if you would like to watch a live webcast of the camp I'm teaching (good only from 8:30am-12n and 6:30p-9:00p EDT).

• My kingdom - and I mean all of it - for correct hash marks.

• I've been reading this book lately. It occurs to me that when discussing the problems of the American work force, one may rightly choose to complain about an insufficient minimum wage or excessive outsourcing - but not both.

Go on with the chlorophyll!!!!

• I’ve been writing drill and watching (well, listening to the television broadcast of) the Braves at the same time. Chip C@ray has got to stop referring to a ball hit off of the inner part of the bat as being “fisted.” It just has to stop.

• I am worried that I will either piss someone off or make several people feel ignorant by pointing this out, but I just have to say it because Chip made me think of it. I’m certainly no where near purfect when it comes to spelling, grammar, and proper use of phrases. But this one is bugging the living shit out of me, and several people in many different media and formats misuse this phrase.
The phrase “begs the question” really doesn’t mean “brings about the question.” Unfortunately, it’s been so misused that it has almost become acceptable. The original meaning is much cooler.

Sorry if I sound like a snob. It just really gets on my nerves, which shouldn’t necessarily compel anyone to stop using it that way if they want.

• I have recently been realizing (or thinking that I am realizing) how incredibly short life is.* I don’t know why, it’s just been on my mind. It’s not really depressing or anything, but it does sort of reinforce the idea of one’s own insignificance. In a way, I guess that’s sort of freeing, much like the way Gunner and Trey once reminded me of how much bigger the world is than I thought it was at the time. Not trying to be profound, it's just what I'm thinking about.

By the way, I have mentioned before how some certain types of commercial music freak me out. And I now realize that's what it is. I don't know why it has the effect it has, but that music makes me think "Wow, life is short."

I don't expect anyone to get that. It makes absolutely no sense.

• Maybe it’s part of the same thing, but I’ve also been thinking about some of the really crazy or stupid things that I’ve done in my past. I think about them from the perspective of now and it feels like I would be incapable of doing things that are that misguided again. But I would imagine that that’s not true.

I guess my point is that it can be interesting to look back at a younger version of yourself and perhaps realize that the only thing you have in common with that person is DNA. I seem to feel that way about who I was as recently as seven months ago.

• I’m heading to Georgia then South Carolina to teach a show. And I’m hoping for a gin and tonic and a game of poker on the way.

P.S. - By the way, if:

1.You've never been unfortunate enough to hear me explain why time seems to move faster as you get older...
2. You haven't figured it out on your own, and
3. You have enough free space in your brain to care and want to know...

...then email me. I'm not putting everyone through it again, but for some reason I like to talk about it.

"Sometimes you've gotta throw your hands into the aiiiiirrrrrrrr......."

The first five-expletiving-million times I saw/heard this, I was quite certain that it was a sign of the Apocalypse. It was just too weird, too repetitive... just kinda had that "Yup, must be the End of Days" sorta feeling. When I thought things were going well with Bowling Green, it further alarmed me that we were in for it. Once she called things off and I realized that this apparently wasn't real, I realized that the world wasn't ending after all.

So don't worry about this Lebanon-Israeli conflict, at least in terms of the likelihood of its leading to the destruction of Earth. Everything seems normal.

But if the commercial intrigues you, you can read some commentary about it here.

It is a little bit surreal that this is here. If you don't know, this was the first CD project that I ever edited by myself (well, with the exception of one track). It took me two summers and I am pretty proud of it, even though the only way you would know I had anything to do would be for me to tell you. I did it, and I have the liquor store receipts to prove it.

Edit: I have changed some of the above language to avoid... well, I just changed it. - B

I think this is one of the best statements about the Dixie Chicks situation that I have ever seen. I don't perceive that it leans one way or the other, and I think it captures the essence of why this situation sucks:

Though the politically minded lines drew the strongest applause, the Chicks' finest moments in Detroit came when Maines and her cohorts allowed fragility to creep into the equation. Another Griffin tune, "Top of the World," proved a heartbreaker, with Maines' voice conveying significant depth of emotion as she sang, "There's a whole lot of singing never gonna be heard/ Disappearing every day without so much as a word."

And that, in a nutshell, is the tragedy of the Dixie Chicks. Maines' sings her behind off, Maguire is a tremendous vocalist and instrumentalist and Robison's instrumental prowess and harmony vocals provide the pillow on which everything else rests. The new band of supporting musicians is a remarkable unit, full of stomp and swagger and twang. And yet the Dixie Chicks have become a nonentity, a target or a thorn to those who disagree with their politics.

In Detroit, the politics fell away and the songs reigned supreme. And during the show, it felt just like great music. And after the show, when the questions and context returned, it felt like a shame. There's a whole lot of singing here that should be heard. They heard it in Detroit, and they cheered wildly. In Nashville, we're still shouting too loudly to listen. - Peter Cooper, The Tennesseean - July 22, 2006

"While the music played you worked by candlelight"

The power is out at my home, and I have two immediate needs:

1. Internet.



Thusly I am sitting for a moment in my Explorer stealing internet from a local hotel. I will have to quit shortly, as I have to write drill tonight and I have four hours of power left on this thing. There is not a lot of hope that the power will be on any time soon.

2. Food. That's next.

I am alarmed at how unprepared I am for something as simple as a power outage of a few hours. I should fix this.

She didn't remember him

Two things:

1. As promised, the best interpretation of the second song from my post of two days ago is in the title of this entry. The answer to the first was "You're never going to tamper with me." The answer to the second was that she did not remember her husband. When he was wheeled into her room, she thought she was meeting the love of her life for the first time. Agree? Disagree?

It's nice to think that things like that might actually happen. I don't think they do, but it's nice to think they do.

2. I'm well into drill hell. I am bad enough at this part of the gig and hate it badly enough that I will not write again after this year if I don't have to.

Remember last year when these people won three national titles? I just got a phone call and they just repeated the first of those three.

1) Update and 2) Something that involves your time and thought

This is the update portion. You should be able to read and fully comprehend in 1-2 minutes.

I was going to write this really big to-do celebrating the fact that I have lived here for one year (which is 364.5 days longer than G@rth Br00ks lasted the first time he moved to town… and no, I’m not kidding). I’m just getting tired of some of my attempts to be profound or pat myself on the back. I don’t know. Maybe I’m getting tired of blogging, maybe I’ve become cynical. Whatever.

The bottom line is I can now find my way to the movie theater without getting lost. I know the back way to the row. When someone says “The Gu1ch” I know where they’re talking about. Yeah, I’ve stuck it out and that’s fine and good. There’s more to life than just showing up, so that’s all I have to say about the subject.

Last night’s, um, show was fine. There was almost no one there, I sounded like I hadn’t played a live show in two years, and everyone was very supportive. It was a really good way to eek may way back into playing out, and I will do it a few more times before I start trying to make a move to anything more involved.

This is the more involved part. You will need 5-15 minutes to really get the benefit of this portion of the entry.

I have suspected something about myself for some time, begun to confirm it recently, and solidified my knowledge last night (at the show and at a workshop I attended right before the show). It is yet another component of what I might call being “slow”… not so much as a euphemism for being mentally or developmentally disabled (though I suppose there is room for debate in that regard), but more in the sense of being “methodical” or “not quick to judge.”

I have long said of myself that I am a person of “horrible initiative and tremendous endurance.” I actually made that up one day to shut Dwight up as he was trying to describe me to me. I’m sure there was some type of whiskey or wine involved in that conversation and that self-description. Nevertheless, I have thought it appropriate since that time. Besides being somewhat accurate, it often calms me down when I realize that a tremendous amount of the citizens of the world jump blindly into situations as I stand at the top of the cliff with my saliva-covered finger in the air, trying to feel which side gets cold.

So, I was listening to songs at a workshop, and the person doing critiques was saying very positive things about the songs he heard. Sometimes, he was going further than simply saying nice things, he was doing something about his opinion that meant he really did feel positively about the song at hand, er, ear. Almost the whole time, I was thinking, “Man, I just don’t hear it. I just don’t.”

Later, I heard a song at the show – a cover of a song from my childhood that has recently been used as music for a commercial. I had recently been drawn to it a little bit, but hearing it live after some twenty-ish years really attracted me to it. It was just one line of lyric and one little continuation of melody at the end of every chorus. It just struck me as brilliant, and it took me this long to figure it out. I realize the song may seem hokey to some, and that’s fine… but I know no one who could have written a line as strong as “Whatever we deny 0r embrace” and thereby have put “being meant for someone" in a completely new context - a context that doesn’t involve the word “perfect.”

There are two others that come to mind, and I’m going to leave them out there for you. These are classic songs, but I suspect that most won't know them. This isn’t a test, it’s just a method of sharing my initial learning of and companion bewilderment with the true meaning or best interpretation of these gems. You may think I'm an idiot for not getting these immediately, or you may realize something very cool.

I'm not being a comment whore. If you don't want to participate or think it's silly, don't. If you do, and wish to express your amazement or state of not being whelmed, then that's great too.

(breath)

So here you go. The first is intensely silly, and to get it you must read the lyrics and pronounce the title line very very loosely. It took me twenty years of listening to this song to get that. I suspect that I just wasn't paying attention. If you want, you can comment with the intended hearing of the title (but see below, please) if you are faster than I am (was) and get it.

The second is one of the best pure love songs I have ever known. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize the most amazing (and probably intended) interpretation of the final verse until I was thinking about the song in the shower today. Look at it, think ever so slightly outside “the moment” in the third verse, and see if you come up with it. If you realize how amazing the answer is, you will know that you have realized it – you should choke (please don’t comment with it, but if you want to say that you think you get it, that's fine). I will title my next entry with what I think it is.

For the 500th time, Tech, stop F*&ing whining

If you read the article on Tech in this morning's AJC, read what I wrote.


What will they cry about next?

PS - Kit, did you ever get that whiskey out of your hair from 2003?

I have thirty things on my mind, and unfortunately I don't have the time tonight to sit, think, and write with any degree of eloquence. So I will just put a bug in your collective ear (a phrase which reminds me of that weird earwig thing in one of the Star Trek films.... uggghhh) and write in more detail later.

- I spent a good chunk of the weekend in Atlanta and Athens to say bye to Gunner and to attend a wedding. There were many moments of pure bliss and at least one moment of pure stupidity. That moment was totally my fault, and I'm so embarassed by it that I won't even put it in the blog. Those who know know, but we haven't discussed it.

- Apparently I now like Gin and Tonic.

- Remember like two weeks ago when I said that I was almost finished working? Not so. I'm behind.

- I moved to Nashville one year ago today. I have much more to say about this, but it will simply have to wait. Oddly, I play my first show in Nashville since I moved on Monday night... on my 366th day in town.

Amen

For better or worse, you probably have to be a music nerd like me to appreciate this video, which really shouldn't even be a video. If you're interested in the origins of one of the rhythmic patterns that is ridiculously prevalent in modern music and advertising, this is worth 15 minutes of your free time. It's a bit dry, and I don't agree with the conclusions that the narrater makes.

Nevertheless, it's very interesting. What caused me to post this was hearing the break on a commercial for this product.

Pictures and words combined

This is a photo-driven post, which means that whatever photos I have taken will determine what I will write about. Alright, here we go. Here comes photo #1.



I would black out this person’s face, but I don’t have the software necessary to do that. This was taken at the local dive right down the street from where I live. I usually visit there every Sunday night, and for two weeks running now, I have visited and not smoked!

Anyway, this poor fella has the worst case of Fl0ck of Se@gulls hair I have ever seen, and it just makes me laugh. You can't quite tell from the photo, but trust me. It's bad.

Ok, here comes #2.



This was my breakfast this morning, and it was about as pretty as anything I have ever put on a plate. So I gave it a B+ for presentation, took a picture of it, then ate it.

Ok…. gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme, number three.



Do you know what that is? It’s a stage. There are people playing instruments and singing music on that stage. And three of them are Stee|y Dan (well, which is two guys… I mean basically) and Michael McD0nald. The person taking the picture was me.

If you do the math correctly, you will reason that I was at the concert, and you will reason rightly. It was fantastic.


This is Walt. You may know that he is the sax0phonist for SD. I think when he’s playing (as you may note that he is in this picture) that he looks like me when I’m playing.

K.

Ch... ch... changes. Time to change the oil.

1. I thought I would try linking to a song of mine. So if you haven't heard the song whose name rhymes with "Schmaltzing with Farrah" then here you go. Enjoy. I would love to link more tunes, but registering copyrights costs money, so it will be a while.

2. You will notice to your right (you guessed it... my left), I have changed the format of my links. Rather than letting you sift through the never updated and the oft updated blogs, I have recommended an interval for your perusal based on the consistency of the blogger's posting habits. If you feel you have been unfairly categorized, I will hear your appeal (with my back turned and my nose in the air, but I will hear it). Email me.

Yay Gunner!!!! If he were a fisherman's assistant, then this morning he would have been named "Master Baiter." He is not a fisherman's assistant, so you can just call him... um, well, go ahead and call him "Master Baiter." He'll like that. Marines like that sort of thing.

Gracelessness Pays Off

Before posting this, I would reference my previously stated disgust for some of my blogging tendencies. I have really gotten tired of writing (and later reading) how freaking wonderful or completely shitty everything is. So. Know that this is just an account of a night that I found particularly enriching. Every time in this post that I feel like I am starting to get romantic about my chosen field or sense a threat to end the entry like a Dave Barry column, I throw up in my mouth a little. Sorry for what sounds like self-loathing... It's just a mood.

I’m saving a lot of my thoughts for a post that I will write in a couple of weeks. But I would be feigning a nonchalant mood if I said that things were normal tonight.

As you probably know, in the days A.B. (“After Bowling Green”) I kinda got off of my ass and jumped back into the real reason I was in Nashville. As I was planning this jump, I remembered very clearly something that my former next door neighbor told me after she had gotten out of the middle of a rather rough patch, during which she was pretty much alone all the time. In explaining how she had gotten into some social circumstances that I thought were unusual, she said “I started to realize that, when someone reaches a hand toward you, you had better take it… it probably won’t be there again.”

Among the hands that have recently been extended to me was an invitation to what amounts to a very well-organized pickin’ party. It’s not just a bunch of people sitting around with guitars. It has hosts, guest artists, food, a method of bringing non-featured guests into the show, etc. The invitation went out by email to a list of people who attend a couple’s local weekly song workshop… It wasn’t like someone thought, “Brett would enjoy this.” I just happened to be on the list because I go to the workshop sometimes. I was taking a liberal approach to what an invitation was or was not, and I knew a couple of the featured guests, so I decided that that was as much of an extended hand as I could expect here.”

There are so many things I hate about first time social occasions… the look you get from people when you walk through the door that says, “Who’s the shy-looking bald guy with the fake smile?" The obvious moments of awkwardness when there really is nothing to say after the pleasantries are over just kills me. Not knowing who lives there… forgetting names you just learned… having to ask where the restroom is… those consistent worries about the politics of who sits in the chairs when there aren’t enough, leaning against walls, and whether or not this particular home is relaxed enough to accept the rather unsanitary act of manually grabbing cashews from the bowl. All of those things have always been pure misery for me, and I was dreading them all day long. But I made myself go down there, bitching all the way.

And my fears were, of course, justified (as they usually are… they’re just stupid things to worry about). But at some point, as the picks came out and the results of a few momentary occasions of brilliance were passed on to new sets of ears, it became worth it. The forcing oneself into a closed circle of conversation, the small talk, the moments of unintentional silence, the exit during which you strangely learn that you are now a “hugging friend” in spite of your double clutch as the other party reaches toward you, the nerves that caused you to spill peanuts onto the hosts’ floor in mid-conversation and the embarrassment of sticking your ass in the air in attempt to make sure you got all of them… they became worth it.

For the record, I heard two songs tonight that I had first heard either on my tv or my radio, and I didn’t realize that I knew the writers. I heard one of the coolest elderly voices I have ever heard (think J. Cash). I heard hooks, grooves, chords, melodies, and tongues planted firmly in cheeks. Those things made the trip worth the complications.

When I realized the benefits of the situation, I was finally at home enough that I decided that I will probably put up with circumstances of a similar level of gracelessness again in the near future. And perhaps next time, I will be contributing not only to the awkwardness, but also to the payoff.

If you had told me four years ago that I would put myself through (what to me is) hell in order to get done what I want to get done, I would have called you a fool and I would have been right. I give myself just a little bit of credit for walking into cold situations and repeating it until the people in the circle have no choice but to remember my name. I think it's the only way to do it.

But boy, sometimes it would sure seem nice if the room were as easy as the rooms where I find most of you.