My schedule in Athens, for what it's worth

Yes, I should be in bed right now.

Here’s my schedule for my trip to the ATH as I know it.

Friday
God knows when - Wake up
Eh, let’s call it 8 pm - Arrive in Athens
Sometime after that - Trina or Steely Dan Cover Band Concert or both
God knows when - Bed

Saturday
Noonish - Coffee with Skip
Rest of day - Dunno

Sunday
Noonish - Lunch with the Oobs
2ish - Possible Basketball Game
Rest of Day - Dunno

Monday
10am - Meeting with Skip
Noonish - Travel to Snellville
2pm - Meeting at the ‘kwood
4pm - Return to Athens
After 6 - Dunno

Tuesday
Morning - Dunno
Noonish - Travel to Dacula
1:30pm - Meeting at the Starbucks near Dacula
3:30pm - Return to Athens
5pm - Recital
7pm - Dunno

Wednesday
8:30am - Travel to Cumming
10am - Coffee with Mom and Dad
Noonish - Travel to Nashville
5:30pm(C) - Due on the Row

That’s it. Call. I can promise that I will appreciate the company more than you will.

Yessssssssssssssssss!!!!!!!!!! Now you have to visit.

Idol Chatter 2/22/06 (Men)

I am missing the fun as we speak... work and a bid'ness dinner. Tell me what you hear/see.

Idol Chatter 2/21/06 (Women)

If you want to discuss, join the comments.

Bullets over Brentwood

• I learned a new slang songwriting term tonight, but I’m not going to tell you what it is. Let’s see if I accidentally use it when we’re speaking.

• ESPN tonight was reporting the score to the Farleigh-Dickinson University game, and it occurred to me… every time I hear that name, I think of the school as only somewhat Dickinson.

• I went to a workshop tonight that I’ve been thinking about attending for years, but have waited to start until tonight. The bulk of the five hours was spent critiquing each other's songs. I brought my song (don’t want to print the title) about songs that cause the singer to miss a particular person. Bearing in mind that everything in music is about opinions, here are the various comments that were written by the members of this group about the chorus to that song:

- “NO” [in reference to the second and fourth lines]
- “Beautiful!”
- “Should stay down. Don’t go too high. [in reference to the end of the fourth and fifth lines]
- “Why are you hiding?”
- “Nice!”
- “Take the first subphrase and repeat it three times.”
- “Good hook.”
- “Doesn’t work for the non-musician.” [in reference to the word “measure”]

Which is why you listen, and then decide what advice you will take and what you will put in file 13.

• A really cool site if you like music for tv news broadcasts. Not terribly cool if you don’t.

• I am heading to Athens on Friday afternoon, and will basically be around until Tuesday afternoon. Now you know where to find me if you want.

Nashvillian for "Baller"

Kip made his way to Nashville this weekend for a bit of frivolity. We had a blast. I'm sure he'll tell you more about it, but if he doesn't, I will later. On a whim, I checked to see if the Lady Dawgs were going to be around the Nashville area, and sure enough they were today. So Kip and I ventured off to one of the more unique sports venues you'll ever see to enjoy the Georgia vs. Vanderbilt women's basketball game.



Memorial Gymnasium was the site for today's event. It was a little freaky being there, as this is where I started watching basketball as a kid. If you're not familiar with it, it is constructed in a very different way from most basketball arenas. The playing floor is elevated several feet from the sideline seats. Because of this, the teams sit behind opposite baselines, rather than on the sideline. The seating areas are only on the side and the ends, and there is a block wall (festively decorated, I might add) in the corners. Thusly, the seating areas are very deep and high to accomodate plenty of Dores fans (the team, not the legendary group fronted by Jim Morrison).


A shot of the sideline to our left. Note the mid-level balcony, way the hell away from the playing floor. When I went to the counter to purchase our tickets before the game, I watched the attendant double-take and notice that I was wearing Georgia colors. At this point, she moved her hands from a small stack of tickets to a laaaaaaaarge stack of tickets. Kip and I refused to be banished to the Siberia of women's basketball seating, and stealthily moved to the section with the rest of the Georgia fans. I know: We're out of control.


The significant Georgia contingent, and the gigantic corner wall of death by Dore to our right. The two nice ladies in the foreground started a brutal game of "Who Can Point Longer?" (from the early days of "The Price Is Right") early in the first half. This would end in tragedy.

One of the scoreboard sponsors brought about a revolution in my thinking about marketing.


Wow. Why didn't I think of this. A freaking sign company advertising on a sign. Brilliant. Also note the message board, as one of Vanderbilt's more popular football season ticket incentives is hawked. This could be related to their attendance difficulties.

The announcer was ridiculous. Besides randomly yelling "Yeah!" in the middle of promotions, and generally sounding as though he was caving to the 4th grade My Little Pony market, he overdid the artificial announcer enthusiasm to a nauseating degree.


Transcription of one portion of the starting lineup announcement. Nice.

Some things haven't changed at all.


Coach threatens to eat the limbs of one of the officials if they don't start callin' 'em both ways.


Whoops, my flash just happened to go off right in her face as she was releasing the ball. My bad (She missed the shot).

This one's kinda tough to see.


Bandy doing it's thing. [Note: This is their entire marching band*]


Wow... a cute sideline reporter that Brett decided to stare at rather than watch the game. There's a new one.

Unfortunately, Kip needed to get back to Atlanta by a decent hour. For some reason the seats did not clear out nearly as much as I thought they would with Georgia leading big late. Because of the impending threat of more snow (which is being realized right now), we had to violate my number one Rule of Sporting Events and leave before the game was over. Luckily, we were not missed, as Georgia went on to win handily, 83-61. The game was Vanderbilt's worst loss at home in eight years. I feel somewhat responsible.

---------------------------------

Notes: * - This is not true. Actually, it's only part of their Basketball Bandy, doing that thing like NATS and Auburn where they become mobile, spreading brassy joy to the cheap seats.

K. I’m not quite as mad now.

I played golf today with the attorney. Not a bad start. It actually went straight some times.

I have determined the source of my back pain, most notably present on the mountain trip. As a result, there will be an upcoming search for a new mattress. If anyone owns one they really like, please let me know what brand you have.

Post removed because I'm not nearly as mad about the women losing to Tennessee as I was. This is due, in large part, to the fact that I saw them in person today, and realized that they only had seven people really ready to play - mostly because of injury. - 2.19.06

Idol

If you don't watch American Idol, you can kinda ignore this. If you do watch it, get your picks ready based on the 24 finalists that were revealed tonight... if you want.

I would like to know who you think will win, and why. Any additional analysis or soft picks are welcome as well. I will offer mine soon by way of comment. If no one comments, it will be lame and we won't play.

I am going to echo and add to something I recently read from Charles:

"LLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA LAAAAAAAA LAAAAAAAAAA LAAAAAAAAAAAAAA LA LA LA L L L L LAAAAAAAAAAA..... I CAN'T HEAR YOU....... LAAAAAAA LA LA LAAAAAAAAAAAAA.... WHAT? YOU NEED TURPENTINE TODAY? WHA?................ LA LA LA LA LAAAAAAAAAA LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.... HUH?... YOU NEED TO HAVE YOUR VALIUM IN TIME FOR WHAT?....... LAAAAAAAAAAAAA LA LA LLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA... I CAN'T HEAR YOU, I HAVE A FINGER IN MY EAR......... LAAAAAAAAAAAAA... do-ta-do-ta-doo........ LLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Bulleted List Post # 18 (even more approximate)

• Sorry, Leslie. I have chili wrapping up in the crock pot right now, and it smells better than any company I ever had.

• To pass the time (when I fry on music) I have resurrected “Twisted Metal” on my PS2. Suddenly, when I venture into the real world, I drive like shit.

• Kit, what’s your plan?

• I watched Lord of War tonight. You may not have heard of it. It’s not half bad. If you’re at the video store and don’t see anything you like, it’s probably worth a look. Horrible script, some good acting, some really interesting production, and a neat story that will bug you if you don’t have at least a hint of liberalism in you somewhere… well, it will bug you regardless. But it will piss off pure Republicans.

• In one type of sorting, I put human voices into three categories: those whose timbre I can recall immediately, those to which I can get close, and those I can’t. Here’s where you fall into these categories. I have listed everyone I think reads this and some people who don’t. Let me know if you read this and are not listed. I will promptly correct the oversight.

I can easily internally reproduce the timbre of the voices of the following people:

Knight
Corley
Ln (I have one hell of an audio recording that assists me)
Serena
Wolfe
Oob
Big Oob
Joy Lynn
My sister-in-law
Daly
Warren T
Bryant
Candy
Will
Alan
Chief
Adam H.
Leslie
Trina

I can internally produce a moderately accurate facsimile of the timbre of the voices of the following people:

Russ
Cale
Gunner
Erik M
Probst
P. Walters
My mother
My father
Lambert
My brother
Lindsay
Kit
My grandmother (maternal, alive and kicking in her late 70’s)
Tony

I can’t really even get close to internally reproducing the timbre of the timbre of the voices of the following people:

Sarah S.
Molly
Charles
Ginnie
Hagood
Natalie
Galarza
My grandfather (maternal, deceased 8.5 years)
Traci
Adam E.

I hope I didn’t leave anyone out. I really miss the last group a lot, because I can’t pretend to talk to you.

• Some new pictures for you.


The robe at the hotel room last month in Savannah, in which I was sooooooo tempted to wander to the Office with nothing underneath, but, alas, never did. There's always next year.


Bet God's pissed about this (note the right side of the picture). Click to enlarge (if it were only that easy).


What this weekend's snow (which amounted to 0" [is that a lot?]) looks like when taken by a camera with the flash on.


You don't see this often. I don't know whose butts those are. For the record, that is snow, and it is not dandruff.

In the spirit of answering questions that were brought up on Mountain Weekend 2005 2006, I offer the following new knowledge. The song (the one that sounds like it's saying "Doobie Oobie Doobie Oobie Doobie Ooo Aye Aye Aye," etc... but actually says "Turn me on and turn me up and turn me loose / I am alive and amplified") in the Suzuki commercial with the parachute is:

"Alive and Amplified" performed (oddly enough) by The Mooney Suzuki. I like it.

Big Fish... ending... awesome.

My father's graceful telling of a rather unoriginal joke began classically:

Father: "Knock, knock."
Son: "Who's there?"
Father: "It's snowing."
Son: "It's snowing who?"
Father: The opening line to this great Glen Campbell song that I have recently rediscovered.

I only mention this because it is. Balls.

Words, part one

For my listing pleasure, here are some of my favorite words and phrases right now. Enjoy.

waif
conjecture
germane
purview
malice of forethought
convivial
joy
acrobatic
to wit
critical
balls
jointly
procure
dais
speculative
engage
vascular
subsidize
cut
prorate
hubris
knee-length
help
discreetly
unoriginal
more sweetly
doppelganger
complicit
tanked
porridge
grapple
dismantle
vitamin
release
imperial
benign
peace
home
version
withdrawn
held
nimrod
gesamtkunstwerk
graceful
underwritten
job
vulgar
copy
raison d’etre
tactile
pungent
euphemism
haphazardly
fused
bundle

Wow. Ya know, it would be a total gas to win one of those awards one day (the ones that start with "Gr" and end with "ammy"), but damn... I thought the c0untry awards shows were bad. This is awful.

They are supposed to present awards... right?

The academy does have education as one of its missions, right? Then why didn't anyone know who Robert J0hnson was?

Wonder why the record business is in such bad shape?

¡Kelly Clarkson!

I was afraid there for a while that no one would tell the story of the Great Mountain Escape of 2005 2006. Blog this offers an account. I will give a blow by blow from my perspective… stop snickering, there was no RV, and that’s not even what they were doing.

This will be long, so bear with me… again, stop snickering.

Georgia Girl began planning the experience several months back. SuperB0wl (which turned into Exciting-But-Profoundly-Poorly-Played-Bowl) weekend was to be the time. Blue Ridge, Ge0rgia was to be the place. Both of these things came true.

I know for a fact that GG wanted to invite about 35 people, most of whom read and blog on a regular basis. This simply wasn’t possible, as many of us wound up sleeping on or near the floor. So, I suspect she narrowed the guest list down to the people who:

1. Like to get sloppy drunk every now and then, or every now.
B. Were likely to be able to come attend.
III. Were likely to come attend.
4. Have no known allergies or objection to whiskey, eggs, curse phrases invoking the names of any and all revered deities or legislative whips (or current female pop stars), poker chips, jacuzzi chlorine, bananas or grapes, natural gas, human-made gas, deli meat, beer, snow, or heights. Whew.
v. Did not have to be at work first thing Monday morning.

That knocks about 80% of the people we know off of the list. So, here we geaux.

I went to Blog This and GeorgiaGirl’s place on Thursday night. There was moderate television viewing and drinking, and a rather early bed time (this means before 5 am).

Friday morning, I put my car in the shop and watched BlogThis’s golf lesson. I learned a lot of things that I will conveniently forget before the next time I’m on a golf course. Friday night, Kip joined us for a few birthday drinks (Kip’s Birthday… it was Friday).

Saturday afternoon, BlogThis, GeorgiaGirl, Kip and I headed (ploddingly for all of the stops we had to make, most of which were my fault) north to Blue Ridge. We were first to the cabin and were stunned. The place was amazing, and the snow began to fall moments after we arrived. Stacy had gone directly to the horseback riding facility, and was probably the most on time of any of us. While Ln and Stacy rode horses, BlogThis and I drooled at the cabin and awaited the next guests to arrive, while Kip went to say hello to a nearby cousin.

Stop snickering.

Like clockwork (a clock set on Mountain Time… *wink*), Daly, the Bean, and BitchyBecky arrived. Kip returned. GeorgiaGirl and Stacy made their way up the hill…

and it was on…

The Ge0rgia-Vanderbilt game, that is. The D@wgs pulled one out (do I need to say it again?) and there was much rejoicing. The whiskey then began to flow like wine; the vegetables were catapulted into the air and then into BlogThis’s mouth. Burgers were cooked, then consumed. Moor booze wuz poored. Some watched TV as others played pool. Air hockey was a bust, because the puck had vegetable-projectile-like tendencies, and it was only a matter of time.

Someone started Ph@se 10, while some genius decided it was time to play “Name the 80’s tune.” Somewhere in the middle of all this, Gunner, Chief, and the Diva arrived. I too was amazed at how much she’s grown. For those of you who haven’t seen her lately, she is now 5’8, 105 lbs. She has just completed her masters degree in chemistry and begins medical school at Johns H0pkins next fall. It seems like just last year she was spinning in a cardboard box on my floor at the ‘kstone or singing us the ABC’s.

After an attempt at drunk guitar playing, it was time for bed. Ten minutes later, the Diva was up (not really) and the cabin slowly began to rise. We held two seatings for breakfast, and then various recreational activities began. The jacuzzi was apparently warm enough for some folks to drink beer, get all but nekkid, and wander into the cold in order to participate. Stacy, Russ, Kip, and I played pool. I bet Kip $20 that he wouldn’t put his bare ars against the window for the jacuzzi crowd to experience. I was out some $20.

Next, N0-Limit Texas H0ld ‘em (without real money, thus enabling us to value the white chips at $1 million each) began. Those playing around me became giggly at my lack of understanding of the rules of dealing. This would not last long.

The ballgame soon began, and we gradually huddled around the TV to see the Futility Bowl, while eating an assortment of carb-filled and carb-free snacks prepared by GeorgiaGirl, as well as chicken boobies (not really boobies) prepared by Dave.

After the game ended, I received a friendly lesson in poker from BlogThis, Stacy, and Kip. After Grey’s ended, everyone but Becky and the Bean joined in. Somehow, I managed to win the first game of poker that I had ever played. I am fully aware that I won because I was too inexperienced to play with any level of concern, and for that I am sorry. Nevertheless, I won $35. I entered the next game at a $5 buy-in, and was promptly removed to the loser’s lounge. This brought my net gambling (including Kip’s arse) balance for the weekend to +$10, thus insuring I could afford enough gas to get me to about 10 miles south of Chattan00ga the next day.

I am not sure what happened the rest of the night, as I heard that voice in the back of my head saying “Go to bed now, before you hit on someone or call someone a name.” I complied for the most part, though I did sit and ask Stacy questions as she sat trooper-like and answered them until her consciousness gave way.

Twenty minutes later (not really) GeorgiaGirl was talking me off of the air mattress on which I was sleeping (better than dragging me off) and making me a peanut butter and banana sandwich. The house was frantic with people divvying food and drink, cleaning, and throwing away the remnants of a great weekend-plus. Only 11 minutes after the published check-out time, each of us was on our way back to our non-fairy tale existence in the real world.

I was back here by 5pm and working by 6, which I’ve been doing pretty much non-stop since I got here… which is good.

That’s all I’ve got. I had a blast. The real world beckons.

The Misery of War

Crappy drive down from Nashville… terrible rain, slow vehicles, and the wrong kind of sunset. But I’m here… in Marietta that is.

On the way down I listened to talk radio and heard several discussions of one the political cartoons that has brought about some degree of controversy today. As usual, I will try not to be too political on this, but I was made angry on several occasions.

The cartoon depicts a soldier in a military hospital who has been rendered limbless in battle. Our Secretary of Defense is standing next to the service member, and in attempting to classify his status says, “I’m listing your condition as ‘Battle Hardened.’” The arguments against the publication of this cartoon have basically argued that the cartoon is parodying the soldier or making light of his injury. I think their objections are being misstated.

I suppose it could be argued that placing anything in a cartoon should automatically be considered parody. This is the only argument of which I can conceive that justifies that outrage being expressed. I strongly disagree with this, however. Though I may not like the statements that some cartoonists make, cartoons are their medium. I see this as no more or less dignified than photoshopping the same scene.

I think the real issue is that lots of people are horrified by the brutal results of war.

They should be.

Regardless of how you feel about our conflict in Iraq or Afghanistan, you must realize that war is horrible. It ends lives, destroys families. It sometimes renders the future existence of those who survive it unspeakably miserable.

I wish that men and women didn’t return from battle with no limbs, but it happens – and when it does, it sucks… bad… way worse than any cartoon could ever portray.

Just as the doctor says, “You’re going to feel a little discomfort,” right before he jams a needle in your arm, those responsible for communicating what is happening use language to describe the casualties of war in a manner that makes our emotional response to them more neutral. In so doing, those who communicate those tragedies can seem cold, callous, and without emotion. I would agree with the cartoonist in that out secretary does sometime seem that way, whether he really is or not. I don’t find making that statement to be throwing out the baby with the bathwater. I don’t find it to be disrespectful. I don’t find any attempt at humor by the cartoonist.

So it’s a cartoon. I understand that. Everyone who wishes to express disgust at this cartoon has the right to do so. They can scream that its publication is irresponsible, boycott the newspaper, write letters, protest, have a bake sale… whatever.

But before they do so, I hope they will ask themselves if what’s really bothering them is the cartoon, or the fact that this situation is very, very real. I, for one, hope that those who make the decisions in this war are profoundly aware of the misery that results from it when they make those decisions. In fact, I hope everyone realizes that, and never forgets it.

Seems the Redc0ats are viewed as peacemakers by some. This is a first... ask any hotel in which we ever stayed.

More bullets, and I'm not talking about a murder song... exactly

I know, I know… yet another bulleted post. It’s how I run (I have no idea what that really means, but it probably means something to an ENT doctor).

• I really think this murder song could turn out to be something special. If I had to guess (and I do), I would say that I have listened to this tune more in its sort of infancy stage than anything I have written since W@ltzing With S@rah, and that’s saying a lot.

I hate to blue bell you, but I will gladly distribute courtesy copies (when it’s ready to share) to those of you who are interested if you let me know you want to hear it. Blog This, Ludakit, and Gunner will receive it outright, just because I send them stuff all the time, especially when they aren’t really in the mood to hear it. If you want a copy, and you will promise me that you won’t post it or send it somewhere, let me know by way of comment or email. We’re probably a week or two away from the point where we can do that.

There I go, referring to myself in the plural again.

• Kudos to the dawgs for the recruiting class they brought in today. I’m no recruiting junkie. But I do like winning, and from having been in a field in which we had to (kinda) recruit at a level of intensity of single-digit percentage points as intense as they do, I appreciate the meaning of the process to one's cause.

• This whole Nuva Ring thing is totally screwing with my head. I guess that’s a really poor way of saying that, huh?

• My mother (my dear mother) gave me a shirt for Christmas that is pure blue and gold. I needed a nice shirt to wear out today, and I wore it. Not once – not once – did I receive a bit of grief about wearing tech colors. Now I know that I have moved.

• I had lunch today (the anticipation of which was previously posted) with a co-writer in town who actually does stuff in the industry (ie – he does things that cause writers to be signed, songs to be cut, and product to be moved). If those of you to whom I normally wax nauseatic (not a word) about the industry are disappointed in the near future by my seeming lack of discussion of the industry, this is why. We can now talk about more fun things… like farts, boobs, and liquor.

In spite of my bitching about the relative remoteness of my current home to my friends, it is nice to sit at lunch and hear the narratives of true events that he experiences with artists, writers, execs, etc. who are actually showing up on your radio and video music channels. I might be a bit lonely, but at least I don’t feel so damned helpless.

• I bought a day planner today. What fun?

• If there will be a massage specialist in the mountains this weekend, I need (I almost wrote “knead” then realized how hokey it would be… but then I guess referencing the bad joke is as bad as actually having told it) to know… Lots of driving, lot’s of being leaned over an inherently stupid guitar… I could use the therapy though… we don’t even have to drink.

• The prez was in Nashville today, and I experienced no traffic complications as a result. If I had lived in my old hometown up here, I definitely would have.

• I would like to understand why the Gunner asked GeorgiaGirl to take pics of me on a horse. This concerns me, what with memories of last summer’s roast fresh on my mind, and the advent of Phot0Shop technology.

Whew.

Euphoria-less

In spite of the time indicated at the foot of this blog, I did wake at a reasonable hour today. I worked for Alan and Erik for a while, then sat and watched a few minutes of the Hist0ry Channel’s discussion of the American space program and somehow fell asleep. I awoke just in time to be late to my appointment with Matlock. We made a lot of progress on the murder song, and I think I’m prepared to share a bit in the mountains this weekend. Matlock also gave me some firewood for our use in the mountains.

I then worked for Alan and Erik a bit more as I listened to the State of the Union Address. Then I made a very rough recording of this version of the murder song for Blog This and Ludakit. Both have recordings, which they won’t distribute.

I have a nice lunch appointment tomorrow (today) with the gentleman who convinced me to move here. We’re discussing a character in a song we’re working on. Sometimes I think you can get involved enough in a character that you temporarily forget who you are. That could be dangerous, and thus I find myself returning home, as I am (to a degree) this weekend.

I am on Cloud 4.5 right now. Not down, not up. Just observing. Glad I am not bummed. But wondering what euphoria would feel like, and quite certain that this is months or years away. Euphoria is the only thing I miss about my old job… it was so rare, but so definite.