"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.

Lots on the mind, but not much that's coming out. So here:

• The North Koreans have a missile called a....... wait for it.... "Nodong" (*rolls on floor, laughing ass off, nose between ring and middle fingers a la AHayes*).

• It's amazing to me that there are still non-Depp pirates in the world.

... no nicotine since friday am.... grass is always greener.... first trip to bar since then was tonight.... Ginger from Gilligan's Island in present day post-menopausal condition looking good.... going to go walk this off.... wish luck.... no, really....

The answer to the Br0ken S0cial Scene question was "Fire Eye'd B0y." It is pasted below if you want to see what I was all hot and bothered about.


Sure enough, Brett finds out what this tune is... and there goes another damn dollar to Apple.

Superman Returns

I saw saw Superman Returns tonight, and I was somewhat whelmed. Rather than boring you with text about the film, I will instead bore you with a best and worst list about the film.

Best:

1. Used the original John Williams theme music.
2. Routh's delivery of the line "Good night, Lois," is a dead ringer for Reeve.
3. Kevin Spacey.
4. The space shuttle scene - probably the coolest thing in the film, and it's unfortunate that this happened so near the beginning.

Worst:

1. While I appreciate that director Singer was nodding to the original two films and the older character, I could do without the kitchsy "It's a bird, it's a plane bit." It sounded a bit like those people you know who want to sound spontaneaous, but deliver their one-liners with a little too much polish and just enough rush to sound not rehearsed.
2. Same thing but more serious... again, thanks for the nod to the original everytime it happened. But oh my God, "Truth, justice, and all that stuff?" Really? Leave it out altogether if you don't want to use the word... ya know, that word. But don't change Superman.

[Ed: Here is a letter I just wrote to the screenwriters of Superman Returns.]

Dear Screenwriters of Superman Returns,

Blow it out your ass.

Best wishes,

Brett
3. How completely obvious the twist was before the movie was ten minutes old.
4. No Richard Pryor (That's a joke...).

My opinion: Probably worth seeing at the theater if you loved the original two like I did. Make it a matinee.

Letterman

Yet again, two things:

1. Does anyone know (or can anyone find out) the name of the song performed by Br0ken S0cial Scene on Letterman last night (6/29/06)?

2. If you haven't been watching, one of Dave's cooler new sketches is called Late Sh0w Fun Facts, which are statements of no truth that sound like something USA Today would put in the lower left corner. For me, it rivals the T0p Ten in originality. Here is a sample of some of the latest ones (from cbs.com):

• On the moon, a person becomes 84% lighter and 12% shorter.
• The longest yard ever measured was three feet, two inches.
• Leonardo daVinci's notes and sketches contain detailed diagrams for the Wet-Nap.
• The most commonly misspelled word in the English language is "Toyotathon."
• The concept of "Soup of the Day" was invented by the Aztecs.

Check out the rest if you like, here. Of course, any red-blooded American would be watching anyway, CBS Weeknights 11:30E/10:30C.

Two things:

1. I am on dial-up... again... from my house.................... that's why............ you............. only get a............... little bit................. of this message at a...............................................
............................................................................... time. Cable.......... guy.......... in........... the...................... morn.'

2. Apparently tonight is Make-Out Night USA. I went out on the deck, and heard my new male and female upstairs neighbors giggling and sighing directly above me, and I'm pretty sure they weren't watching The Golden Girls (it would be different if there was some kind of view, but it's just a f*&king apartment complex.... yes, Brett - yes it is). The next time I went outside, I instead went out my front door, only to find a couple getting all fresh with each other in the parking lot, Bayside style.

It feels like Florida '96.

Hrmmm, um, what to say...

It’s obviously the not-so-busy season in the blogging department for several of us, myself included. I know I haven’t posted much because there isn’t a great deal to tell that is that momentous. Since break-up part two, most developments that have taken place (except for a couple of visits to Nashville from great friends) have been internal and not of a great deal of interest. Plus, in reading some of my previous posts, I got really tired of what seems to have become a cliché at some point. It goes something like this:

“Things are about to get really good” or “Something is changing” or “It’s time for me to do something about it.”

Blegh.

So, I guess that leaves me with random time. And just to be genuine about it, I am going to use bullets.

• After moping about Anne for two days after I got back, I pretty much shut up and got on with life… again, a pretty radical departure from my past, but I think that’s a good thing. She probably flashes through my mind about once every 8 hours or so. That’s not so much.

• I’ve been reading this book lately, and it is wonderful if you enjoy thinking about trends and what large numbers of people can be compelled to do.

• I think I mentioned that Brad came into town for a couple of days after I got back. Earlier this week, Scorley came in for a day and we had a great time. Among other things, we wrote drill, drank way more than we should have, and found a very cool new restaurant where I will take you should you make your way to town. I also lost money in heads-up poker.

• Our waitress at the aforementioned restaurant is a writer/vocalist that I have heard several times in town. It does repeatedly amaze me how small the community or the world is.

• With the exception of a couple of last-minute gigs I have picked up from Alabama and hopefully something for Knight this fall, the horn book-writing for this year should be finished tomorrow (well, today… Thursday).

• Because I actually did get off my ass and do something about not feeling worth a damn ten days ago, I have been feeling more consistently physically good than I remember in many years (with the exception of the morning, er, afternoon after Scorley and I got into the booze).

• Would everyone think I was a wus if I didn’t drink whiskey anymore, and instead switched to wine? If so, would they get over it?

• Health Clubs: If you use them and have pointers for me regarding what to look/look out for, please fill me in. I think I have found one that I like, but I don’t want to do something stupid.

I guess that’s about it… nothing to whine about, no great philosophical realizations that aren’t going into tunes. I’m busy and never bored. I feel great, but not in a "wake up and conquer the world" sort of way... it's something much calmer and steadier, whether that's good or bad.

And that's that.

To not quite quote L@rry King, "Bloomington, Illinois... go ahead." Let me know who you are. I promise not to bite, unless you're into that sort of thing.

I think I am not going to move. I don't know if it's what Bowling Green said, a significant change in habits on my part, that swagger, or just the tides, but I have started running into a lot of people here. I don't see the point in going somewhere where I'm not going to feel safe. And I just don't feel like packing the truck and doing it all again.

Sc0rley comes to town tomorrow afternoon for about a day. That will be nice.

Shit

Ok, I wasn't even going to post today. But I am up late again (actually working this time) and the tv is going in the background. It stuns me that this guy ever got a date, much less had the opportunity to procreate. Sleep well, single people. There is hope for you yet.


"Well, uh, a fecophiliac is somebody who's obsessed with mookie-stinks, Kyle."

I'm not normally up this late these days, but I'm thinking about moving. I've been diligently researching the pros and cons of this move because it would be to a part of town that has not always been known as the safest place in the world, but is experiencing a really cool revival that I think I would like to be in on. Plus, the apartment is just cool - 1/4 of a very old house. I wish I had the pics but I don't. Anyway, I'll think over the weekend and decide on Monday. I think I'm going to do it.

"The Project"

On at least one ocassion in the past year, I have subtly mentioned "a project" at UGA. Well, the AP has picked up on that project and offers an error-filled, if enthusiastic, look at it. It's nice to see the little video with at least one face that is somewhat familiar to many of you.

Battle Hymn at Pregame

Even though it gets slammed as boring or overly sentimental sometimes, I'm still a proud papa. Not great footage, but it does remind you of what that moment feels like when it goes almost right.

Kudos to Paulwesterdawg and The Hobnailed Boot for the find.

Faking it and doing so very well

I made myself a couple of promises on the way back into town on Sunday. These two promises were:

1. I was going to do something about my real intended career as soon as possible.
2. I was going to get out of the house and “get out there” as Bowling Green told me I needed to do.

I did both of those things tonight, and it has made the world seem like less of a tunnel than it did just days ago. In one moment that was particularly important to me, I was sitting on the porch of a pretty significant music establishment with several people that I really didn’t know (at least two of whom have written tunes that many of you know by heart). I felt that old shyness, that belief that everyone was wondering what I was doing there. In what I guess was a moment of decision, I felt myself becoming emotional at “not fitting” in.

It was then that I realized that I was either going to try to fit in and be rejected or accepted, or that I could go home and watch TV by myself. I chose the former… totally faked it, smiled, acted confident and happy in the moment, found something to laugh about. Though the effect didn’t kick in right away, by the end of dinner at 11:30 tonight, the known factors at the table were looking inquisitively in my direction, and finally couldn’t help but break into my conversation and ask, “What are y’all talking about?”

Perhaps this could become a habit.

"go get um - DLK" in three parts

Part One

Several years ago, college basketball public address announcers began to notify the players and crowd when the game clock reached one minute before the end of a game. Having been to over 300 college basketball games in the last ten years or so, I have become accustomed to this announcement, and it is in fact ingrained in my head.

I tend to take long showers, and I sometimes get so comfortable in the shower that my hesitance to leave makes me late for wherever it is that I need to be on a given morning. As I have realized this, I have forced myself to exit the shower within a certain amount of time from the moment when I realize that I am no longer showering for cleanliness. When this moment arrives and I am showering in a house in which I am alone, I will often repeat the announcement that I heard so many times at basketball games.

“One minute. One minute remaining.”

And then I count the seconds down to zero, and I finally leave the shower, wishing all the while that I didn’t have to.

Part Two

My three weeks in Athens brought back a steady controlled swagger that I had lost in the eleven months since I moved to Nashville. Some of this resulted from a situation or two in which I had no choice but to ignore fear and act. Some of it came from a forced change of habits that kept me focused and active. Some of it happened from simply being comfortable. Nevertheless, I like this gait and the accompanying confidence, and I intend to do my best to keep it.

I had a conversation with Bowling Green on the way home today, in which she revealed what happened. I won't post the details, but I will say that I think she was justified in her final decision and that I agree with it. We agree that trying this again was a bad idea, and she has fully accepted the portion of the responsibility for this heartbreak which is rightly hers. But what was particularly notable about the conversation was that she reinforced this confidence with words that could not possibly have been easy for her to release from her mouth.

Be mad or think I am naive for not telling her to go to hell if you want. It will be a while before I can talk to her again for my own reasons. Bowling Green is over. But I now have a friend an hour and twenty minutes from here. While she hurt me in ways, she preserved the positive portions of what was there by doing something that I know was difficult. I'm pretty thankful for that.

Part Three

You may recall that several students in the band threw me a surprise goodbye party before I left UGA. You may also recall that they gave me a beautifully drawn print of a band uniform layed upon a dorm room chair, framed by goodbye messages written from many people associated with the band.

When I forget why I am here, I look at those messages. One in particular reminds me of the figurative slap on the ass and shove out of the aircraft door that those who were dear to me provided as I was preparing to leave Athens. David Ki$h wrote something so simple:

"Once a dawg...

go get um

DLK"

This contributes even more to that swagger that I really need to get back into the game in every imaginable sense. I know, I know. I'm still recovering, and I need to re-enter with fresh legs... I'll take care of myself.

But it feels like something really, really good is about to happen. And I know what I need to do to make sure I'm ready.

The commercial break is almost over, and the coach is looking toward the bench. You know what happens next, but I'll keep you posted every step of the way.

Moving on

The circles that life sometime provides are amazing.

As you read yesterday, things with Bowling Green have ended again. I find myself again at Walker's, in the same spot where I have previously written to her describing a previous trip to Athens, at the same spot where I responded to a seemingly innocent email of five weeks ago asking how I had been, at the same spot where I two weeks ago wrote her an email detailing the minutiae of my very poorly timed departure from Nashville, and at the same spot where I received her break-up email yesterday. Here I am again, reminding myself of what I had really become comfortable with just moments before she emailed a month ago in an attempt to try again...

I'm ok.

Her timing was absolutely horrible in that last night was supposed to be about Gunner. Unfortunately, at times, it was not, and I'm very sorry for those of you who had little choice but to lend a hand in rebuilding me once again. But it is.

And that's just it. It is. I am angry. I am hurt. And I frankly feel betrayed at being asked to trust someone who had hurt me a little bit before at the risk of being hurt worse a second time. I can't imagine that the process of finding a way to mitigate the resulting jerks of the knee and learned reactions to another woman at some point in the future is going to be easy. In fact I know it won't be.

But as much as I am inclined not to trust someone again, as much as I want so badly to draw a negative conclusion about all people (and specifically all women), as much as I want to abandon all hope of ever finding someone who is compatible with me and emotionally capable of managing the quirks and faulty connections between synapses that invariably accompany the difficult process of exposing one's emotional self... It's the wrong thing to do.

Yep, here we go again, recovering from misplaced trust. I want so badly to crawl in a hole and mope about how alone I am and how selfish and untrustworthy all people are... but I won't.

I'll recover. I will jump again, and it's likely that I will miss again. And then I will jump again, all the while hoping that someone out there tells the truth and allows me to do the same without judging me unfairly while sticking around long enough to find out the real truth.

The only other option is far too depressing to think about.

Bowling Green is gone for good. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, you know the rest. Something will change.

Cough, wheeze, try to breathe (not the same as being breathless)

There is so much to tell and no time to tell it, so here is a brief summary and some brief very random (yet somehow associated) thoughts.

1. Week one of the camps was quite successful for the first five full days. On the sixth day, things got very hectic and the wheels threatened to come off. It was salvaged and all ended basically very well.

2. I was pegged to sing "Amie" by Pure Pr@irie League on the staff recital last week, in bluegrass style with several closeted practitioners of hillbilly music. It was pretty good, but I had started noticing as the performance was approaching that my vocal range was suffering. Twenty minutes after the performance, I couldn't sing the part correctly. I figured that this was due to our having raised the pitch to accomodate one of the other vocalists.

The next morning I woke up with a cough, and my body began aching as the morning progressed. It was at this time when one of the clinicians said "I went to the doctor about that on Monday. It was strep throat... they gave me a shot and it cleared right up."

Thanks!

Sure enough, I too had strep and had to see my old doctor for antibiotics. I was out of commission for about a day. It's still wearing off.

3. I enjoyed seeing the Georgia game on Saturday (in spite of the loss) with Scorly and Trina. We had a nice afternoon together as well (while I worked).

4. Today, the second camp started with far more complications than the first. My stress level rose through the roof, and I began to recognize my reactions to that as those of myself when I lived and worked here. I am simply stunned at how much that can affect every other portion of my life, and I don't particularly care for the reaction. This, yet again, confirmed for me that I made the right move.

5. I have had quite a bit of trouble breaking away to work, but I hope that will improve this week.

6. The level of bullshit in my particular former corner of this town is at an all-time high.

7. If you haven't already heard, we are drinking in Gunner's honor this weekend. You should be there.

How's this for bloggers?

In order not to be publicly humiliated... well, publicly humiliated by someone other than myself (namely the Blog Police or his Trusty Assistant). I am writing briefly today. I don't have much time to do so, however, as I have only managed to get away from my camp duties for four hours, and I certainly don't want to be cited by the Why the Hell Aren't You Writing My Show Police.... a citation that is much more expensive in real currency.

All is well. I'm busy, tired, and in Athens. Two photographs for you:


This was me just moments ago in Die Walkers. I'm not sure if that's rage, fatigue, or a temporary lapse of what Gunner calls "coping skills."


This is Gunner on Friday night, drinking some kind of soda that made him feel funny.

I'll write more as soon as Galarza complains again.

Morning at Walker's

So I'm sitting at Walker's emailing some files off of my laptop this morning. For some reason, a bit of my coffee went down the wrong pipe. Coffee spewed at high velocity from my mouth onto what I was sure would be my computer keyboard. Fortunately, I hadn't taken as big of a sip as I thought I had. Thus, only a drop made the computer, none made the keyboard, and I live to fight another day. However, my pride is destroyed as the five other people who are here witnessed my body's rejection of the drink, and thus also heard the sound I made... think "pygmie fellates chainsaw" and you'll be pretty close to the sound.

By the way, I think the downtown Athens internet is slow as balls.

.... oh and, huh?

1. Who cares?
2. .....just, huh?

Well, I won’t be explaining the previous post. It was simply an expression and you may interpret it however you wish. I recommend that you interpret it positively and attempt to assign no details to that positivity (thank you S. Kelly and P0sh T0ner!!!! [inside joke, moreso than some people wish it were]).

Things are good in Nashville, so what am I going to do? Go live in Athens for three weeks. That’s logical.

Anyway, I work through the weekend and then head to the Classic City on Monday. A week of preparation and two weeks of summer camp, followed by a reception for a dear friend and a post-mortem will follow. I am back in Nashville at some point around June 21.

I will do my best not to be non-bloggy when I am away.

:) .......... seriously.

More RCB China News

Kudos to Adam for this one.

RCB Article in the Shanghai Daily. The penultimate paragraph is charming.

A great clip for Letterman, REM, and Athens people

This is still my favorite song of a band from my favorite town on my favorite TV show.

And here's an official update on the trip through public affairs.

Wow... I learned from a referral to this blog that this search yields this blog as it's number one result... and all this time I thought I was keeping this thing pretty clean.

Upper left front on today's ajc.com: Redcoats in China Pics.

Breathless

Good times in Myrtle Beach, Athens, and Atlanta. It was nice to get a little relaxation along with time with family and friends. Unfortunately I all but ignored my email inbox, so I will be on that first thing Monday morning.

While at the beach, we attended the more or less low-rent amusement park where we usually spend one evening for the boys (the boys under 27, that is). One of the big attractions for a five-year old and an almost-three-year-old boy is the Spinny Car Ride Thingy, which features fake cars moving on a significantly reduced scale model of I-285 (i.e., a circle). One particular fake vehicle caught my eye.


It's hard to see, but the front of the vehicle is marked "Special Bus" with the "L" and the "U" missing. I'm glad neither nephew was riding this one.

On the way back through Athens, I had a great Friday evening with Trina and a great Saturday morning with the Gunner, both of which were at Walker's. Then, Trina and I took in one of the underappreciated gems of life in Athens, Georgia.


Day Baseball!!!!

The Dawgs were victorious in this, their final regular season game of the year, and took the series from the SEC Co-Champion Kentucky Wildcats. The postseason has lots of promise for the Georgia this year. Keep your eye on these guys. If I am not mistaken, the Georgia baseball team is undefeated when I have been in attendance (and yes, I have been to more than one game). I can't help but believe that I am responsible for this in some small way.

In unrelated news, some things have changed in Bowling Green. I will post about it when/if it is ever appropriate. Let's just say that I think it's a good thing.

A note to people who work in fields requiring creativity:

1. When your opinion is not solicited, there is usually a good reason. It might be that the creative process is too far along to accomodate a fresh opinion. It might be that there are already too many people contributing. It is also possible that your opinion might not serve this particular endeavor very well. It might also be that no one respects your opinion. Regardless, accept that there is a good reason and move on.

2. Should you choose to ignore #1, you have absolutely no right under any circumstances to throw a fit because your suggestions didn't make the final copy. In fact, there is a distinct possibility that doing so will cause you to be perceived as a child.

That's my impression right now.

Just Another Day in DisneyLand

Thursday
I am still preturbed at the hand I went out on at the freeroll I played with Russell on Thursday night (my first). Russ endured a bad beat early on and was a real trooper as I continued a streak of beginner's luck well into the tournament. It started at 60-something people and we were down to 25 or so. I sat with about 25,000 chips. I was dealt A-A (there were no possible flushes) and bet half of my stack in late position (about 3.5 times the BB). Chica across the table calls me.

Flop comes 8-9-10, and I move all-in to guard against the straight, thinking she wouldn't have called the bet with Q-J. She called and shows K-Q.

Sunuva...

Turn: J. River: Expletiving A.

I lost with three Aces to a broadway straight. Unfortunately, the only thing that made me want to do is play again.

Friday
Went to a meeting in the Ville von Snell, and then procedded to the Classic City. I just missed the governor speaking to the band, and the picture of him in a shako has not yet made the news.

I then enjoyed the send-off performance and not enough time with good old friends. Afterwards, Gunner and Trina and I enjoyed one of those almost perfect Athens evening of bullshit and my observation of their discussion of military tactics. I miss the days when that was easier... and it is about to become even more difficult, but only in the name of fulfilling one's potential.

Saturday
I'm sitting in my favorite place in the world, enjoying a perfectly breezy spring day at Walkers, while observing the aftermath of commencement. It still chokes me a bit to watch all those people soaking their last few minutes in Athens with their families, while conveniently failing to point out that the drain grate that they just passed was the one where he threw up after a long night on Clayton. This is what it looks like from my seat"



... and here is a distant look at the folks crowding to get their picture made in cap and gown at the Arch:



Some things never change.

Off to a T-ball game and then Myrtle Beach now. This hasn't been the best of weeks, so for me, last week ended yesterday.

"Try lying for a change, it's the currency of the world." - Dan in Closer

• Congrats to the Gunner on his recent success up north. You deserve it, young man.

• I leave tomorrow for Marietta (poker and friends), Athens (RCB send-off), and North Myrtle Beach (family vacation [read "working vacation"]) for a little over a week. Those of you who are expecting work from me shouldn't worry. My new toys will allow me to work... hopefully a little better than I've been working here.

• I learned two things today about the theme from "Sp0rtscenter":
1. It was originally the ID theme for the now defunct Satelli+e News Channel.
2. It was written by this person. Scroll down on her site if you want to know what she's most famous for.

• I have begun to learn recently that this town is a little more cutthroat than I had personally experienced. Though it's almost always polite, I'm becoming more acquainted with a deception in which people engage in order to hook you when you're needed and ditch you when something better is available. I won't lie and say that I'm okay with that. I'm not okay with that.

Nevertheless, I chose to play this game, so I'm not going to quit just because people prey on a nature that is probably a little too trusting for my own good. The truth is, people who need to use others need to use others. I wonder what happens to them when there's no one around to use anymore.

I intend to find out.

By the time I get back from several out-of-town engagements over the next two months, I will have lived here for almost a year. A year seems like a long enough time to decide to stop observing and start participating. I have thought I was doing that, but seeing what's going on around me I have realized that I am not.

I feel like the skinny kid who is sitting bored in right field in a kickball game. I think July is a good time to reveal that I have a razor blade in my pocket and my own ball at home.

From a while ago

Idol Chatter 5/9/06

Ok, I'm not even going to pretend that I'm really paying attention to it. I liked Katharine's jeans, and the end of Taylor's second song.

Write. It will fulfill you.

I wish I was a Kennedy.

A UGA alum that some of you know is featured in this story in the Nashville paper. Look at the picture.

Scott calling up "One Hand, One Heart" with the Bball Band up north.

I'm not counting my chickens before they boil but....

No details, but something very cool may have happened today. Met a new co-writer that seems promising, and we may finally have found a nice home for The Waltz (sorry SES, but the name will probably change). More news if/when I have it (weeks to months), but don't hold your breath.

Makes writing the Georgia Blocks seem like playing with Lincoln Logs.

Idol Chatter 5/2/06

Studies have shown that failure to express yourself can result in numerous physical/emotional/physiological issues later in life, including libido/erectile difficulties. You'd best relieve the urge by saying what you think if you watched.

I think Paris is out, and not because she has done anything to cause her to be voted off.

Finally

Not much to report right now.

1. I saw United 93 yesterday. I don't remember being shaken by a film as much as I was by this one. I really really think it's something everyone should see, even if you're scared to see it. It's not so much an entertainment activity as it is an exercise in returning to reality.

2. I am not joining the immigration debate because someone will miusunderstand or spin my opinion in a way that will piss me off. I will say, however, that I think the moves of the last week by the people who support amnesty have been very stupid. I think they have more severely scared those who were already very alarmed and brought a lot of attention to something that they frankly didn't want to receive attention.