In Athens in prep work for summer camp, just like this time last year... Time at a premium... Verbs also at a premium... More later.... Vowels also at a premium...
Brtt
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Thursday, May 24, 2007
A few things I have learned since I moved
By the time I return from my impending month-long trip back to Georgia, it will have been nearly two years since I left the world of the gainfully employed to pursue this whatever-it-is that I’m after. I was at another show tonight, and it occurred to me in the middle of the show that this was the case. I began to think about some of the things that I think I have learned over this period of time, understanding that more time behind the pen can prove some of these things to be true or false. I thought I would jot some of those things down - if for no other reason, so I can look back in a couple of years and laugh.
1. This business is huge. There are simply a lot of people in the game… way too many to meet.
2. Among those many are some incredibly talented people, and a few not-so-talented people. Many of the talented people won’t make it, and a few of the not-so-talented people will. Even if you are very talented, work very hard, treat people right, and follow the steps you’re supposed to follow, there is a distinct possibility that you will not make it. The cost of the attempt is that it takes a long time with no guarantees.
3. There are ways of being encouraging and “community-minded” without being untruthful.
4. I have made a good decision not to act in haste in my activities in the business. It has always taken me a long time to get comfortable, and even longer to find my way. That is a process of which I am still in the middle, and may or may not continue to be for some time.
5. In this business (much like in relationships… I wish I had known this earlier), there are situations that require your obsession, aggression, and persistence. There are also many, many situations that require your patience, passivity, contemplation, independent confidence, and willingness to walk away. Good judgment about which of these applies in a given situation comes only from experience. And experience comes – as they say – from bad judgment (or if you’re lucky, observing someone else’s bad judgment).
6. You can not judge what you wrote yesterday against something that a 20-year pro wrote and re-wrote with another pro many years and spins ago on their best day and expect to feel adequate.
7. You can not assume that you are as good as you are going to get and expect to want to continue.
8. You can not get better by sitting around thinking about it.
9. There are reasons why there is a songwriting “community,” and among them is not “so you can sit on half of a great song wondering when the rest of it will become obvious.”
10. If it sounds like something that "could be on the radio right now," then it is probably two years behind its time.
I very strongly believe that the decision to move was a very very good one. But in all honesty, if I had known two-and-a-half years ago that things would be as they are now, I am not sure that I would have made the move. It's a good thing I did it when I did.
1. This business is huge. There are simply a lot of people in the game… way too many to meet.
2. Among those many are some incredibly talented people, and a few not-so-talented people. Many of the talented people won’t make it, and a few of the not-so-talented people will. Even if you are very talented, work very hard, treat people right, and follow the steps you’re supposed to follow, there is a distinct possibility that you will not make it. The cost of the attempt is that it takes a long time with no guarantees.
3. There are ways of being encouraging and “community-minded” without being untruthful.
4. I have made a good decision not to act in haste in my activities in the business. It has always taken me a long time to get comfortable, and even longer to find my way. That is a process of which I am still in the middle, and may or may not continue to be for some time.
5. In this business (much like in relationships… I wish I had known this earlier), there are situations that require your obsession, aggression, and persistence. There are also many, many situations that require your patience, passivity, contemplation, independent confidence, and willingness to walk away. Good judgment about which of these applies in a given situation comes only from experience. And experience comes – as they say – from bad judgment (or if you’re lucky, observing someone else’s bad judgment).
6. You can not judge what you wrote yesterday against something that a 20-year pro wrote and re-wrote with another pro many years and spins ago on their best day and expect to feel adequate.
7. You can not assume that you are as good as you are going to get and expect to want to continue.
8. You can not get better by sitting around thinking about it.
9. There are reasons why there is a songwriting “community,” and among them is not “so you can sit on half of a great song wondering when the rest of it will become obvious.”
10. If it sounds like something that "could be on the radio right now," then it is probably two years behind its time.
I very strongly believe that the decision to move was a very very good one. But in all honesty, if I had known two-and-a-half years ago that things would be as they are now, I am not sure that I would have made the move. It's a good thing I did it when I did.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Truth in greeting cards
Well, Adam H. sent this to me, and he didn't put it on his blog, so I am putting it on mine. Here are several particularly strong greeting cards from someecards.com (Motto: "When you care enough to hit send."). How about five that would be appropriate from me to a few people I know? Who would get which and why will be left up to your imagination. Sorry in advance for pissing you off if you think one is intended for you... it probably is.
Card #1
Card #2
Card #3
Card #4
and finally, Card #5.
PS - I have been debating about whether to accompany this story (which took place just outside my actual childhood hometown) with a headline contest or a monologue questioning why so many people still think that their government can somehow be trustworthy. I'm going with the headline contest if you've got something.
Card #1
Card #2
Card #3
Card #4
and finally, Card #5.
PS - I have been debating about whether to accompany this story (which took place just outside my actual childhood hometown) with a headline contest or a monologue questioning why so many people still think that their government can somehow be trustworthy. I'm going with the headline contest if you've got something.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Mr. Jack
I can only add two things to what Russ had to say:
1. It will change the way you drink whiskey.
2. Here's what I got with the $60 I spent but did not have.
Actually Russ bought the bottle, and we didn't get it there. But we did spend quite a bit of time sampling the product once we got back. That's what was left of the bottle.
1. It will change the way you drink whiskey.
2. Here's what I got with the $60 I spent but did not have.
Actually Russ bought the bottle, and we didn't get it there. But we did spend quite a bit of time sampling the product once we got back. That's what was left of the bottle.
Friday, May 18, 2007
I have so been tagged
Traci tagged me to complete the "8 Things" meme, which theoretically requires me to complete the requirements and then tag 8 other people to do the same. I, however, am a bit of a party pooper when it comes to things of this nature. Because I know the people who read this blog, I would guess that 80-90% of you will respond to the message that you have been tagged with a loud verbal "What the f*ck!??? Come on, Brett! Really. Really?" And then you won't think I am cool, and I am not ok with that.
However, I can not say "no" to Traci... partially because she is smarter than I am (I am simultaneouly intimidated by and attracted to smart women... a true double whammy), partially because someone supposedly under my charge was somewhat responsible for her unfortunate #5, partially because it might be in my best interest, and partially because bullets are soooooo April 2007.
So instead, I will "suggest" that a few people undertake this, and let Darwin do the rest. 8 random facts about you... blog about 'em, preferably with details containing sexual, violent, or gossip-laden undertones...tag recommend the exercise to someone else (preferably someone who either doesn't blog enough or wasn't around for the last such exercise... I'm going < 8), and let them know about it... watch the words as they fly through the internet.
The facts:
1. I have three permanent scars above my neck:
- One on top of my head from falling in my elementary school hall on the way to day-care in second grade.
- One on stage right of my forehead. My dad pulled a napping Brett from the back seat of the car when I was three-years old and, thinking I was awake, set me down in a standing-like position. The wheel of his mid-70's Buick Century interfered with the path of my forehead to the ground.
- One on stage left on my cheek. My face was cut open by the teeth of a baseball teammate diving for a fly ball in a scrimmage game in fifth grade. I am horribly self-conscious about it, which is why I don't tend to smile a lot (I only see it when I smile) and why I mistakenly think growing a beard is a good idea every few years.
2. When I hear dummy lyrics to a song I'm writing, they are real words but they make no sense. One I'm working on right now has the dummy lyrics, "Rides like hell, burning like a lizard in an old man's shoe." I know. I know.
3. I hate my apartment but I need to stay in it one more year. The AC is so loud, however, that it is literally becoming a cliche. When it comes on, I have more than once caught myself saying, "Oh, puhhhllllleeeeaaaazzzzeeee!" Again, I know.
4. I get tv crushes on women who are not the normal tv crushes. Here are four of them:
- The Movie Star
- The Domestic Woman
- The TV Personality
- The Singer
5. Whenever I instant message anyone, I always think it's a nuisance. When I get a phone call about business without an advance email, text, or IM, I also almost always think it's a nuisance.
6. I think I can tell if someone has bad breath just by looking at them.
7. I almost always despise working in groups, and pretty much have from the start. The first time I ever cursed was when my second-grade teacher assigned a group project. I think I almost always work better alone and slowly.
However, in extreeeeeemely rare circumstances I find working with an individual to be far superior to working alone. I can count those times on one hand, and sometimes it feels like that is what I am looking for when I'm just looking around.
8. When I remember things I miss, I remember very tiny real or combinations of similar instances and the feeling that accompanies them. I spend a significant amount of my thought and energy attempting to recreate or improve upon those moments. Examples would include:
- The last 4 notes of Chorale #3.
- My grandfather laughing.
- The moment right after the "money line" of your best song, from behind the guitar.
- The vacuum of activity in the rest of the world that comes with a first kiss.
- The taste of Big League Chew, as my Mom and I were walking out of Food Town.
- Catching a glimpse through the portals of the seats in Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium for the first time.
- The first sip of Jack and Coke on a spring or fall evening in downtown Athens, followed faithfully by the words, "Well, how are ya'?"
- Diesel fumes three minutes before the buses leave for home.
- My first and last names called out from a distance from an old friend I haven't seen in years, as though they aren't sure that I am alive but that they're glad I am.
Who should do this?
- Scorley
- Hagood
- Adam H.
- Anyone who doesn't like dead kittens
Participating in the re-tagging pyramid scheme not necessary.
However, I can not say "no" to Traci... partially because she is smarter than I am (I am simultaneouly intimidated by and attracted to smart women... a true double whammy), partially because someone supposedly under my charge was somewhat responsible for her unfortunate #5, partially because it might be in my best interest, and partially because bullets are soooooo April 2007.
So instead, I will "suggest" that a few people undertake this, and let Darwin do the rest. 8 random facts about you... blog about 'em, preferably with details containing sexual, violent, or gossip-laden undertones...
The facts:
1. I have three permanent scars above my neck:
- One on top of my head from falling in my elementary school hall on the way to day-care in second grade.
- One on stage right of my forehead. My dad pulled a napping Brett from the back seat of the car when I was three-years old and, thinking I was awake, set me down in a standing-like position. The wheel of his mid-70's Buick Century interfered with the path of my forehead to the ground.
- One on stage left on my cheek. My face was cut open by the teeth of a baseball teammate diving for a fly ball in a scrimmage game in fifth grade. I am horribly self-conscious about it, which is why I don't tend to smile a lot (I only see it when I smile) and why I mistakenly think growing a beard is a good idea every few years.
2. When I hear dummy lyrics to a song I'm writing, they are real words but they make no sense. One I'm working on right now has the dummy lyrics, "Rides like hell, burning like a lizard in an old man's shoe." I know. I know.
3. I hate my apartment but I need to stay in it one more year. The AC is so loud, however, that it is literally becoming a cliche. When it comes on, I have more than once caught myself saying, "Oh, puhhhllllleeeeaaaazzzzeeee!" Again, I know.
4. I get tv crushes on women who are not the normal tv crushes. Here are four of them:
- The Movie Star
- The Domestic Woman
- The TV Personality
- The Singer
5. Whenever I instant message anyone, I always think it's a nuisance. When I get a phone call about business without an advance email, text, or IM, I also almost always think it's a nuisance.
6. I think I can tell if someone has bad breath just by looking at them.
7. I almost always despise working in groups, and pretty much have from the start. The first time I ever cursed was when my second-grade teacher assigned a group project. I think I almost always work better alone and slowly.
However, in extreeeeeemely rare circumstances I find working with an individual to be far superior to working alone. I can count those times on one hand, and sometimes it feels like that is what I am looking for when I'm just looking around.
8. When I remember things I miss, I remember very tiny real or combinations of similar instances and the feeling that accompanies them. I spend a significant amount of my thought and energy attempting to recreate or improve upon those moments. Examples would include:
- The last 4 notes of Chorale #3.
- My grandfather laughing.
- The moment right after the "money line" of your best song, from behind the guitar.
- The vacuum of activity in the rest of the world that comes with a first kiss.
- The taste of Big League Chew, as my Mom and I were walking out of Food Town.
- Catching a glimpse through the portals of the seats in Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium for the first time.
- The first sip of Jack and Coke on a spring or fall evening in downtown Athens, followed faithfully by the words, "Well, how are ya'?"
- Diesel fumes three minutes before the buses leave for home.
- My first and last names called out from a distance from an old friend I haven't seen in years, as though they aren't sure that I am alive but that they're glad I am.
Who should do this?
- Scorley
- Hagood
- Adam H.
- Anyone who doesn't like dead kittens
Participating in the re-tagging pyramid scheme not necessary.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
The Bluebird
It has now been over ten years since I began making the trek to the Bluebird C@fe. My first trips were in the middle of college. Sometimes I came by myself, and other times I had as many as three friends with me.
We would leave Athens at 1:00 PM on a Monday and arrive at the front of the room just in time to get my name on the list for the 0pen mic night. Usually, however, there were enough people in front of you who didn't get to play the previous week that you left only with the experience of having been an audience member and a slip of paper that moved you to the front of the line the next time you came to play. So in essence, you had to make the ten-hour round trip once just in order to get the privilege of playing your two songs the next time you made the ten-hour round trip. Nevertheless we did it several times during college. We were usually home by 1:30 the next morning, and we usually (read "rarely") made it to class the next morning.
Over the years, the place has alternately thrilled and disappointed me through no fault of its own. Just as the industry ebbs and flows, so does the quality of the artistry that it produces, and thus also does the intensity of fascination with said artistry and the venues that offer it. I was back there tonight to hear a friend and c0-writer, on a night that normally doesn't bode well for crowds in Nashville. I heard some very nice stuff, and had some realizations about the business and my place in it or not in it that will remain private.
All that is to say that my appreciation for the little joint is on the positive end of the curve right now. I will probably go back soon, perhaps with you. Maybe you'll even stop in to see me there someday soon.
But if you never make it by, hopefully you will at least get to drive past it to see it in its own environment. Though I'm sure this is a mountain of a molehill, I have always found the setting of the Bluebird to be a highly appropriate symbol of the relative insignificance of even the biggest participant in the business of music.
First, the view from the front of the unofficial mecca of s0ngwriting (Sorry... you can't read the banner for the glare... It says "The Bluebird C@fe").
And now the view from fifty yards away, still within the confines of the strip mall in which the Bluebird sits (It's the little blip of light shaped like a backward "7" just to the right of the center of the picture).
)
Just something to remember, whether you're the next Santana or the next Sanjaya.
We would leave Athens at 1:00 PM on a Monday and arrive at the front of the room just in time to get my name on the list for the 0pen mic night. Usually, however, there were enough people in front of you who didn't get to play the previous week that you left only with the experience of having been an audience member and a slip of paper that moved you to the front of the line the next time you came to play. So in essence, you had to make the ten-hour round trip once just in order to get the privilege of playing your two songs the next time you made the ten-hour round trip. Nevertheless we did it several times during college. We were usually home by 1:30 the next morning, and we usually (read "rarely") made it to class the next morning.
Over the years, the place has alternately thrilled and disappointed me through no fault of its own. Just as the industry ebbs and flows, so does the quality of the artistry that it produces, and thus also does the intensity of fascination with said artistry and the venues that offer it. I was back there tonight to hear a friend and c0-writer, on a night that normally doesn't bode well for crowds in Nashville. I heard some very nice stuff, and had some realizations about the business and my place in it or not in it that will remain private.
All that is to say that my appreciation for the little joint is on the positive end of the curve right now. I will probably go back soon, perhaps with you. Maybe you'll even stop in to see me there someday soon.
But if you never make it by, hopefully you will at least get to drive past it to see it in its own environment. Though I'm sure this is a mountain of a molehill, I have always found the setting of the Bluebird to be a highly appropriate symbol of the relative insignificance of even the biggest participant in the business of music.
First, the view from the front of the unofficial mecca of s0ngwriting (Sorry... you can't read the banner for the glare... It says "The Bluebird C@fe").
And now the view from fifty yards away, still within the confines of the strip mall in which the Bluebird sits (It's the little blip of light shaped like a backward "7" just to the right of the center of the picture).
Just something to remember, whether you're the next Santana or the next Sanjaya.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Not much to tell...
• I am home again, and actually don't have to travel again for a couple of weeks. I am more pleased than I can possibly tell you, but I'm also completely exhausted.
• I finally got around to seeing The Godfather Part II last week, having only seen The Godfather last October. The more I think about it, the more I realize that both are films that are so great that they ruin all other films (like Steely Dan is to music, or Sorkin is to television). If you haven't seen them (and I know you are out there), hurry up and do it before the war.
• If you're like me (and that seems highly unlikely), you are frequently disturbed by what is sometimes referred to as "Art." In my prior job, I spent an awful lot of time mumbling under my breath about the king's nudity. I recently ran across an article written by one of my songwriting heroes about what is and isn't Art. After reading it, I feel justified in my cynicism.
• I'm restless, but I don't feel like moving.
• I am home again, and actually don't have to travel again for a couple of weeks. I am more pleased than I can possibly tell you, but I'm also completely exhausted.
• I finally got around to seeing The Godfather Part II last week, having only seen The Godfather last October. The more I think about it, the more I realize that both are films that are so great that they ruin all other films (like Steely Dan is to music, or Sorkin is to television). If you haven't seen them (and I know you are out there), hurry up and do it before the war.
• If you're like me (and that seems highly unlikely), you are frequently disturbed by what is sometimes referred to as "Art." In my prior job, I spent an awful lot of time mumbling under my breath about the king's nudity. I recently ran across an article written by one of my songwriting heroes about what is and isn't Art. After reading it, I feel justified in my cynicism.
• I'm restless, but I don't feel like moving.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
The last of my "weekend" escort jobs (not what you think... if only it were) begins today. Pigeon Forge and memories of a lifetime are the destinations (pffft) Thursday through Saturday.
Musically, this has been one of the most interesting weeks in memory. My musical confidence has swung from a big high Saturday evening, to a pretty brutal low Monday morning and then back up Tuesday afternoon. If you have ever tried to write music of any kind, you know that confidence makes or breaks your productivity. It has done both so far this week.
And in other news, it is so on.
Musically, this has been one of the most interesting weeks in memory. My musical confidence has swung from a big high Saturday evening, to a pretty brutal low Monday morning and then back up Tuesday afternoon. If you have ever tried to write music of any kind, you know that confidence makes or breaks your productivity. It has done both so far this week.
And in other news, it is so on.
Sunday, May 06, 2007
Two pictures from the second Charlotte trip
I still giggle like a middle school trumpet player every time I see this.
)
Oh, and apparently the state of North Carolina finally has that whole time travel thing down. (Click it and read carefully)
)
Where we're going, we don't need roads.
Also, I reeeeaaaalllly want to meet the person who first thought it was a good idea to memorialize a dead friend with a decal on the back of their car.
Oh, and apparently the state of North Carolina finally has that whole time travel thing down. (Click it and read carefully)
Where we're going, we don't need roads.
Also, I reeeeaaaalllly want to meet the person who first thought it was a good idea to memorialize a dead friend with a decal on the back of their car.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
This is one of those rare times that I am going to blog simply to do so and, I guess, to document that I have nothing about which to blog. Between running to Charlotte or Pigeon Forge on the weekends for one job, and busting my tail to get work done the rest of the week for the other, I'm just thinking of work most of the time and not really of anything that would interest you. I'm sure that will change soon.
Friday, April 27, 2007
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Virtual Attic
I cleared all of the photos out of my phone this evening, just in case I want to take any pictures in Charlotte (riiiiiiiiight).
Enjoy...
Drummers from the random meeting at the indoor show in Franklin. I will introduce them as though they are Monkees, and as if you don't know them. You probably do.
Eric M.(who incidentally never seems to remember me when he sees me someplace where we're not both drinking).
Lance
Dave
Giant Happy Keith
Rob, of "My uncle is a dick. What is this box for?" fame. He also used to play at the Tate Show.
Leigh. Not technically a drummer.
More New York (As though you really needed to see more)
The silver dude doing his thing. Moments after this, he flicked off a pre-teen-aged girl. It was awesome.
The Brooklyn Bridge.
Scient0logy from a different perspective.
A random picture from my parents' new land near Nashville.
DC: The basics
The National Mall, much like your local mall, is a little worn and unkempt in places.
Enough said.
Abe
I will tell you what this building is when I get back from recess.
A really rushed pic of the White House from the south (by the Washington Monument).
The White House from the north (Lafayette Park). Someone was at the door the whole time, as though they were expecting company.
My maternal grandfather's entry in the World War II veteran's registry.
DC: The Trivial
Read closely. Even our nation's most respected treasures aren't immune to blatant commercialism. Every time I saw something like this, I thought back to "Freedom Fries," and wondered if there weren't more opportunities for endorsement of food products by American institutions and principles. Perhaps Habeas Corndogs or High Crimes and MisdeMeatloaf. Bill of RiceCake, anyone?
Found this, and the next three items, in the Nati0nal Museum of Natural Hist0ry. Upon seeing this I thought, "Well then who in the hell invented the internet?"
I realize that this is the cyber-peer of farting or talking about boobies... but the barely readable caption on the label is "Günther's Dik-dik," which I had never heard of.
This one you have to look at just right. I did, and I saw an iceman in Vict0ria's Secret.
Enjoy...
Drummers from the random meeting at the indoor show in Franklin. I will introduce them as though they are Monkees, and as if you don't know them. You probably do.
Eric M.(who incidentally never seems to remember me when he sees me someplace where we're not both drinking).
Lance
Dave
Giant Happy Keith
Rob, of "My uncle is a dick. What is this box for?" fame. He also used to play at the Tate Show.
Leigh. Not technically a drummer.
More New York (As though you really needed to see more)
The silver dude doing his thing. Moments after this, he flicked off a pre-teen-aged girl. It was awesome.
The Brooklyn Bridge.
Scient0logy from a different perspective.
A random picture from my parents' new land near Nashville.
DC: The basics
The National Mall, much like your local mall, is a little worn and unkempt in places.
Enough said.
Abe
I will tell you what this building is when I get back from recess.
A really rushed pic of the White House from the south (by the Washington Monument).
The White House from the north (Lafayette Park). Someone was at the door the whole time, as though they were expecting company.
My maternal grandfather's entry in the World War II veteran's registry.
DC: The Trivial
Read closely. Even our nation's most respected treasures aren't immune to blatant commercialism. Every time I saw something like this, I thought back to "Freedom Fries," and wondered if there weren't more opportunities for endorsement of food products by American institutions and principles. Perhaps Habeas Corndogs or High Crimes and MisdeMeatloaf. Bill of RiceCake, anyone?
Found this, and the next three items, in the Nati0nal Museum of Natural Hist0ry. Upon seeing this I thought, "Well then who in the hell invented the internet?"
I realize that this is the cyber-peer of farting or talking about boobies... but the barely readable caption on the label is "Günther's Dik-dik," which I had never heard of.
This one you have to look at just right. I did, and I saw an iceman in Vict0ria's Secret.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Just plain bullets
• Yay for GeorgiaGirl, and her impending recovery. Also yay for Galarza surviving to her birthday this year. Also yay for Dave and Bean for coming back south, Trina for removing a portion of the thorn from her side, Big Oob for the beer he bought me last week, Probst for his hoop-jumping being nearly finished, and to Warren T for having reasons not to blog. Also yay for spring... and peanut butter.
• Because Gunner's blog is down, I will have to post my latest haiku for him on my own blog. (*Insert sound of clearing throat*)
• It has begun to occur to me recently that the dumbing down necessary when writing a song for popular consumption involves more than just avoiding big words. That is getting more and more difficult.
• I recently grew a beard, much to the delight of Big Oob. Then he called me Chris Elliot in the parking lot of his school, which I thought was funny. I called him the OxiClean Guy.
Then, I was at a bar the other night, and the only thing anyone bothered to say to me was to ask me if I was told that I looked like Chris Elliot a lot. I was a good sport as usual, but then I remembered why I shaved my beard the last time...
and out comes the razor again.
I mean come the hell on!!!! Wouldn't you have a complex? At least Gunner's doppelgänger's character is a marine who gets to yell at people a lot and has the cute wife (I do not mean Delta Burke).
• I have two brief Charlotte trips remaining on my schedule, then I finally get almost a whole straight month in which to finish the bulk of the rest of my work for the year.
• AMC seems to have become a much cooler channel over the last several months. I'm not sure if it's because they have changed what they broadcast (er, transmit) or if it's because I'm getting older.
• Because Gunner's blog is down, I will have to post my latest haiku for him on my own blog. (*Insert sound of clearing throat*)
Boo ooo ooo ooo ooo
Boooooooo ooo ooo ooo boo ooo oooooo
Booooooooooooooooo ooooooo oooo damnit
• It has begun to occur to me recently that the dumbing down necessary when writing a song for popular consumption involves more than just avoiding big words. That is getting more and more difficult.
• I recently grew a beard, much to the delight of Big Oob. Then he called me Chris Elliot in the parking lot of his school, which I thought was funny. I called him the OxiClean Guy.
Then, I was at a bar the other night, and the only thing anyone bothered to say to me was to ask me if I was told that I looked like Chris Elliot a lot. I was a good sport as usual, but then I remembered why I shaved my beard the last time...
and out comes the razor again.
I mean come the hell on!!!! Wouldn't you have a complex? At least Gunner's doppelgänger's character is a marine who gets to yell at people a lot and has the cute wife (I do not mean Delta Burke).
• I have two brief Charlotte trips remaining on my schedule, then I finally get almost a whole straight month in which to finish the bulk of the rest of my work for the year.
• AMC seems to have become a much cooler channel over the last several months. I'm not sure if it's because they have changed what they broadcast (er, transmit) or if it's because I'm getting older.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Damn the torpedoes! Full Speed Ahead!
I can obviously say nothing that will come close to making sense out of what happened in Blacksburg yesterday. Some others to your right have already written rather eloquently, so I won't.
I would like to comment on the approach that these particular victims have taken in contrast with the way many seem to meet negative events these days. On an almost daily basis, I worry about my colleagues in whatever generation it is we find ourselves classified. And when I do, I worry most that I am one of a generation of quitters. I worry that we all too frequently walk away when things get rough, that we choose termination of a person or experiment over forgiveness and the opportunity for redemption, and that we would prefer a sterile, safe, and fearless existence to one of engagement, intense pleasure and pain, and the opportunity for progress. (For the record, as this principle concerns one's dating life, I could probably stand a dose of my own medicine).
I think the surest route to that sterile existence is the removal of every offensive, dangerous, and risky element from our lives. When no one speaks, none can be offended. When there is no sun-bathing, there will be no skin cancer. When no one drives fast, there will be no speed-induced accidents. When there are no guns, there will be no shootings... or so the extension of this thinking goes.
For that reason, I couldn't have been more pleased to see the Virginia Tech community respond the way it did. While there are a few (mostly press) people pointing fingers, most are trying to find a way to recover - to be honorable of the memory of the dead, to grieve appropriately and without self-serving public demonstrations of emotion, and then to move on with life with a greater appreciation for its brevity and value. Few are placing the blame on guns, the administration, the police, or anything else. They know that no sense can be made of this tragedy, and that any attempt to place blame is rooted in falsehood and empty symbolism.
But they also seem to know that the freedom that makes things like this possible is the same freedom that makes an American life so full. The freedom of speech that facilitates a person's being offended is the same freedom of speech that brought us Vonnegut, Woodward and Bernstein, "The Devil Went Down to Georgia," and "South Park." The freedom from unreasonable search and seizure that makes the safety of our skies tenuous at best is the same freedom that keeps Rosco P. Coltrane from "finding" some blow in your glove compartment. And yes, the right to bear arms that allows a loner to take 32 innocents with him is the same one that keeps individual agents of the government in check and makes the prospect of foreign invasion ridiculous.
Like it or not, the leading cause of death is life itself.
I had a bit of my confidence in my generation restored when I heard the determination in Professor Giovanni's words:
I admit that I lost it when the crowd began to cheer, and then to chant, "Let's Go Hokies."
Someone got hurt and decided not to quit. Someone suffered a horrible wound, and decided it wasn't worth laying down over. Someone decided to live, in spite of the fact that living guarantees more pain.
These days, that's news.
I would like to comment on the approach that these particular victims have taken in contrast with the way many seem to meet negative events these days. On an almost daily basis, I worry about my colleagues in whatever generation it is we find ourselves classified. And when I do, I worry most that I am one of a generation of quitters. I worry that we all too frequently walk away when things get rough, that we choose termination of a person or experiment over forgiveness and the opportunity for redemption, and that we would prefer a sterile, safe, and fearless existence to one of engagement, intense pleasure and pain, and the opportunity for progress. (For the record, as this principle concerns one's dating life, I could probably stand a dose of my own medicine).
I think the surest route to that sterile existence is the removal of every offensive, dangerous, and risky element from our lives. When no one speaks, none can be offended. When there is no sun-bathing, there will be no skin cancer. When no one drives fast, there will be no speed-induced accidents. When there are no guns, there will be no shootings... or so the extension of this thinking goes.
For that reason, I couldn't have been more pleased to see the Virginia Tech community respond the way it did. While there are a few (mostly press) people pointing fingers, most are trying to find a way to recover - to be honorable of the memory of the dead, to grieve appropriately and without self-serving public demonstrations of emotion, and then to move on with life with a greater appreciation for its brevity and value. Few are placing the blame on guns, the administration, the police, or anything else. They know that no sense can be made of this tragedy, and that any attempt to place blame is rooted in falsehood and empty symbolism.
But they also seem to know that the freedom that makes things like this possible is the same freedom that makes an American life so full. The freedom of speech that facilitates a person's being offended is the same freedom of speech that brought us Vonnegut, Woodward and Bernstein, "The Devil Went Down to Georgia," and "South Park." The freedom from unreasonable search and seizure that makes the safety of our skies tenuous at best is the same freedom that keeps Rosco P. Coltrane from "finding" some blow in your glove compartment. And yes, the right to bear arms that allows a loner to take 32 innocents with him is the same one that keeps individual agents of the government in check and makes the prospect of foreign invasion ridiculous.
Like it or not, the leading cause of death is life itself.
I had a bit of my confidence in my generation restored when I heard the determination in Professor Giovanni's words:
We are alive to the imagination and the possibility
We will continue to invent the future
Through our blood and tears
Through all this sadness
We are the Hokies
We will prevail
We will prevail
We will prevail
We are Virginia Tech.
I admit that I lost it when the crowd began to cheer, and then to chant, "Let's Go Hokies."
Someone got hurt and decided not to quit. Someone suffered a horrible wound, and decided it wasn't worth laying down over. Someone decided to live, in spite of the fact that living guarantees more pain.
These days, that's news.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
You've Got To Be There
I'll be there. In fact I'll be there the last time Will wrote a meaningful entry in his blog.
The 25th anniversary of the opening is May 1. Was that President Reagan in mission control?
The 25th anniversary of the opening is May 1. Was that President Reagan in mission control?
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Pots, Stones, Kettles, and Glass Houses
I have really tried to avoid writing on this topic, but the stupidity on the American air (or cables) right now is stunning. I could write for hours about this, as I'm sure others could, but I'm going to try to get this down to a few points. (Ed.: I just finished writing, and I made a IV in the brevity caption.) I write in fear of your judgment, but I can't quit thinking about this without expressing it... and I live and work alone.
- What Imus said was stupid, ignorant, and wrong... like very stupid, very ignorant, and very wrong. Was it "unbelievable" or "shocking," as I have heard it described by television personalities and one presidential candidate? I don't think so. I can think of a few things that I have heard that I couldn't believe I had heard. I can think of a few things that I have heard that literally jolted me. This wasn't among them. Hyperbole doesn't make anyone's supposed outrage any more believable or influential as far as I'm concerned. (I could frankly never stand the mumbling of that guy anyway, and I never understood why anyone ever listened to him.)
- What he said really was a true shame. At a time when the citizens of our country can't help but get fatter and give our jobs away, it's more than a little unfortunate that student-athletes are belittled by (once-)respected personalities. If you have any idea how hard those people work, you know they deserve better.
- If something equally derogatory were said about me and my university paraded me in front of the press to try to evoke some sympathy and attention, I would walk away immediately. I do enough to embarass myself. I don't need anyone's help in finding pity from others.
- One of the players said she thought she had been "scarred for life." Scarred for life? By words? That a person said? Really? It sounds as though the "Sticks and Stones" verse should be reviewed in the literature department at Rutgers. These athletes may actually be scarred for life... they can never look at a naked woman again without being suspect. This woman is scarred a little bit (and I kinda like it). This guy's scarred a lot. You're not scarred. Someone said something insulting about you and it hurt your feelings. And if the mentors and administrators around you were concerned about your dignity, they might have helped you realize that before throwing you in front of the press.
- You can attempt to silence the words of those who disagree with you all you want. If you succeed, the only thing you have done is make sure that those who believe something incompatible with the mandated belief will not speak about it. It doesn't mean that they won't act on it. Better the devil you know...
- I am tired of our need to have perfect public personalities. (eh... truly a weak but thought-provoking link) I don't believe a good drummer who who says he didn't smoke pot at some point. I don't believe a good songwriter who says he hasn't gotten drunk and done something stupid. I don't want a girlfriend who hasn't done something that she wouldn't talk about in public. I don't want an offensive lineman who never commits holding. I don't believe a professor of divinity who says he has never questioned the existence of a deity. And I sure as hell don't trust anyone who says they have never felt ever-so-slightly fearful of or threatened by someone who looks differently than they do.
It shouldn't be about being perfect. It should be about management of our prejudices, temperance of our worst instincts with our intellects and experiences, and the growth and improvement that result when the revelation of our destructive beliefs is challenged in an open forum of free and uncensored speech. If we turn off the mic every time we hear something we don't like, nothing will change.
- What Imus said was stupid, ignorant, and wrong... like very stupid, very ignorant, and very wrong. Was it "unbelievable" or "shocking," as I have heard it described by television personalities and one presidential candidate? I don't think so. I can think of a few things that I have heard that I couldn't believe I had heard. I can think of a few things that I have heard that literally jolted me. This wasn't among them. Hyperbole doesn't make anyone's supposed outrage any more believable or influential as far as I'm concerned. (I could frankly never stand the mumbling of that guy anyway, and I never understood why anyone ever listened to him.)
- What he said really was a true shame. At a time when the citizens of our country can't help but get fatter and give our jobs away, it's more than a little unfortunate that student-athletes are belittled by (once-)respected personalities. If you have any idea how hard those people work, you know they deserve better.
- If something equally derogatory were said about me and my university paraded me in front of the press to try to evoke some sympathy and attention, I would walk away immediately. I do enough to embarass myself. I don't need anyone's help in finding pity from others.
- One of the players said she thought she had been "scarred for life." Scarred for life? By words? That a person said? Really? It sounds as though the "Sticks and Stones" verse should be reviewed in the literature department at Rutgers. These athletes may actually be scarred for life... they can never look at a naked woman again without being suspect. This woman is scarred a little bit (and I kinda like it). This guy's scarred a lot. You're not scarred. Someone said something insulting about you and it hurt your feelings. And if the mentors and administrators around you were concerned about your dignity, they might have helped you realize that before throwing you in front of the press.
- You can attempt to silence the words of those who disagree with you all you want. If you succeed, the only thing you have done is make sure that those who believe something incompatible with the mandated belief will not speak about it. It doesn't mean that they won't act on it. Better the devil you know...
- I am tired of our need to have perfect public personalities. (eh... truly a weak but thought-provoking link) I don't believe a good drummer who who says he didn't smoke pot at some point. I don't believe a good songwriter who says he hasn't gotten drunk and done something stupid. I don't want a girlfriend who hasn't done something that she wouldn't talk about in public. I don't want an offensive lineman who never commits holding. I don't believe a professor of divinity who says he has never questioned the existence of a deity. And I sure as hell don't trust anyone who says they have never felt ever-so-slightly fearful of or threatened by someone who looks differently than they do.
It shouldn't be about being perfect. It should be about management of our prejudices, temperance of our worst instincts with our intellects and experiences, and the growth and improvement that result when the revelation of our destructive beliefs is challenged in an open forum of free and uncensored speech. If we turn off the mic every time we hear something we don't like, nothing will change.
Apparently I'm not the only one who enjoys making lists. Here are a few good ones to get you started.
Dr. Knight will really like this one.
Dr. Knight will really like this one.
Sunday, April 08, 2007
Other Than Myself
Below is another result of my incredibly annoying habit of making lists of random things. Today's installment is a list of people who - at this very instant - I would choose to be if I could choose to be someone other than myself.
12. Kevin Spacey
11. Abe Lincoln
10. John Wayne
9. Joe Montana (sans butt cut)
8. Tom Brokaw
7. Cal Ripken, Jr.
6. The male nearest Teri Hatcher when she decides she's lonely
5. Colin Farrell
4. Jack Nicholson
3. David Letterman
2. Leonard Bernstein
1. Frank Sinatra
Comment with your own if you feel like it.
12. Kevin Spacey
11. Abe Lincoln
10. John Wayne
9. Joe Montana (sans butt cut)
8. Tom Brokaw
7. Cal Ripken, Jr.
6. The male nearest Teri Hatcher when she decides she's lonely
5. Colin Farrell
4. Jack Nicholson
3. David Letterman
2. Leonard Bernstein
1. Frank Sinatra
Comment with your own if you feel like it.
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