Deafening Silence

If the sudden cessation of the usual stream of comments from my friends here is any indication, my last post must have been a bit over the top. Please know that my criticism is of the culture at large. There were no hidden jabs at my own family or any other family or individual. Really.

Also, I hope that there is a positive subtext there. It is possible to reject the way that we've been led to believe that Christmas must be. We can always choose to do it differently.

Christmas Day 3

Traditionally, Christmas was a twelve-day feast that started at sundown in Christmas Eve and went on through the Epiphany-- January 6th. People would hang out, eat food, sing to their neighbors, attend services, give a few simple gifts day by day, and generally have fun and take it easy.

Our consumer/capitalist culture has transfigured this very human affair into something with a very different time table. The first harbingers of the assault make their appearance in late August, just after the "Back to School" festival has ended. The first wave is subtle, after all-- the market days of Halloween and Thanksgiving are not to be eclipsed. Still the net is cast early, for every dollar is dear.

By careful orchestration, the festivities really take off the day after Thanksgiving, which now has its very own name, "Black Thursday". With this day of communal gathering at the local mall, the whole thing begins to ramp up to a fevered pitch that ends at precisely 11:00 AM on December 25th when all the purchases have at last been shorn of their concealing wrappings and an air of quiet disaffection begins to settle in.

Sometimes we extend the self-inflicted misery by volunteering to cook many complicated dishes for the Christmas meal. The stress causes us to become snappish and worried, the meal (however well executed) cannot make up for the deficiency of good karma. And then there is a mountain of dirty dishes to contend with. Fun!

The message here is mainly a negative rant. Fear no "Jesus is the reason for the season" agenda here. That particular blandishment really makes me wince. In a mere ten syllables it cheapens the whole thing just as badly as that awful image of a hatless Santa kneeling at the side of the manger.


My point here is simply this--- something that was supposed to be for us and for our benefit has been twisted into something that benefits a monstrous system--- and usually at our personal expense. It is hard to remain immune to its depredations.

Roots of the Dentones-- 1983

Satsy learns first guitar chord during senior year of high school.
Satsy moves to Austin and enrolls at University of Texas. Most time spent listening to Who records and trying to learn to play mother's Yamaha classical guitar. Learns some more chords and about 30 Beatles songs from songbooks.

Po, Mooky and Papoose are, by this time, the core of a budding band. Various people they play with include Pod, John Christy, and Chris Walker. Days Go By: Roots Rock Eventually they form "The Paisley Ascot" with James Moore.

Pod buys first electric guitar, an Aria SG copy and Peavey Bandit amp, from Glen’s Pawn shop on the square.

Pod buys Black and white telecaster from Snackplate. Snackplate tries to teach Pod his first chord and shakes his head in dismay and says, “Man, I don’t know” because Pod’s hands are too weak to make a barre chord for the first E chord of “Can’t Explain”.

Pod sells Aria SG and buys yellow 1972 Fender Stratocaster after chance encounter with person at Prodigal Sound Music. As of 2008, this is still his primary electric guitar.

Pod begins to hang out and jam often with Snackplate, Lonnie Gann, Joe Bleese, Jeff LaForte, Scott Marder, Craig Enos, (and a couple of times with Micheal Fabrizio, later Vegetarian Bluejay of Austin) mostly playing two hour versions of “Down by the River”.

Pod attends NTSU in the Fall and meets Kipp Schwalm in English class, they begin playing regularly and recording with a Fostex four track recorder.

Roots of the Dentones-- 1982

Spring- Po sees the Mudflaps (with Mike Austin, Les Black, and Donal Hinley) play "Suffragette City" in the DHS auditorium and is impressed by the sound of the bass guitar, which he had never before heard in a live, loud setting. Po (tuba) tells Mooky (trumpet) that if Mooky ever buys a guitar, Po will buy a bass.

DHS talent show also includes Matt Johnson’s band that plays “Freewill” by Rush.

Fall-- Po's brother Deeb buys a beginner's electric guitar and amp. Po is surprised at how cheap rock n' roll gear can be.

Late Fall, Po begins to buy a Kay bass guitar from Trey Darby on a payment plan. Mooky buys a guitar and an amp. In December they begin playing with BM and The Toy in an unheated shed in BM's backyard. The inside walls are covered with old, hippy-ish paintings from kids of the previous owners of the house. The Toy uses pots, pans, a Sprite bottle, and his motorcycle helmet as a drum kit.

Mudflaps play New Years Eve party at Pod’s house, put on by his brother D'Erik; hardwood floor is permanently damaged.

You're Joking!

At about noon today, as the family Thomassen was driving through the wilds and arid scrubland between San Angelo and Austin, Onni wanted Mila and me to entertain her with tales of our childhoods. "What theme?" I asked.

"Being lost." she entreated.

"Okay," I began, "Years and years ago, before I married Mommy, my family was in Germany. Daddy and Bump Bump and Granny Dolla and Uncle Deeb and Uncle Bunny were all driving through Germany..."

And here she interrupted with a tone of incredulity, "How many steering wheels did your car have?"

Roots of the Dentones-- 1981

1981
Satsy sees live band play at Michael's Arcade. Band consists of David Hineman, Robert Van Cleve, Eric Moorehead, and Scott Marder; plays "Summertime Blues" and "Breakin' the Law."
Po meets Pod in August when both are members of the Denton High School marching band. That same month, MTV debuts on cable television. Pod and Po remain only acquaintances for years. MTV slowly devolves into something that has little to do with music.

Roots of the Dentones- the 60s and 70s

Note: Most entries are in the words of the person they are about.

1964
Satsy and Pod born in Denton, Texas

1965
Po born in Atlanta, Georgia. Interesting note: Po is younger than Sandy Marshall.

1968
Big A born in Stillwater, Oklahoma

1969
Satsy given first guitar by father. Between now and 1983 would learn to tune.

1971
Po moves to Denton, Tx.

1974-75
Po takes piano lessons and writes his first song: "Cristobalito".

1975
Pod begins trumpet lessons with member of NTSU 1 o’clock lab band on his old high school cornet.

1976
Satsy attempts to write songs. At this point knows how to play recorder and some musical notation. Nothing ever completed. Nothing survives to present.
Pod plays trumpet in Woodrow Wilson Elementary School band, continues playing trumpet and taking lessons.

1977
Po begins learning trombone in the Frank Borman Elementary School band.

1978
Following his interest in lower tones, Po switches from trombone to tuba.

Feelin' Pink!

Last Monday at about 8:00 I got sick. It was like some invisible hand had hit a switch. Fine one moment, sore throat and a bit woozy the next.
I went to school Tuesday. It takes SO long to prep for a sub, that and Pops always taught us to play hurt. No wimps in the Thomassen household, by gum! We Norskies didn't....uh.... (what did the Norwegians do?)...uh... invent the paperclip by lying around sick in bed like a bunch of people who couldn't do something like that. Oh!

Mila, who had gotten sick a few days earlier with similar symptoms, went to the goctor on Wednesday (I think) and ere long was reaping the benefits of modern anti-biotics. I put off going. My goctor is far away and it was the holidays and, besides, how long can something like this last, anyhow?

Day 8 started today, and I woke up with pink eye and feeling quite low on energy. Headache, mild chills, sore throat. The last three I could deal with, but pink eye is supposed to be wildly contagious.

Okay. I complained.

Surprising Finds

The Protestant reformer Martin Luther was an often controversial figure. His support of the suppression of the rebelling German peasantry and his various anti-Semitic remarks are hard to reconcile with the many good things that he did that set the Western world on the path toward freedom of religion. I was aware of his fondness for good beer and his admonition that we "sin boldly", but apart from this first little aphorism I was not aware of the many words of wisdom that Luther had to offer.
============================================

Martin Luther:

Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree.


War is the greatest plague that can afflict humanity, it destroys religion, it destroys states, it destroys families. Any scourge is preferable to it.


In the true nature of things, if we rightly consider, every green tree is far more glorious than if it were made of gold and silver.


If you are not allowed to laugh in heaven, I don't want to go there.


When schools flourish, all flourishes.


Nothing good ever comes of violence.


Every man must do two things alone; he must do his own believing and his own dying.


God writes the gospel not in the Bible alone, but on trees, and flowers, and clouds, and stars.


I am more afraid of my own heart than of the pope and all his cardinals. I have within me the great pope, Self.


Let the wife make the husband glad to come home, and let him make her sorry to see him leave.


Music is the art of the prophets and the gift of God.


Peace if possible, truth at all costs.


Peace is more important than all justice; and peace was not made for the sake of justice, but justice for the sake of peace.


There is no more lovely, friendly and charming relationship, communion or company than a good marriage.


Whatever your heart clings to and confides in, that is really your God.


You are not only responsible for what you say, but also for what you do not say.


Everything that is done in the world is done by hope.


Pray, and let God worry.

A Wrinkle In Time

In 1994, this young man began writing and recording music for a new album with his band.



But he proved to be so difficult to work with that, one by one, his bandmates jumped ship. Abandoned but undeterred, this youthful rockster found new musicians and resumed recording "Chinese Democracy" in 1998. The record company offered a bonus of $1 million dollars if the album could be completed by March 1999.

Fourteen years after its inception and having racked up over $13,000,000 in studio fees, "Chinese Democracy" was released on Nov. 23, 2008, by this man...

Show this to your children so they don't do drugs.

Just Like the Old Days

Many years ago, before marriage and children had blessed our lives and the lives of our many friends, we created a rather large ersatz family. A dozen or more of us twenty-somethings would gather together frequently to share meals, celebrate birthdays, and, usually with the accompaniment of copious amounts of beer, mark the passage of time while enjoying each others' company.

Three quotes that stand out in my mind that define those days--

"It's only 12:30?!?! It's still EARLY!"
-Sean catching his second wind after midnight

"So, where's the party tonight?"
-Misty upon arriving at Haus Hopper after work on a weekday

"The Austin weekend starts on Thursday and ends on Sunday, and we practice for it on Wednesday."
-yours truly summarizing the general way of things at the time

We eventually grew up. We got married and created real families, and life got much, much better. Still, a part of me has missed the frequent gatherings. Others from our group have felt the same way. A couple months ago several people lamented our seeming lameness and complacency-- how easy it has been to give up trying to organize gatherings and to measure the time between social events in months rather than in weeks or days. Of course it cannot ever be like it was all those years ago, and indeed it really shouldn't be.

Happily, and counter to the trend of the last several years, this past month has been especially active: Party last month at Bookhart's. Party at Jeffry's watching Smash Riley. Party here eight days ago. Party at Pidge's two days ago. Party here again yesterday (okay, a Thanksgiving feast), and even more on the horizon!

In short, it has been rather like the old days.

Worst Song Ever!

I was shopping Kohl's tonight with Davis while Mila took Onni to her first Girl Scouts meeting. Department store music is generally pretty vapid, but this song struck me as especially awful.
Seeing the photograph on Youtube somewhat lessens the blow, so to feel full brunt of the tune's sheer mediocrity I suggest that you avert your eyes from the picture and instead imagine yourself strolling through aisles of clothing looking for something that even vaguely resembles the clothes in the newspaper insert that brought you to a big box department store in the first place.

This song is the soundtrack to disappointment.

Be patient, and don't be fooled by the somewhat cool (if ubiquitous) drums at the beginning. You must wait until 1:10 for this crap to reach its full crescendo of stank.

Time to Pretend

MGMT -- a recent find. May have to go out and buy their cd. Perfect example of synergy-- cool song + cool video = complete awesomeness

Do You Remember This Show?

Who's Your Little "Who's-It"?

Hurdy Gurdy Man

In July 2002, Mila and I traveled to Prague, with our guide the kindly Dr. Pheasant. The first night in the city we made our way through the winding Medieval streets to the famous bridge built in the 1300s by King Karel IV. It is a surprisingly wide bridge, flanked at intervals by towering statues of bishops and saints, and it was packed with people-- sight-seers mainly, but locals, too, and a few vendors and street performers- most memorably some fire jugglers who were, frankly, not very good. Dropped torches aside, the orange glow of their flames made the Medieval bridge and Medieval city, with its spectacular castle looming on the opposite bank, seem all the more... well... Medieval. But the piece de resistance of all this Medievalism was the eerie and haunting music that emanated from somewhere farther down the bridge. It sounded like an old woman singing through some sort of amplification. When we had finally snaked our way through the crowd to the source of the music, we were somewhat surprised to find that it was not a miked old woman but a middle-aged man singing just with his own voice-- no amplification.

Now, only six years later, Jiri Wehle looks quite a bit older, but as you listen to this recording, don't watch the video. Instead, imagine the scene I have described here-- the moving firelight, the ancient stone bridge, the illuminated castle on the hill and its reflected image, as if pixelated, scintillating on the surface of the Vltava River, the stone bishops, the cranking of the hurdy gurdy wheel.

Magical Prague.

Happy Days Are Here Again!

So long sad times
Go long bad times
We are rid of you at last
Howdy gay times
Cloudy gray times
You are now a thing of the past

Happy days are here again
The skies above are clear again
So let’s sing a song of cheer again
Happy days are here again

Altogether shout it now
There’s no one
Who can doubt it now
So let’s tell the world about it now
Happy days are here again

Your cares and troubles are gone
There’ll be no more from now on
From now on...

Happy days are here again
The skies above are here again
So, let’s sing a song of cheer again
Happy times
Happy nights
Happy days
Are here again!

Name That Tune

Leatherbag's "On Down the Line"


1. This song sounds an awful lot like--

A) "Roadrunner" by the Modern Lovers
B) "Sister Ray" by the Velvet Underground
C) "Wish You Were Here" by Pink Floyd
D) Both A and B

(Is this a good thing or a bad thing?)

Go Ask Alice

My dear,dear friend Lisa sent me this video today. She said it reminded her of the apartment that Marko and I shared off Enfield back in the 80s. I take that as a compliment!

Norton's Anthology

I guess it's a bit of a nerdish confession, but my favorite book for many years was my 1984 edition of the Norton Anthology of Poetry. I got it for a poetry class at TCU my freshman year in 1985 and glanced at it often enough to wear off its outer cover by the end of the decade.

One of my favorite poems in the anthology was "Suzanne Takes You Down" by Leonard Cohen. I liked it so much that in the early 90s I decided to write a song and use the poem for the lyrics. I did not know at the time that Cohen had already set it to music way back in the 60s.

When I found out, I wrote my own words and gave the original music a Bo Diddly beat. The name of the song comes from Mike, who gave a number of my songs non-sensical names that somehow stuck.

Lady Breaks Bread

I walked in the wake of the sad and the lonely.
I recall how my boots clicked against the paving stones
and echoed out loudly, and sharply, and clearly,
then faded away in the cold Polish dawn.

At the edge of the town where the trains were all waiting,
the brazen, exceptional strumpet appeared.
She said, "Well, well done, my good and faithful servant."
and the whistles screamed out in the grey morning air.

Well, I remember wine and roses
and I can still recall the cool, electric thrill
of the first time I ever saw you--
you were so seductive and invitational.

We rode through the night in the pine woods of Georgia,
so ghostly, so pale, immaculately clean.
The new moon hung low like a white shard of dresden,
and the earth thundered out beneath our horses' feet.

We hid in the dark at the edge of the clearing,
all eyes on the house, make sure everyone's asleep,
and Bobby Lee went up with our notice of eviction--
a homemade wooden cross and a jar of gasoline.

Well, I remember wine and roses
and I can still recall the cool, electric thrill
of the first time I ever saw you--
you were so seductive and invitational.

Elliot Smith-- Five Years Gone

Very hard to believe its been five years.

Blaze Foley Tribute & Fundraiser for the Homeless

Last week my friend and colleague Mickey White asked if I'd back him up on bass at a fundraiser at Ruta Maya. We had a twenty-minute practice on Tuesday after work-- more than enough time to work up "Larimer Street", "The Cuckoo", "Rex's Blues", "Going Down the Road Feelin' Bad", "Sweet Home Chicago", and a demi-medley of "I've Been Everywhere" and "When the Saints Go Marching In." Right?

Actually, I've played with Mickey twice before, and we'd done two of those tunes already, but more importantly, he's such a great musician that it's just easy to play with him. Ditto for his son, who plays drums.

In short, this evening was an absolute blast. We had a second guitarist and a saxophonist. The latter played with Townes Van Zandt back when Mickey played with him, and despite the fact that this gig WAS our rehearsal, it all came off very strong.

It was a little funny to be treated like a minor VIP. When I first got there one of the event coordinators sought me out and gave me a special bracelet that let me get free beer. It was also very cool to play for a large crowd that cheered enthusiastically between songs (for the wizardry of the guitarists and the saxophonist!). When we stepped off stage, one of the event organizers came up and asked me if I would sign some fliers that were going to be auctioned off. I declined, telling her that I was just a friend backing up the guy who had actually known Blaze Foley (we were listed as "Mickey White" after all) but she insisted. They wanted all the musicians to sign them.

Oddness, all of this. But I liked it!

The Evils of Drink

This cautionary tale chock full of charming little metaphors. One I cannot figure out is the odd little figure who likes to tap glasses of varying sizes and then quickly jump into them. Don't know what it means, but I love the image!

Poi Dog Pondering

Early spring semester, 1988.
West Mall of UT, very close to Guadalupe.

A few musicians are playing some rather unusual but upbeat music. A young man standing between the musicians and the crowd is singing loudly. He has dark, unkempt hair, a heavy afternoon shadow, and one of those Palestinian scarves that were so popular back then. He keeps his eyes closed and his feet together, and he lets his arms just hang down at his sides as he sings with great gusto. I admire his lack of self-consciousness. His natural talent is only middling, but his enthusiasm is endearing.

The song over, he squeaks away in his black army boots and disappears through the smallish crowd.

A young woman appears and sets down a violin case, from which she very quickly produces a violin. She snaps the case closed and takes her place among the remaining musicians. Another song is already in the offing. Seamless and seemingly spontaneous, too. The crowd grows by a few individuals, and everyone seems to enjoy the music and to be aware that this is something different.

The song over, I turn to the girl next to me in the crowd and ask who the band is.
"It's not a band, really," she explains, "It's just a group of friends who kind of come and go. They're called 'Poi Dog Ponder'[sic]."

Fast forward seven or eight months. I have graduated. I have spent most of a summer in Europe. I have returned to work briefly with the Job Corps before my move to Chapel Hill, North Carolina. The hot months of summer have come and gone. It is a cool October day, and I am at the corner of Columbia St. and Franklin listening to my car radio when a really cool song comes on. I speed on to the apartment on Jones Ferry Road, look up the phone number of the local radio station, and ask about the song. "Oh," the friendly college radio DJ replies, "It's called 'Pulling Touch' and it's by an Austin, Texas band called Poi Dog Pondering."

Wow! From the West Mall to college radio in a matter of months! Pretty cool! Plus it was a connection to Texas and to Austin that I was happy to make.

At some point I remember Big A telling me he had seen them on the steps of the West Mall playing the Velvets' "Pale Blue Eyes". Here is a video of them doing 'Living With the Dreaming Body' on Guadalupe.

Not sure what ever happened to the tussle-haired chappie who sang like a soulful borracho. I never saw him with the band again.

Here is singer Frank Orrall playing 'Pulling Touch' at a recent dinner party(?)... if you watch, give it a minute to rev up, then imagine that it has the energy and and vitality that twenty years have mellowed.

Fox Scat

On Friday a state investigator's report concluded that Republican vice presidential nominee Sarah Palin abused her power as governor and violated state ethics law by trying to get her ex-brother-in-law fired from the state police.

So, what was FOX news' story of the night? All night? Repeated over and over ad infinitum?

ACORN!

Hydrogen vs. Boost

Cute!

Youtube hit for "Dentones"

Be careful what you fish for on Youtube. Instead of the expected video short of those mild-mannered chappies from North Texas, I reeled in this whopper.

At least it made me laugh!

Portland biking. Not a rant. Really.

Should you wish to experience the bike ride that Bil and I took from Buckman across the river to the Brewers' Dinner, well, here it is.

At about 1:00 or so, the route diverges slightly. The video here skirts along the left side of the park where the festival was held, whereas we skirted its right-hand side along the Willamette River.

Snowing

(A song from 1992. Oddly enough, the impetus for writing this song was my recollection of an old, hand-written songlist from Syd Barrett's Pink Floyd that included a song called "Snowing"--of which I think there is no recording and of which, sadly, I have been unable to learn anything more. In the Spring of 1992 I decided to write a song called "Snowing" just to fill that gap for myself.)

"Snowing"

Greta do you want me? Tell me this
and I will be your faithful lover-
a face like yours could launch a thousand ships in me

I was in the wings when the world began-
never thought to darken heaven's door,
when the angels took their sides, I smiled and I walked away

it's snowing
it's snowing

I remember days in Eden's bliss,
and I knew Eve like no other
but I never felt like this till my eyes fell on you

so grace me with your smile, grace me with your touch,
grace me with your body if its not too much-
I'd spend an age chained to a rock
for just one night with you

it's snowing
it's snowing

bridge
Blessed, chill December afternoon-
surprised by joy, by joy again,
one word and my soul would be renewed
and let the world come flooding in

Greta do you want me? Tell me this
and I will be your faithful lover-
a face like yours could launch a thousand ships in me

I was in the wings when the world began-
never thought to darken heaven's door,
when the angels took their sides, I smiled and I walked away

it's snowing
it's snowing

Strange Day Today

(a song from about 1992)

out in back
cracked white columns stand
like sad old men in the Georgia sun

cat-quick
an open door
unseen I'm easing, stealing over the garden wall

and through an open window
an old victrola's strains
come drifing down in to the yard
through the noontime summer haze

and in an upstairs bedroom
unmindful of my gaze
she takes a long, hard drag on a cigarette
and a across the bed she lays

and I heard her say
"what a strange day today"
then I thought I might have heard her say
"what a strange day today,
all the pieces-- they're all here
but it's just not quite the same"
then I heard her say
"what a strange day today"

clamp down
snicker snack
like a vorpal blade like a big bear trap
on my mortal soul

how now
these second thoughts
these deepest fears
these darkest doubts crowd around my soul
all around my soul

the first time that I saw you
I was knocked right off my feet
you gave me five good reasons to believe
and six to turn and flee

now all around the border
the twisted wire gleams
like the long, cold blade of a bayonet
in a gun-freak magazine

and I heard her say
"what a strange day today"
then I thought I might have heard her say
"what a strange day today,
all the pieces-- they're all here
but it's just not quite the same"
then I heard her say
"what a strange day today"

The Tribe

I happened upon this smart little film quite by accident this evening. It is very well done and a pleasure to watch for its brilliant craftsmanship alone, though the topic (identity in the modern world-- specifically Jewish identity) is also very interesting and is rendered all the more so by the film maker's use of dry humor and clever visual puns juxtaposed with rather more serious material. It is long but well worth the time.

One final rant before a concerted effort at dormancy

A month out from our Oregon trip, Mila and I are still quite haunted by the experience. Perhaps even more so than when we first returned to Texas about three weeks ago.
We have visited many lovely places together-- the Czech Republic, Colorado, North Carolina, and New England to name a few, but we have never once been gripped by the desire to uproot and actually MOVE.

Until now.



Bil's and Carla's neighborhood (Buckman) is like Austin's Hyde Park--- lots of very cool old houses occupied by creative, community-conscious, left-leaning Gen X-ers--- but Buckman is bigger than Hyde Park and, quite unbelievably, slightly less expensive. The Lamar Blvd. equivalent is Hawthorne Street, but Hawthorne has Lamar beat 10:1 if you are scoring for cool bohemian shops in cool old bohemian buildings. There's just more of them. Plus you can walk to the grocery store AND to 20 pubs, according to Bil's neighbor Dave, though only two of them brew their own beer.
Categories for consideration:
Climate-- NW Oregon posts 222 overcast days per year. The general populace deals with this by consuming prodigious amounts of coffee and super hoppy beer. Carla maintains that the wet, cool climate jibes with her Celtic genes. We didn't fully realize the truth of what she said until we returned to the stifling humidity and blast-furnace temperatures of Central Texas, but Mila and I both felt that our Euro bodies were somehow more attuned to that place than to this one. I offer no explanation.

People-- I was raised to value friendliness, openness, and good manners and to identify these as Southern norms, and unfortunately I also have harbored the misconception that the opposite of these values were "Yankee" norms. Travel has done much to unravel most of this prejudice, especially in the cases of Wisconsin and Massachusetts (but not New York or Michigan, sorry to say). Having eschewed one prejudice I shall, perhaps, rush toward forming another, for we found the people in Portland to be, in the balance, much friendlier, open and helpful than what you might expect to find in Texas. I was (pleasantly) surprised, but it is true.
Portland seemed to be a city filled with educated people with a middle class (though NOT bourgeois) sensibility. From the bus drivers to the rental car lackeys to the librarians to the convenience store clerks, they all came off as more helpful, informative, and industrious than their counterparts in any other American city I have visited.

Crime-- Here's the rub. Crime seems to be a major problem in Portland. We had no sense of this while we were there as we felt perfectly safe the whole time. Safer, indeed, than we feel in Austin. We saw nairy a gaggle of loitering thugs and only heard gangsta rap blaring from a passing car once in 12 days. It seemed, as I have intimated, like a city comprised of bright, educated people.

Some of whom have major drug problems, it would seem.

One demographics website I found gave Portland a crime index rating of almost 450, when the national average is only 100 and our beloved little Round Rock is a paltry 39. Property crime is the main thing, I guess. Murders are rare. Heroine and meth addiction are persistent problems, and the addicts engage in a lot of thievery.

Jobs-- Mila and I have good jobs here that we have excelled at and can almost do in our sleep. Who wants to start afresh and lose time with family as you scramble to learn the ins and outs of a new career? Plus, due to higher cost of living, we would have to pull in $60,000 more than we do now to maintain our current lifestyle.

Other considerations-- Friends, family, housing costs, the Dentones...

We are in a sort of limbo.

Oregon Brewers' Festival

Okay, so this post is about 26 days after the fact, but so it goes. The Oregon trip left a huge impression-- as did the size and scope of the Brewers' Festival.Mila took this picture of me picking the brain of master brewer Corey, who is in the employ of the McMenamins operation--- more specifically brewing for Cornelius Pass Roadhouse. He was explaining to me how it is that a bock does not necessarily have to be dark and malty. He and I are sitting in the circle of chairs we adults (all friends of Bil and Carla) set up like a buffalo ring to protect our young, some of whom you can see sitting on the blankets at the bottom of the picture.

I took notes in the 70-page program that I got that day, and these I shall presently share with you below. But first I must add reference to this oddity of fortune. The official program includes of list of reputable beer blogs not only in the Pacific Northwest but in the whole nation. See if you can spot yours truly in the picture on this blog's entry for the Brewers Guild Dinner.

And now for our notes from that lovely day:

Mila--

1. Trumer Pils by Trumer Brauerei
"Good" "has Czech qualities"

2. Bayern Pilsener by Bayern Brewing
"clean, nice bite" (but later) "might taste like Coors Lite"

3. no notes

4. taste of Alaskan Summer Ale by the Alaskan Brewing Company
"fresh and clean like glacier water!"


Po--

1. Stone Levitation Ale by Stone Brewing Co.
"Fine!"
score 800 (out of 1000)

2. Bridgeport Hop Czar by Bridgeport Brewing Co.
"Great! Fresh and hoppy!)
score 800
(Note: the lines for this one grew long! prohibitively so!)

3. Pliny the Elder by Russian River Brewing Co.
"Excellent! Hoppy indeed, but not too bright! Carla dumped her habanero beer
when she had a sip of this!" Actually, she was about to dump it when I wrote that,
but Bil rescued it and actually liked it enough to order it at the Green Dragon a couple of nights later.
score 900

4. taster of Solar Flare Ale by Lucky Labrador Brewing Co.
"Got bcs. line was short. Not bad, but pales in the company of this fest"
score 500

5. taster of MacTarnahan's Slingshot Extra Pale Ale
"Does not seem like an extra pale ale"
score 450

Happy 28th, Miss LaToya!!!

LaToya had her 28th birthday last month, and we celebrated here with an old style mahaloo--- BYOB and BYOM (the latter stands for "Bring Your Own Meap"). You should definitely click on this top one to see what Fast Eddy has on his ears!
There was also a kegschen of Bitburger. (One never wants to run out of beverage at a mahaloo.) Red Steve and Miss Willow's beau, newly moved down from New England, hit it off at the bar.

It was really nice seeing Fast Eddy again. He was back on his feet after many long months of dealing with a herniated disc that was crushing a nerve.

The conversation was lively and entertaining. One would not wish for party chat to be otherwise!

Here you can see LaToya enjoying a plate of meap while Lady Willow brandishes her silverware at the photographer, obviously agitated about something. Perhaps it is because all that remains of her plate of meap is a barely perceptable yellowish stain--- enough to upset any woman of good standing and a reasonable degree of self respect.

Everyone had a great time, and it was nice seeing Curt and his wife Joannie. It was their first visit to our home, and Joannie announced that she was expecting their second baby. She had a strong feeling that it will be a boy, and two weeks later this was confirmed by her doctor.

Notes from the 2008 Oregon Brewers' Guild Dinner

Menu:
Smoked Salmon or Pork Tenderloin
Roasted potato & veggie medley
Roll and butter
Shakespeare Stout brownie

My beer-tasting notes- as written:

"Saw Full Sail brewer John Harris! He looks like David Marks!" now that David has grown a full beard

Alameda Brewhouse- Lucky Devil Belgian Golden Strong Ale
"slight metal with abrupt finish"

Full Sail Brewing Co.- Lizama Summer Dunkel Weizen
"taste obscured by food" (had a sip while eating dinner)

Double Mountain Brewery- Pils
"A bright, hoppy IPA!"

Deschutes Brewery- The Dissident Belgian Sour Brown Ale
"Yuck! Joke beer!"

Ninkasi Brewing Co.- Tricerahops Double IPA
"fresh, greenish-gold flavor"

Pelican Pub and Brewery-- India Pelican Ale
"hoppier and less complex than Tricerahops"

Ram Restaurant and Brewery- Barefoot Wit
"Ooops! Forgot what 'wit' was! Got used to it, though. Good!"

Ram Restaurant and Brewery- Palm Island Toasted Coconut Porter
"coconut? poor choice"

Rogue Ales--Rogue Imperial YSB
"Had 2!!! Great balance. Met brother of namesake"

Lompoc Brewing Co. - Heaven's Helles Lager
"ended with this--- a perfect ending!"

Welcome to Beervana!

The family flew up to Portland on July 23rd to visit some dear friends and take in the local scenery...and ales. What a place! In the next few posts I'll extol some of the many virtues of Oregon, but for now suffice it to say that Mila and I both feel like our return to Texas is like crawling up on some strange and inhospitable shore.

That first evening, Bil and I biked down to Tom McCall Park (passing a monument to the Bill of Rights!) for the Brewers' Guild Dinner. Only 600 tickets were sold, and Bil had managed to get us a pair-- tickets number 4 and 5, actually! The man is no slacker.

Bil shot the picture at the top with his cell phone fairly early in the evening, just after we had finished our dinner which featured smoked Columbia River salmon. Yum!

Each of us got 6 eight-ounce pourings-- mainly from the Pacific Northwest but there were a few from other regions as well. We also did a lot of sampling of each other's choices. Somewhere in our yet-to-be-unpacked luggage (maybe if we don't unpack the trip won't be over?) I have my notes from the evening, which will appear in a forthcoming post.

The weather was chilly even before sunset. In fact, our kiddoes Onni and Davis had put on sweaters back at the airport. With the sun going down and the temperature dipping into the 50s, Bil and I mounted up and returned to the eastside via the Steel Bridge. Gliding along the river in that heavenly cool air and watching the sun set behind the city was an experience I'll not soon forget.

This parade was held the next day, and even though we missed it, the spirit of the 4-day event is quite evident. Plus you can see the nifty festival mugs we each were issued.

So, how much does a pint cost in...

When we traveled in the Czech Republic in 2002, we thought we were in paradise. I mean, it is a very lovely country, and they make fantastic beer, and a pint of it cost a mere 80 cents. Sadly, that figure has doubled now, but it's still a heck of a bargain.

The average price for a pint here in Austin is $3-4. Still reasonable, but I do so long for dollar pint nights at Waterloo.

Meanwhile, our friend Karla is languishing in Norway, where the average price of a public pint will set you back almost $12.00!

For the average Norwegian, the price of beer is comparable to how it was for us when we were poor, starving college students. To wit--- the average salary in Norway is 320,000 Kroner, and a bargain pint might cost 50 Kroner. Thus, before facing the formidable Norwegian tax system, a Norsky could buy 6,400 pints of beer with his/her annual earnings. That's EXACTLY how many 75-cent Shiners I could have bought back in college with the money my folks sent me each year! Coincidence? I think not!

By comparison, the average American can afford to do a lot more bellying up here in the land of the free. Our average annual salary is $26,000* which can pull in 8,666 local pints before taxes.
Now, that's what I call an investment!

Check out more global pint prices here.

Grim footnote: With the current dismal exchange rate, the 320,000 Kroners the average Norwegian earns translates into $63,000 here.

*True average is more like $43,000 in the US, but this is thrown off by all the super fat cats. Take five blokes who make $15K and one who makes $200K, and the average of the group is over $45K. A bit misleading.

Hazard a Guess?

Can you complete the list below?

Fastest Growing Cities in the United States

1. New Orleans
2. Victorville, California
3. McKinney, Texas
4. North Las Vegas
5. Cary, North Carolina
6. Killeen, Texas
7. Port St. Lucie, Florida
8. Gilbert, Arizona
9. Clarksville, Tennessee
10. ??????????????

These Feet Were Made for Walking...

I don't know what I think about this recent offering.

It seems to be based on a program that ignores a lot of factors that are really important for the would-be walker, like a major highway or perhaps an impassable river. Case in point-- our local HEB is exactly two miles away by car, but Walkscore places it at only half that distance-- obviously taking the measurement "as the crow flies".

Still, it's worth a look, and it certainly seems to aimed at promoting a worthy cause.

And, by the way, our neighborhood scores an abysmal 14 points. It also sports at least 3 Hummers (amid an ocean of other SUV's), one of which has a custom-made Barbee wrap. Lord save us all!

How do we cope? Why, by reciting this mantra, of course! "Good schools, no crime, close to work. Good schools, no crime, close to work. Good schools, no crime, close to work. Good schools, no crime..."

Southern Town, Belgian Beer, Norwegian Price

Just got back last night from a fantastic family trip to North Carolina. More postings on that in the near future.

We found ourselves in Memphis Saturday evening at about supper time with two hours until boarding time, so we sauntered into a Memphis Blues-themed restaurant right there in the airport and had a real, sit-down meal right amidst all the hustle and bustle of a cross country sojourn with kids in tow.

The menu was promising, and the prices seemed reasonable---- for the locale. Just down the concourse they were selling single BBQ sandwiches for $7.50, so an entree on a real plate with real side dishes for $9.99 seemed like a steal. Consequently, I ordered a .5 litre (normal pints are about .4) glass of Stella Artois, which they had on tap. There was no price listed, which should have raised my suspicion. Should have.

Oh well, it was the end of our vacation, and the beer tasted like the very nectar of the gods... so golden, so crisp, so mellow and round. Mila happily helped me make it disappear, and then we decided to order another one.

The punchline: each beer cost $9.49. Do the math.

Ha ha!

Beware Hester's Crossing

May 30th was the last day of school. Because Mila was heading to a scrap-booking "crop" that evening, I picked up both girls and was looking forward to a quiet evening at home--- a nice way to inaugurate the summer.

When I got in, I saw that there was a message on the answering machine. It was Mila who, in a rather calm voice said, "Hi, Honey. I'm at the corner of Hester's Crossing and Rawhide, behind La Frontera... I think I pretty much totalled the van." And a bit more. Borrowed cell phone. Hope you get this message so you can come pick me up.

So, off I went, expecting to turn at Hester's Crossing and have to scan for Mila walking down a grassy slope from a parking lot where she and the other driver had maybe parked to share information and wait for the police. She would be waving her arms so that I would see her. I mean, she was so calm about everything. Certainly it wasn't too bad.

In the event, when I turned on the Hester's Crossing I saw a huge fire engine blocking the traffic and two police cars with their lights flashing. In the center of the intersection there was a white ambulance, also with blue lights ablaze. Presently our van hove into sight, merged front-to-front with a new white Dodge Calibre. The asphalt was wet with all sorts of liquid that was leaking from both vehcles.

As I got closer I saw that the airbags had deployed--- a most surreal vision. There had obviously been a pretty serious impact.

Mila was fine (thank goodness!) as so was the other driver (double thanks!)

Once all the formalities had been attended to, the wrecker hauled our fatally wounded van up on a flatbed and lugged it over to a loading area behind La Frontera for us to go over it like a pack of jawas picking out valuables and transferring them to our Nissan.

I took this picture when it was up on the wrecker, and I was later disappointed because the angle de-emphasizes the extent of the damage (windshield was cracked by the hood, Mila could barely open driver's side door, the exhaust system had dropped down and been shoved toward the rear) but, really, getting the perfect shot was quite far from my mind. In the end, there was only one thing that mattered as far as this whole incident was concerned.

Strong Voice Silenced Bright Light Dimmed

Austin native Shannon Leigh, 20, who began to rock the local slam poetry scene when she was only 14, has been in critical condition in a Florida hospital since a diving accident about three weeks ago. Today's paper says there are no longer any signs of brain activity and they are only keeping her on life support until her boyfriend can get there to say good-bye.

I am posting this video not for its content so much as for its sheer brilliance, most especially in light of her youth. When I was twenty I was incapable of anything of the sort.

Still am.

Show at the Carousel Lounge

The Dentones will be pairing up with the Love Vandals again this Friday at the Carousel Lounge. Our slot is from about 9:30 until midnight.

Come enjoy a cold beer and some cool tunes!

Aha!

Movie Reviews

If this is even true, it might help explain the woefully low number of visits and comments this blog tends to attract. It's probably just too much work to wade through all this "ho-hummery". Meanwhile, one of my favorite blogs out there was rated as "Junior High" which, though shocking, is much less so than the "Elementary School" rating given to a blog that I consider to be especially thoughtful and well-written.

Go figure.

BTW-- I have no idea what this "movie reviews" business is all about.

33 Days

Spring is over, though it did a pretty good job of preparing us for a nice, scorching Central Texas summer. The Heat Wave of 2008 will start its 33rd day tomorrow, and we have already had 15 days of triple-digit temperatures. The average for normal summer is just 11 for the WHOLE summer.

This doesn't bode well.

A first time for everything...

This is my first go at a meme. It's called the "Flikr Meme" and I got it from Bookhart.

Here's how to play:

a. Type your answer to each of the questions below into Flickr Search.
b. Using only the first page, pick an image.
c. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into fd's Mosaic Maker.

The Questions:

1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favorite food?
3. What high school did you go to?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. Who is your celebrity crush?
6. Favorite drink?
7. Dream vacation?
8. Favorite dessert?
9. What you want to be when you grow up?
10. What do you love most in life?
11. One Word to describe you.
12. Where are you from?

I'm Voting Republican

Thanks, Ann E. Willow, for this one!

Time to Come

It's been a long time since a post, but not a long time since the idea for a post has come my way from the ether. Sadly (and lamely), since these ideas have involved such things as downloading pictures from our camera, and I have done that fairly recently and have not cleared the memory chip and don't want duplicate files filling up our hard drive, I loop and loop again into a state of non-action.

So, here is my place-holder. A cheap and easy post.

In the early 90s our band had a back up singer who shall here be known as La Quekki. Among her many noteworthy attributes was a sort of bludgeon-like sexual aggressiveness that inspired the first (prosaic) line of this song. There really was a dream. There really was someone trying to push the envelope. However, there was never really any chance of any sort of "time to come" that involved La Quekki and Yours Truly.



Time to Come (1992)

I had a dream last night
and you were in it--
you held yourself right up to me and said
'come on and get it'
you said 'hey, boy'
'hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, boy'
and I said, 'yeah'

well now I must admit it was a temptation,
but let it come as no surprise or great revelation
that you really make my heart break
the way you underestimate
the time it takes just to sit and wait for the right time
time to come

bridge:
I cast my mind back through the years
and i racked my brain, trying to refind the essence of time that was gone.
And I stumbled as blind, with contempt for the day
looking over my shoulder with rose-colored glasses and frowns


even Solomon in all his glory
would never dare to shake a stick
at a morning glory--
the kind that we would just walk by
and even trample down,
the kind that we would just walk by
dreaming dreams of kings

I had a dream last night
and you were in it--
you held yourself right up to me and said
'come on and get it'
you said 'hey, boy'
'hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, boy'
and I said, 'yeah'
I said, 'yeah'
I said, 'yeah'
I said, 'yeah'

Sermon 1989

The following is the text of a sermon I heard in Hillsborough, North
Carolina in the Spring of 1989.

No kidding.
-----

People, you are not concerned in what you're doing in now! You are not
concerned in what you're doing in right now! When the world is going to
take care of itself, boy, is it going to take care of itself. And it's
going to take a year from now.

I'm the one who's going to pay the price for what I don't have, and I'm
going to get my life straightened out. Something is great, something can be
great, and I want it. That's what the world can have.

This is the kind of business I'm trying to be a friend in. This is the kind
of business I'm trying to be a friend in, and I am wanted!

There is one thing I really wanted to say in this world, and I couldn't get
a start.

This is how it spreads out, this is how it's going to spread out, and this
is how it really should spread out. When something is feeling in danger
and you don't know it, you've got to give this world a chance.

I want something to happen. I want nice things to happen. I show it that
way. I want more things to happen. I want nice things to happen because
it shows that. And you want things to happen for you and things to happen
for the world.

That's how you appreciate something-- you want it to happen. Now you know
it, that more things can happen. I know a change can happen. A change in
my life.

Behind the Scenes

For those of you who have braved your way to a Dentones show, I hope that the experience you have come away with is a jolly and blurry combination of fun, friends, and good conversation---- with some at-least-acceptable music from the band providing a soundtrack to all that.

So, in case you have ever wondered what a Dentones rehearsal is like, here is a snippet from Satsy's new invisible camera. This rehearsal was unusual, however, in that we invited veteran musician and all around nice guy Fred Rodriguez to sit in and provide feedback. He's a real guru.

Pink Bullets

A few years back, a fellow who happens to be a soldier in the Israeli army approached the Shins asking for permission to make a video for their song "Pink Bullets". They gave him a nod but didn't expect much. This little gem is the result.

Economic Stimulus Check

In recent weeks Mila and I have been wondering what we should do with our upcoming economic stimulus rebate. About the only thing we could decide on was that we should actually buy something rather than just squirrel the money away. We agreed that it would be nice to buy something that was made here in America, but then we realized that we really didn't need $600 worth of hamburgers.

Mistress Fortuna rescued us from our indecision last weekend when we discovered that our water heater was kaput. The tank had corroded through and a puddle of water was forming on the garage floor.

To make a long story short:
Price of a new water heater at Home Depot: $259
Charge for the RotoRooter man to hook it up: $459

This is all somehow rather unsatisfying.

Ah, Denton....

Not long into a YouTube search of topica Dentonica I came across this dubious tidbit and almost stopped watching right off---- that was, until it dawned on me that although this video was presumably shot only two years ago it betrays a sensibility that is at least 30 years behind the times. How typically "Denton"!

Usually, this special form of cultural retardation manifests itself simply as a rather poor and out-dated selection of jukebox offerings that are weighted toward the Heavy Metal end of things. But in this case, something else is afoot. Something decidedly more innocent and more intentionally silly. Something more middle class and also less self-conscious. These kids are capering about like we used to do for our parents' silent 8mm cameras. Even the unsuspecting peers they draw into their little project seem somewhat innocent and unjaded.

I don't know. It must be the water.

A Denton High School video
This is terribly corny and adolescent, and yet it's also somehow refreshing.


Plus it has a Beck song for a soundtrack.
Plus the kid who made it is a Norwegian American (Frisby).
Plus Beck is a Norwegian American.
Okay. Enough of that.

Eeyore's Birthday 2008

Turn on your speakers!

Matilda Mother

Ah, sweet serendipity! A Barrett cover with clowns! My planets must be all lined up!

Pearl Harbor Day

(lyrics written on Dec. 7, 1995 after a huge disappointment)

it's five a.m. on a sunday morning-
haven't slept a wink but the day is dawning
and i feel the sunlight growing strong
and put another pot of coffee on

i see your name in the morning paper
and think it's strange how this feeling lingers
i run my hands across the page
and the newsprint comes off dark on my fingers

(chorus)
and it says "who? who's the joke on now?"

i don't mean to complain, i'm usually happy
i know where i stand, respecting the boundaries
but i feel like i just dropped the ball
and don't know where to go from here at all

when i turn on my tv
there's nothing on, just the usual pabulum
but i see how grand life could be
with money, good looks, and a team of well-paid writers

(chorus)
and they'd say "who? who's the joke on now?

(bridge)
i've often said dreams are like giants-
the bigger they are the harder they fall
and when your dreams come crashing down around your head like thunder
you can turn to me and i'll say nothing-- nothing at all

'found a new muse in the absence of tragedy
i put a fresh face on the background pain
took her up town on the morning train
by noon i was broke and on my own again

(chorus)
and she said
"who? who's the joke on now?"
"who? who's the joke on now?"
"who? who's the joke on now?"

The Name o' the Blog

The Intention: Taken from a line, wistfully delivered, by one of my favorite entertainers of long ago--- post-modern performance artist Laurie Anderson. This is a nod to her.

Anniversary Getaway

On the way out of town, we decided to really take advantage of the freedom to be totally spontaneous. So, after popping into Waterloo to pick up a Devotchka cd, we strolled up 6th Street, soaking in a few outdoor acts for SXSW and settling into the scene at Opal's for some good food, good pivo, and good Austin vibes.

We eventually peeled ourselves away from all that wholesome Bohemianism and pointed the car toward LaGrange and our waiting "cabin in the woods"- Waldhutte.

That evening, we wandered into LaGrange and were surprised and delighted to find a fairly upscale and competent little restaurant "Bistro 108" just off the picturesque town square. That's the old town jail in the background behind Mila.

Daylight

(song from 2007)

Can you feel it creep--
The star-studded beast
that's covered half the West in chains
and now it turns to the East?

Can you hear its call--
fire spikes, brass horns, and all?
It bids you drop down to the ground-
you're going down, down, down...

(chorus)
Some still see the star of Bethlehem shining.
Sometimes it's overhead, and sometimes so far away.
And all of those who think they know will be writing
the daylight keeps breaking down.

They're turning up the heat.
They're targeting the teens.
You gotta have the right look, right phone,
you gotta own the right pair of jeans.

The writing's on the wall.
The signs are in the sky.
And signs are all we see these days,
they say "Buy!" and "Buy!" and "Buy!".

(chorus)
But some still see the star of Bethlehem shining.
Sometimes it's overhead, and sometimes so far away.
And all of those who think they know will be writing
the daylight keeps breaking down.

(bridge)
What are you waiting for, gun-shy baby?
You're never far away from what you can truly love.
They'll kill the fatted calf
and pour the best carafe
the day that you decide to come home,
to come home,
to come home.

Can you feel it creep?
Can you feel it creep?
Can you feel it creep?

Ten Years

How difficult it is to believe that ten years have passed since Mila and I were married. We count ourselves as being so, so very fortunate in our lives and in our marriage, though there is no doubt that a happy marriage (and indeed a happy life) is more than luck. I credit much of what we have to Mila's even-temper and non-judgmental nature, and I like to think that I add to the equation, too.

I first saw Mila at Congress Junior High School in Denton back in the very early 80s. She was in 7th grade and I was in 9th. It wasn't until we started dating and were looking at each other's yearbooks (among other things) and I saw her 7th grade picture that the memory of her then hit me. She is a lovely woman now, who takes after her mother's German side quite a bit. The addition of her father's Czech heritage makes for a striking combination indeed-- and one that is quite memorable. Even as a 7th grader she had a certain look.

Later, we were in highschool band together and I remember enjoying watching her dance to "Jellicle Songs for Jellicle Cats" out on the football field. She was a flag and I was a tuba-- and the band just stood there in formation playing the song while the flags did their routine. Lucky for me her dance area was right in front of me (thank you, God!). I thought she was sexy and liked watching her dance like a cat.

After I graduated I saw her every now and then-- maybe 2 or 3 times per year-- after football games or at bandling parties, such as they were. We had mutual friends, and her bigtime highschool beau was a good friend of some of my good friends.

When she graduated and moved to UT, we saw each other even more, though I would not remember many of these occasions that well if not for my journal. We were, after all, just friends at this point. A few occasions I do remember were these-- Oct. 4, 1986 at a party at my apartment on Enfield. Also in attendance, as fate would have it, were all four future-members of the Dentones. I remember going to a restaurant called Beans (?) with Mila and another friend. Another night included drunken cigarette-smoking and bowling on the UT campus. And finally, and this one is really whacky, in late winter 1987 Mila came over to hang out for the evening. We shared a bottle of white wine and sat on my sofa and talked and talked. I still vaguely remember looking at the bottle's tan label when it was empty or almost empty. The phone rang. It was my new love-interest Alison. She was also, as happenstance would have it, the girlfriend of a rather slacker-like fellow from Colorado named Brian. And she also lived with Brian. But, for some reason, I thought all of this was just bad luck and it didn't reflect on her at all (or me, for that matter) and that we were meant to be together... and all that.

For the record, I am not sure this was the first time Alison's boyfriends overlapped. But I am quite sure it was not the last.

So, back to that night with the white wine and Mila. Alison had FINALLY broken up with her boyfriend and had taken her things to stay at a girl friend's house (that lasted all of 1 hour) and was full of tears and remorse and the need to be comforted. Mila split, and Alison came over and stayed in my life for years. And years.

I slept on the floor that night. Hmmm...right now I cannot think of a way to comment about that particular move.

So, back to the one that matters. Mila and I continued to see each other every few months-- just as friends-- throughout the early 90s. When she bought a new red Tercel in about 1992 she came over to my place to show me.

I always thought she was kind of on the wild side (that's really not true, by the way, either that or she calmed down a lot!) and it made me feel a bit daring-do to hang out with her. There was one particular trip to Wurstfest that really ended up being a bit daring-do! Woo-hoo!

In May of 1996 I was over at Big A's, sitting at his vintage 50s kitchen table, and I asked him if he had talked to Mila lately. He hadn't. I gave her a call a few days later, and we talked for a long time. Not sure how many telephone conversations we had. Maybe just one. Probably more. But we did talk about getting together to do something. She was soon to leave the country, though, to bury her grandfather's ashes back in Bohemia, and just before she was due back in the States I would fly out to NC for a weeks-long visit with my family there.

-=-=-=-=-=-==

Taking a bit of a breath here. Lots of writing, and not quite in the direction I had originally intended. Deleting it would be a shame, and my Newkie-B tells me not to try editing it at the moment. So I'll just let it stand. The four people who actually read this blog are not likely to chase me down and chastise me for the efforts you see here.

Gute Nacht!

Visit of the Parental Units

The apple falls not far from the tree.

But entertainment is cheap in our family.

And no one can ever say that this crew doesn't know how to have a good time.

Insidious

I live in a bubble, quite sheltered from most popular entertainment and "info-tainment". I jokingly tell my movie-buff buddies that the answer to any question that begins with "Have you seen..." is probably 'no'.

My knowledge of the goings on of the larger world trickles in to me during about 10 minutes of paging through the Austin-American Statesman while I wait for my morning jo to kick in, and then, as I drive to work, about 20 minutes of NPR.

Recently, however, I broke pattern and turned on the TV, which, by the way, poet Carl Sandburg very aptly called "the great thief of time"-- 40 years and 69 channels ago! I happened to turn to FOX news.

I don't know why. Just landed there, I guess, and was so appalled that I just stayed. Kinda like rubber-necking as you crawl past a car wreck on I-35.

Now, sheltered though I am, I knew enough to scoff at FOX's claim to be "fair and unbiased" and knew it to be less of a source of news than a mouthpiece for the Republican Party. I knew that it was bad journalism. I knew that it was bad karma. I knew that it was bad politics. What I didn't know it that it's not merely bad. It is insidious.

Case in point:

1) Hours and hours (it was on in the background while I was surfing the web) of the most offensive clips of Reb. Wright's near minstrel-show antics while in the lower right-hand corner an image of Barack Obama's face slowly faded into and out of view. Thinly-veiled semi-subliminal association. Enough to make me want to puke.

2) A half-hour long "Crossfire" style discussion between two political pundits. Topic: Obama's candidacy in light of the Wright clips. One pundit was against Obama, and the other one was REALLLLLY against Obama. That is the fair and unbiased way to present an issue. Right?

3) Four days after my initial lengthy peek into the very nasty world of Fox News, I have it on again (right now) and see, once again, an endless loop of Rev. Wright's unfortunate ravings.

4) Now what's on Fox News? An author talking about his book "The Liberal Mind". The segment was introduced just before a break with the line "Is liberalism a mental disease?" What a farce! This is no book review or chat with the author! It is propaganda. To paraphrase:

Author: There are two kinds of liberals. Some are harmless, but others are radical and cause a lot of damage. They are really dangerous.

Host: I know some liberals really mean well. They want to see a world that is more fair and where everybody gets a fair share, but they expect a sort of Big Brother government to take care of everybody regardless of how hard they work.

Author: That's right.

Host: What percentage of liberals are the first kind, the good-hearted but misguided kind, and what percentage are the other kind?

Author: I don't know the percentages, but the radical liberals do by far the most damage. They are the ones who are most dangerous.

End of interview.

The one brief shining moment out of hours of dreadfulness and dreck-- an interview with Princeton professor Dr. Eddie Glaude. After the host surprised the hell out of me by saying that he was a Christian and then asked why can't Rev. Wright just forgive and forget, Dr. Glaude, who is an African American and also a Christian, attempted to explain that there is a multiplicity of Christian viewpoints and that Rev. Wright and many African-American churches embrace a prophetic view of Christianity. And, as Dr. Glaude was beginning to explain just what that prophetic view is (and by the way it has to do with social justice and not fortune-telling), the host cut him off, saying that time was short. But time was not short. The host talked and talked. During the course of the interview he talked more than the guest.

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When does the Revolution begin? Let me know.
In the mean time, vote for Obama and let's all do our best to turn this mess around.