MMM Jr.: What song is this?
MMM: It's an old song by R.E.M. called Can't Get There From Here.
MMM Jr.: Where is he trying to go?
Um ... Philomath?
Showing posts with label personal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label personal. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Questions I can't answer
Today in the car ride home ...
Um ... Philomath?
Um ... Philomath?
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Saturday, March 08, 2008
Progress report
I've written roughly 70,000 words, completed 15 interviews. I'm expecting to do four more in this final week of leave, and then I'm back to the grind.
I don't usually apologize for a lack of blog activity, but it's pretty obvious that if I've written this much while shopping the book around to publishers and preparing to go back to work, I haven't had much power left in my brain or my laptop to write anything coherent about music or media. It's been a while since I've had a spare hour to live-blog VH1 Classic or XM. But I'll get back to it. I promise. Especially once someone agrees to publish this thing.
I don't usually apologize for a lack of blog activity, but it's pretty obvious that if I've written this much while shopping the book around to publishers and preparing to go back to work, I haven't had much power left in my brain or my laptop to write anything coherent about music or media. It's been a while since I've had a spare hour to live-blog VH1 Classic or XM. But I'll get back to it. I promise. Especially once someone agrees to publish this thing.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Progress report
Today, at Starbucks, around 1:30 p.m., I finished Chapter 11 of my MLS history book (rough draft). At 62,200 words, I have now written a viable nonfiction work.
All that remains of the rough draft is a conclusion, which I may not write in detail until I've done some interviews -- already underway -- and gone back through the book.
I feel exhausted and really, really happy. I wasn't sure at first that I could do this. Now, whether this book ends up selling 100,000 copies for a major publishing house or 10 through self-publishing at Amazon, I know I will have written a decent book. I'll spend the rest of my mini-sabbatical making it better.
The funny thing -- since going on this final roll, my Freecell skills have seriously deteriorated.
All that remains of the rough draft is a conclusion, which I may not write in detail until I've done some interviews -- already underway -- and gone back through the book.
I feel exhausted and really, really happy. I wasn't sure at first that I could do this. Now, whether this book ends up selling 100,000 copies for a major publishing house or 10 through self-publishing at Amazon, I know I will have written a decent book. I'll spend the rest of my mini-sabbatical making it better.
The funny thing -- since going on this final roll, my Freecell skills have seriously deteriorated.
Friday, February 08, 2008
The Streak
From the Freecell game I've been playing a lot while home all week with a flu-ridden kid:
I'm getting nervous about the next game.
Update: The game went just fine, as did the next. The next two were a struggle.
Got one more, but then it ended.
The final record:
I'm getting nervous about the next game.Update: The game went just fine, as did the next. The next two were a struggle.
Got one more, but then it ended.
The final record:
Monday, December 10, 2007
Song du semaine: Suzanne Vega, "Blood Makes Noise"
(Video is here; embedding disabled. Feel free to play it while you're reading, though it's a very short song and this is a long story.)
I've been holding on to this one until the minor medical question of two weeks ago was completely resolved. When I last mentioned it, my doctor had convinced me that I couldn't possibly have something that moved from Point A to Point B. But I still had to have Point A and Point B checked individually on the off chance that something was wrong there.
Point B was checked Thursday, a mere 12 days after my initial visit to urgent care. That was done via CT scan. If you haven't had a CT scan, I highly recommend that you do it. That recommendation is contingent on how many burning sensations you like to have at once.
First, of course, you have the pent-up agitation of waiting 12 days. See, I have a pricey HMO in affluent Fairfax County. I'm not some uninsured Chicago resident who turns up at County on ER and is quickly ushered to a scanner by a couple of pretty people who are busy arguing about the fact that they're the last heterosexual permutation on the current staff that has yet to consummate its flirtation. So I had 12 days to think of possible things that could be sitting around in my abdomen. The woman waiting next to me cracked up when I said I'd been avoiding the movie Alien.
Second, you have your barium smoothie. Make it a double. 750 milliliters or so of stuff that makes you all tingly. It's kind of like a loofah for your innards, pushed through by enough liquid to make Hoover Dam say, "Hey, guys? I need some reinforcement in Sector 3."
Third, you have iodine. Not rubbed on your arm, as if this was just a blood donation. Nope. Pumped into your blood stream. I was told I'd feel a warm sensation and possibly a few other side effects. When the scan started, I did indeed feel warm and a little loopy, with occasional twinges all through me. Then the guy said, "OK, I'm putting in the iodine now."
On your way out, they tell you to drink about 8-12 glasses of water to get that iodine the heck out of your blood stream. They were telling me this around 9 p.m. Thursday night. So, when was I supposed to drink all this? And if I could drink all that water on top of the barium still sitting in my stomach like nuclear pop rocks, would I really need the CT scan?
Basically, I had a choice between bloating and burning in the four days I was waiting to hear from the kindly folks who would scan my insides. I split the difference.
Today, I finally heard the expected reassuring results, delivered by a doctor who spoke ... very ... deliberately ... like the rabbi who hits on Elaine in Seinfeld. ("Someone .. in my .. syna-gogue .. has a .. time-share in Myr-tle Beach." Which always begged the question: "What the hell kind of New York synagogue-goer, presumably over age 30, goes to Myrtle Beach?")
It's nice, I suppose, now that it's all done. It's good to hear my heart and all my other organs are functioning as they should. But when this comes up again, I'd like to do something about that 16-day wait. I'm already a little ticked off at the medical establishment for its failure to do anything for a toddler's constricting congestion between "stick him in a warm, humid room, but watch the mold" and "strap this to his face and turn on this machine while cranking Sesame Street to a volume approximating The Who circa 1973."
One positive word about medicine: In 1991, when Magic Johnson told us he had HIV, did anyone think we'd be attending Magic Johnson Theaters rather than Magic Johnson Memorial Tournaments 16 years later? So they're doing something right.
And that leads to this song, the only tune I know that addresses fear of getting tested. Released less than a year after Magic's announcement, it's quite clearly informed by the AIDS fear cutting through society at the time. Sample lyric: "I think that you might want to know the details and the facts / But there's something in my blood denies the memory of the act."
If you only know Suzanne Vega from Luka and that dance remix of her a cappella Tom's Diner -- well, first of all, shame on you. Secondly, you're in for a bit of a shock. Like Indigo Girls, Vega pushed "folk"-rock into all sorts of interesting directions, but my fellow Georgians never veered as close to Eurotechno as Vega does here. It's a propulsive bass line and a whole lot of noise. When Vega performed this one with David Letterman's band, drummer Anton Fig played his part on a trash-can lid. (I watched that show when it aired -- I recall Dave found it quite amusing after the fact to see Anton take such a low-tech approach.)
The noisiness was the brainchild of Vega's producer and future former husband Mitchell Froom. I only mention him because a couple of years after he started dating Ally McBeal singer/appearer Vonda Shepard -- we'll just say the ink wasn't dry on any sort of separation agreement -- Vega recorded Songs in Red and Gray, which put the split in philosophical terms but has this wonderful withering cover photo. If there's ever a mixed martial arts tournament among '80s folk-rockers, my money's on Vega.
An intriguing fan site has gathered a few of Vega's thoughts on most of her songs. She opens up a few interpretations on this one, ranging from simple fear to skepticism of the doctor-patient relationship. Sounds like she was aiming for the personal level, but I hope she doesn't mind if I apply it to an HMO.
I've been holding on to this one until the minor medical question of two weeks ago was completely resolved. When I last mentioned it, my doctor had convinced me that I couldn't possibly have something that moved from Point A to Point B. But I still had to have Point A and Point B checked individually on the off chance that something was wrong there.
Point B was checked Thursday, a mere 12 days after my initial visit to urgent care. That was done via CT scan. If you haven't had a CT scan, I highly recommend that you do it. That recommendation is contingent on how many burning sensations you like to have at once.
First, of course, you have the pent-up agitation of waiting 12 days. See, I have a pricey HMO in affluent Fairfax County. I'm not some uninsured Chicago resident who turns up at County on ER and is quickly ushered to a scanner by a couple of pretty people who are busy arguing about the fact that they're the last heterosexual permutation on the current staff that has yet to consummate its flirtation. So I had 12 days to think of possible things that could be sitting around in my abdomen. The woman waiting next to me cracked up when I said I'd been avoiding the movie Alien.
Second, you have your barium smoothie. Make it a double. 750 milliliters or so of stuff that makes you all tingly. It's kind of like a loofah for your innards, pushed through by enough liquid to make Hoover Dam say, "Hey, guys? I need some reinforcement in Sector 3."
Third, you have iodine. Not rubbed on your arm, as if this was just a blood donation. Nope. Pumped into your blood stream. I was told I'd feel a warm sensation and possibly a few other side effects. When the scan started, I did indeed feel warm and a little loopy, with occasional twinges all through me. Then the guy said, "OK, I'm putting in the iodine now."
On your way out, they tell you to drink about 8-12 glasses of water to get that iodine the heck out of your blood stream. They were telling me this around 9 p.m. Thursday night. So, when was I supposed to drink all this? And if I could drink all that water on top of the barium still sitting in my stomach like nuclear pop rocks, would I really need the CT scan?
Basically, I had a choice between bloating and burning in the four days I was waiting to hear from the kindly folks who would scan my insides. I split the difference.
Today, I finally heard the expected reassuring results, delivered by a doctor who spoke ... very ... deliberately ... like the rabbi who hits on Elaine in Seinfeld. ("Someone .. in my .. syna-gogue .. has a .. time-share in Myr-tle Beach." Which always begged the question: "What the hell kind of New York synagogue-goer, presumably over age 30, goes to Myrtle Beach?")
It's nice, I suppose, now that it's all done. It's good to hear my heart and all my other organs are functioning as they should. But when this comes up again, I'd like to do something about that 16-day wait. I'm already a little ticked off at the medical establishment for its failure to do anything for a toddler's constricting congestion between "stick him in a warm, humid room, but watch the mold" and "strap this to his face and turn on this machine while cranking Sesame Street to a volume approximating The Who circa 1973."
One positive word about medicine: In 1991, when Magic Johnson told us he had HIV, did anyone think we'd be attending Magic Johnson Theaters rather than Magic Johnson Memorial Tournaments 16 years later? So they're doing something right.
And that leads to this song, the only tune I know that addresses fear of getting tested. Released less than a year after Magic's announcement, it's quite clearly informed by the AIDS fear cutting through society at the time. Sample lyric: "I think that you might want to know the details and the facts / But there's something in my blood denies the memory of the act."
If you only know Suzanne Vega from Luka and that dance remix of her a cappella Tom's Diner -- well, first of all, shame on you. Secondly, you're in for a bit of a shock. Like Indigo Girls, Vega pushed "folk"-rock into all sorts of interesting directions, but my fellow Georgians never veered as close to Eurotechno as Vega does here. It's a propulsive bass line and a whole lot of noise. When Vega performed this one with David Letterman's band, drummer Anton Fig played his part on a trash-can lid. (I watched that show when it aired -- I recall Dave found it quite amusing after the fact to see Anton take such a low-tech approach.)
The noisiness was the brainchild of Vega's producer and future former husband Mitchell Froom. I only mention him because a couple of years after he started dating Ally McBeal singer/appearer Vonda Shepard -- we'll just say the ink wasn't dry on any sort of separation agreement -- Vega recorded Songs in Red and Gray, which put the split in philosophical terms but has this wonderful withering cover photo. If there's ever a mixed martial arts tournament among '80s folk-rockers, my money's on Vega.An intriguing fan site has gathered a few of Vega's thoughts on most of her songs. She opens up a few interpretations on this one, ranging from simple fear to skepticism of the doctor-patient relationship. Sounds like she was aiming for the personal level, but I hope she doesn't mind if I apply it to an HMO.
MMM Jr. goes to church
It was an "Advent lessons and carols" service, which in retrospect was not the best place for an inquisitive 4-year-old who doesn't go to such things that often.
Imagine the conversation taking place in a stage whisper ...
Daddy?
What is it?
When are they going to turn the lights on?
Well, they're going to light all these candles to make it brighter.
But when?
I don't know.
(Skipping ahead -- candles now lit)
Daddy?
Yes?
Who's singing this?
See all those people up there? They're singing.
But what are their names?
I don't kn -- I'll tell you more later, can you be quiet for a while?
But why?
Because we're all enjoying the music.
Why are we enjoying the music?
Because it's nice -- please? You'll get a treat when we get home. Can you be quiet for five minutes unless you have to go potty?
OK. (Moves hand to cover mouth)
...
...
...
Daddy?
Yes, what is it?
I'm being quiet.
Good ... well ... actually, you're not -- but good. We'll leave after one more song, OK?
OK.
...
...
...
Daddy?
(exasperated) What is it?
When are they going to turn the lights on?
Remember? They lit the candles.
Is the light -- the candles -- the light on the candles? Is that fire?
Yes, but it's OK.
How do they make the fire?
We come in here and pray to Prometheus for a well-timed ... look, can you wait one more song? Please?
OK, Daddy. (Plays with his "Bionicle" toy on the hymnal.)
...
...
Daddy?
Wh ... What is it?
This is Bionicle's Bible.
That's sweet, son. Now can you be quiet for this last song before we go?
OK
...
...
...
Daddy?
#$%@! What?
I'm being quiet.
Imagine the conversation taking place in a stage whisper ...
Daddy?
What is it?
When are they going to turn the lights on?
Well, they're going to light all these candles to make it brighter.
But when?
I don't know.
(Skipping ahead -- candles now lit)
Daddy?
Yes?
Who's singing this?
See all those people up there? They're singing.
But what are their names?
I don't kn -- I'll tell you more later, can you be quiet for a while?
But why?
Because we're all enjoying the music.
Why are we enjoying the music?
Because it's nice -- please? You'll get a treat when we get home. Can you be quiet for five minutes unless you have to go potty?
OK. (Moves hand to cover mouth)
...
...
...
Daddy?
Yes, what is it?
I'm being quiet.
Good ... well ... actually, you're not -- but good. We'll leave after one more song, OK?
OK.
...
...
...
Daddy?
(exasperated) What is it?
When are they going to turn the lights on?
Remember? They lit the candles.
Is the light -- the candles -- the light on the candles? Is that fire?
Yes, but it's OK.
How do they make the fire?
We come in here and pray to Prometheus for a well-timed ... look, can you wait one more song? Please?
OK, Daddy. (Plays with his "Bionicle" toy on the hymnal.)
...
...
Daddy?
Wh ... What is it?
This is Bionicle's Bible.
That's sweet, son. Now can you be quiet for this last song before we go?
OK
...
...
...
Daddy?
#$%@! What?
I'm being quiet.
Thursday, December 06, 2007
Amusing moments in Northern Virginia driving
I travel on the Beltway toward Tysons. Like everyone else, I get over to the right to take Leesburg Pike to Tysons, then remember that you need to get in the left-most of the two exit lanes.
No problem.
Then a minivan makes the same decision, just a lot later and in a lot more traffic.
Then the minivan hits its brakes hard.
I hit my brakes and pray ... stopping ... stopping ...
Stopped. Maybe an inch or two short of the minivan's rear bumper.
Relief turns quickly to anger. HONK! HONK! HONNNNNNKKKKK!!!!!
BAM!!
"Bam?" I think.
Hey, wait ... that's from behind.
Hey, I've been in an accident!
OK, let's pull over ...
Phew! The back of my car has just a scratch or two on the bumper.
The guy behind me ... ick!
But he's strangely calm. Even apologetic about my bumper, though he took the worst of it. He gives me his number and drives off.
OK, ready to merge back into traffic ...
Son of a bitch -- will someone please let me back in?
No problem.
Then a minivan makes the same decision, just a lot later and in a lot more traffic.
Then the minivan hits its brakes hard.
I hit my brakes and pray ... stopping ... stopping ...
Stopped. Maybe an inch or two short of the minivan's rear bumper.
Relief turns quickly to anger. HONK! HONK! HONNNNNNKKKKK!!!!!
BAM!!
"Bam?" I think.
Hey, wait ... that's from behind.
Hey, I've been in an accident!
OK, let's pull over ...
Phew! The back of my car has just a scratch or two on the bumper.
The guy behind me ... ick!
But he's strangely calm. Even apologetic about my bumper, though he took the worst of it. He gives me his number and drives off.
OK, ready to merge back into traffic ...
Son of a bitch -- will someone please let me back in?
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Song du semaine: Men at Work, "Overkill"
Do you ever think about death? Yes. Sure you do. A fleeting thought that drifts in and out of the transom of your mind. I spend hours, I spend days... - and you think this makes you a better person? Look, when the shit comes down, I'm gonna be prepared and you're not, that's all I'm saying. And in the meantime, you're gonna ruin your whole life waiting for it. (Source)I had a bit of a health concern this week. To call it a cancer scare would be a little melodramatic. Narcissistic, even. Perhaps even Malignant Narcissism.
The ingredients for this week's disaster: A twinge in my belly that felt like it could be a hernia, a trip to urgent care, a lonnnnng wait there, a rushed visit with a doctor who ordered a CT scan, a resulting tender spot, a history of atypical moles and a 21st-century phenomenon called cyberchondria.
See, with the Internet now providing a ready source of mildly reliable medical information, all of our worries can be magnified. Every Web site has to list the worst-case scenarios in this litigious society. That headache you have? Well, it could be from the bump to the head you got a few minutes ago when you were in the kitchen and didn't notice a cabinet door was open. Or it could be an advanced metastatic cancer that originated in your pancreas. Sure, one is more likely than the other by a factor of a few hundred thousand, but susceptible minds have a hard time absorbing the odds.
Here's another factor -- as someone who spends far too much of his personal and professional time following sports, I've grown accustomed to happy endings in medical dramas, and that didn't happen this week. Basically, if an athlete survives the initial trauma, he always exceeds medical expectations. Bobby Hurley not only survived his traffic accident, he returned to the NBA for a couple of years. Kevin Everett is apparently taking a few steps. So I went to sleep Monday night fully expecting to read the next morning that Sean Taylor had awakened in the hospital and was identifying his assailants. When that didn't happen, it threw my sense of medical reality all out of whack.
I knew I was being ridiculous. Yet I couldn't quite convince that loud nagging voice in my head. When I stopped listening, it metastatized to my stomach and claimed most of my digestive system. That gave me a good excuse to call for an appointment with my actual doctor.
She was able to take a better look at the situation and reassure me that it couldn't possibly be what I was fearing. We had a good talk about cyberchondria, Sean Taylor, the Washington sniper and actual medical conditions.
So I'm glad I held onto this song for an appropriate week. It's an ode to paranoia with tasteful understatement and one of the most beautiful choruses ever written. Ghosts appear and fade away ...
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Skipping "denial" -- moving straight to "anger"
If you live near Washington and aren't one of those total *^&#@s who despise all things relating to the Redskins, you're grieving today for Sean Taylor, whose utterly senseless death has shocked the region.
But another death in the news caught my attention as well. Quiet Riot's Kevin DuBrow, not an old man by any reckoning, suddenly passed away.
It's easy to think of DuBrow and company as a little cartoonish. That was their image for a while, and it worked for them. But these are very real people. If you want a reminder, check the official site of drummer Frankie Banali, who shares his pain with an eloquence you might not expect from a guy whose band bashed out Metal Health back in the day.
I've been home with MMM Jr. today, and as entertaining and lovable as he is, I've been feeling kind of angry. The way I figure it, death and decay are always going to be in greater supply than any of us want. The great idiocy of mankind is that we invite more of them into our lives.
We don't know the details of why Taylor was shot. We don't know anything about DuBrow's death. But at some point, the message has to sink in. We as a species are absolute failures in the most basic need of living creatures -- taking care of each other.
I don't hear any politicians talking about such things -- they're all reciting the same banter we've been hearing for decades, and the "citizen journalists" that are supposedly replacing those of us who are being bought out and laid off (speaking in generalities here -- last I checked, I still had a job) aren't doing any better at broadening the conversation beyond the same rhetorical tricks carefully coached by the Vogon warlords who serve as their strategists.
Can we do better? I sure as hell hope so.
(Back to more uplifting fare tomorrow.)
But another death in the news caught my attention as well. Quiet Riot's Kevin DuBrow, not an old man by any reckoning, suddenly passed away.
It's easy to think of DuBrow and company as a little cartoonish. That was their image for a while, and it worked for them. But these are very real people. If you want a reminder, check the official site of drummer Frankie Banali, who shares his pain with an eloquence you might not expect from a guy whose band bashed out Metal Health back in the day.
I've been home with MMM Jr. today, and as entertaining and lovable as he is, I've been feeling kind of angry. The way I figure it, death and decay are always going to be in greater supply than any of us want. The great idiocy of mankind is that we invite more of them into our lives.
We don't know the details of why Taylor was shot. We don't know anything about DuBrow's death. But at some point, the message has to sink in. We as a species are absolute failures in the most basic need of living creatures -- taking care of each other.
I don't hear any politicians talking about such things -- they're all reciting the same banter we've been hearing for decades, and the "citizen journalists" that are supposedly replacing those of us who are being bought out and laid off (speaking in generalities here -- last I checked, I still had a job) aren't doing any better at broadening the conversation beyond the same rhetorical tricks carefully coached by the Vogon warlords who serve as their strategists.
Can we do better? I sure as hell hope so.
(Back to more uplifting fare tomorrow.)
Monday, November 19, 2007
Season's end
Rough count of the past year: 45 stories, 39 of them about MLS. Quite an increase from 25 over the two preceding years (not counting Olympic Athlete of the Week, which was a quick roundup that has since been folded into the blog).
It's not as if I won't know what to do with myself now that it's over. I've got plenty of projects lined up for the next few months. Some of them could be affected by the present uncertainty, some won't.
There's something melancholy about the end of a season, particularly if you're one of the last people to leave the stadium. It wasn't like the end of the Salt Lake Olympics, where the crews taking down the media center were so efficient that I was scared to step away from my "desk" (table) for even a minute, lest it be stripped like a car parked in a bad neighborhood. In this case, we all settled for listening to the revved-up leaf blowers that clean the stadium. RFK's main soccer pressbox, unlike the boxes in newer NFL stadia, is not enclosed.
For almost eight months, I've been in a routine. Call Monday. Interviews Tuesday. Write Tuesday night and Wednesday. Gauge reaction Thursday. Watch Thursday night game. Then on Saturday, with the kids in bed, flip around to see more games and think of a story for next week.
So now it's over. I'm relatively pleased with the tens of thousands of words I wrote. I'm going to miss my Tuesday conversations with Landon Donovan or Fernando Clavijo or whoever was willing to chat for the weekly story, though I have roughly 17-18 hours of archived conversations in case I want to hear that awful voice I have while I'm formulating questions. There's no guarantee it'll happen again next year.
But on the bright side, I'm looking forward to a leisurely lunch tomorrow.
Wonder if there's a European game on ...
It's not as if I won't know what to do with myself now that it's over. I've got plenty of projects lined up for the next few months. Some of them could be affected by the present uncertainty, some won't.
There's something melancholy about the end of a season, particularly if you're one of the last people to leave the stadium. It wasn't like the end of the Salt Lake Olympics, where the crews taking down the media center were so efficient that I was scared to step away from my "desk" (table) for even a minute, lest it be stripped like a car parked in a bad neighborhood. In this case, we all settled for listening to the revved-up leaf blowers that clean the stadium. RFK's main soccer pressbox, unlike the boxes in newer NFL stadia, is not enclosed.
For almost eight months, I've been in a routine. Call Monday. Interviews Tuesday. Write Tuesday night and Wednesday. Gauge reaction Thursday. Watch Thursday night game. Then on Saturday, with the kids in bed, flip around to see more games and think of a story for next week.
So now it's over. I'm relatively pleased with the tens of thousands of words I wrote. I'm going to miss my Tuesday conversations with Landon Donovan or Fernando Clavijo or whoever was willing to chat for the weekly story, though I have roughly 17-18 hours of archived conversations in case I want to hear that awful voice I have while I'm formulating questions. There's no guarantee it'll happen again next year.
But on the bright side, I'm looking forward to a leisurely lunch tomorrow.
Wonder if there's a European game on ...
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
And still more stuff I've written recently ...
My guest essay at Next Newsroom was just published. I skip down Memory Lane and testify to the merits of working from the comfort of home, accompanied by my dog.
And then there's today's story, which I wrote while doing this blog and then watching the kids.
And on a men's room at the mall, I wrote a witty rejoinder ... oh, wait, I shouldn't publicize that.
And then there's today's story, which I wrote while doing this blog and then watching the kids.
And on a men's room at the mall, I wrote a witty rejoinder ... oh, wait, I shouldn't publicize that.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Random day in a homeowner/blogger/parent's life
- Replacing the windows in your house is something I recommend doing exactly once.
- "Then she barfed them up in the freezer and tried to get out" is one of the most strangely and perversely funny punch lines I've ever heard.
- You should never be too tired or too distracted to pretend you're using a sword to defend yourself against your son's mace made of string.
- Dogs freak out a little when you put shades up. Once the shades are up, they're fine.
- Some days, showering is a privilege, not a right.
- I should learn to suffer fools in the style of Jim from The Office.
- Blogging a sports catastrophe can be oddly rewarding.
- Some people are simply going to follow college sports coaches as divine gurus, and there's not much we can do about it other than pray that they don't vote or run companies that can harm the environment.
- The perfect end to a tiring day is a long Office episode. If they ever cancel the show, can they just have Jenna Fischer and John Krasinski narrate my day a couple of times a year?
- I love going to sleep while it's raining. But I really need to shower first ...
- "Then she barfed them up in the freezer and tried to get out" is one of the most strangely and perversely funny punch lines I've ever heard.
- You should never be too tired or too distracted to pretend you're using a sword to defend yourself against your son's mace made of string.
- Dogs freak out a little when you put shades up. Once the shades are up, they're fine.
- Some days, showering is a privilege, not a right.
- I should learn to suffer fools in the style of Jim from The Office.
- Blogging a sports catastrophe can be oddly rewarding.
- Some people are simply going to follow college sports coaches as divine gurus, and there's not much we can do about it other than pray that they don't vote or run companies that can harm the environment.
- The perfect end to a tiring day is a long Office episode. If they ever cancel the show, can they just have Jenna Fischer and John Krasinski narrate my day a couple of times a year?
- I love going to sleep while it's raining. But I really need to shower first ...
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Welcome newcomers
I'm expecting a few new people to check out the blog this weekend. See Jason's blog to see why.
So with that in mind, here's a brief intro to this blog:
- It started as Mostly Modern Music, which explains the URL. After a while, I realized I had a few things to say about TV and my poorly chosen field of journalism, so I changed the name to something more expansive. I'm still working on a journalism version of Martin Luther's theses, but I'm not sure where to nail them.
- Like Jason, I have a few projects that take me away from this blog from time to time. One is still in diapers. I'm still working on a guide to Rush I started in July. Don't even ask about my channel-by-channel guide to XM. Basically, I write when I have time, with apologies to all 10 of my regular readers.
- I don't use this blog for networking purposes, but if you're interested in publishing a book on soccer, please let me know.
- I play piano, guitar, bass, clarinet and percussion -- yes, including tympani, vibraphone and wood blocks. At least, I did 20 years ago.
- My biggest brush with celebrity is either standing three feet away from David Beckham in the Galaxy locker room or being teased by Belly's bass player on Prodigy's message boards. Take your pick.
- I don't do politics, and I'm quite proud of that. As John Ruskin once said: "Great nations write their autobiographies in three manuscripts, the book of their deeds, the book of their words and the book of their art. Not one of these books can be understood unless we read the two others, but of the three the only trustworthy one is the last."
So thanks for stopping by. Do stop by again, or subscribe if you're so inclined.
So with that in mind, here's a brief intro to this blog:
- It started as Mostly Modern Music, which explains the URL. After a while, I realized I had a few things to say about TV and my poorly chosen field of journalism, so I changed the name to something more expansive. I'm still working on a journalism version of Martin Luther's theses, but I'm not sure where to nail them.
- Like Jason, I have a few projects that take me away from this blog from time to time. One is still in diapers. I'm still working on a guide to Rush I started in July. Don't even ask about my channel-by-channel guide to XM. Basically, I write when I have time, with apologies to all 10 of my regular readers.
- I don't use this blog for networking purposes, but if you're interested in publishing a book on soccer, please let me know.
- I play piano, guitar, bass, clarinet and percussion -- yes, including tympani, vibraphone and wood blocks. At least, I did 20 years ago.
- My biggest brush with celebrity is either standing three feet away from David Beckham in the Galaxy locker room or being teased by Belly's bass player on Prodigy's message boards. Take your pick.
- I don't do politics, and I'm quite proud of that. As John Ruskin once said: "Great nations write their autobiographies in three manuscripts, the book of their deeds, the book of their words and the book of their art. Not one of these books can be understood unless we read the two others, but of the three the only trustworthy one is the last."
So thanks for stopping by. Do stop by again, or subscribe if you're so inclined.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Launch vs. Last
I'm a longtime Launch.com devotee. Just check out my station. Before I joined the iPod ranks a couple of years ago, Launch was the soundtrack of my workday. I discovered so much good music -- Carbon Leaf, Rachael Yamagata, Stereophonics, Dubstar, newer Los Lobos, Blue Man Group, Hayseed Dixie, newer Dylan, Mary Lou Lord, newer Big Country, some Jonatha Brooke -- and some Chris Rock and Steve Martin comedy bits.
I've listened less at work these days. My job is a little more social than it used to be, and for the moments I need to crank up the volume and ignore my co-workers' incessant yammering on movies, I have the iPod.
So I've been thinking of cancelling my $3/month subscription to Launch -- you can use it for free, but I pay to get it without ads. Mrs. MMM and I are fanatical about keeping subscription costs low. Many of our magazines are freebies, including the two I get for networking through MediaBistro. We do NOT get HBO, so don't ask us about The Sopranos.
Yahoo! also isn't doing much to develop the Launch service. I haven't noticed a new feature in, oh, three years or so. They're focused on developing Yahoo! Music, which puzzles me. (Pay $6/month to listen to music on my computer but not my iPod? Where do I sign up?!)
And I've noticed Last.fm widgets popping up everywhere. Curious, I checked it out with Wikipedia -- the 2007 equivalent of asking a neighbor -- and I was impressed with what I read.
I signed up for it, and ... I'm not really impressed.
I'm using the free service, and it seems I have to pay $3/month just to bring it up to the level of Launch. And I'd still miss a few features such as song rankings. Yes, Last.fm has "love" and "ban," but there's nothing in between. Launch gives you a number ranking and sets your playlist according to your preferences. You can even set up a couple of different "stations," some ignoring your rankings and some relying on them almost exclusively, though that may be a subscriber-only feature.
I've also found it's a good way to check out a new album. When Carbon Leaf and Paul McCartney released albums in the past couple of years, I ranked the artist and the album 100, guaranteeing I'd hear a couple of songs in a couple of typical listening hours.
Last.fm seems a lot less interactive. Sure, you can share your preferences with others, but Launch also has that. (They're called "influencers.") I haven't figured out how to do anything other than naming an artist and hearing similar artists. Even that's a little sketchy -- when I entered "Rolling Stones," my playlist was stuck in the '60s. What about the new Stones stuff?
So, Last.fm users, what do you like about it? What am I doing wrong? I'm sure I can grow to like it, but is it worth canceling Launch to rely on this instead?
And have you guys ever considered Launch?
I've listened less at work these days. My job is a little more social than it used to be, and for the moments I need to crank up the volume and ignore my co-workers' incessant yammering on movies, I have the iPod.
So I've been thinking of cancelling my $3/month subscription to Launch -- you can use it for free, but I pay to get it without ads. Mrs. MMM and I are fanatical about keeping subscription costs low. Many of our magazines are freebies, including the two I get for networking through MediaBistro. We do NOT get HBO, so don't ask us about The Sopranos.
Yahoo! also isn't doing much to develop the Launch service. I haven't noticed a new feature in, oh, three years or so. They're focused on developing Yahoo! Music, which puzzles me. (Pay $6/month to listen to music on my computer but not my iPod? Where do I sign up?!)
And I've noticed Last.fm widgets popping up everywhere. Curious, I checked it out with Wikipedia -- the 2007 equivalent of asking a neighbor -- and I was impressed with what I read.
I signed up for it, and ... I'm not really impressed.
I'm using the free service, and it seems I have to pay $3/month just to bring it up to the level of Launch. And I'd still miss a few features such as song rankings. Yes, Last.fm has "love" and "ban," but there's nothing in between. Launch gives you a number ranking and sets your playlist according to your preferences. You can even set up a couple of different "stations," some ignoring your rankings and some relying on them almost exclusively, though that may be a subscriber-only feature.
I've also found it's a good way to check out a new album. When Carbon Leaf and Paul McCartney released albums in the past couple of years, I ranked the artist and the album 100, guaranteeing I'd hear a couple of songs in a couple of typical listening hours.
Last.fm seems a lot less interactive. Sure, you can share your preferences with others, but Launch also has that. (They're called "influencers.") I haven't figured out how to do anything other than naming an artist and hearing similar artists. Even that's a little sketchy -- when I entered "Rolling Stones," my playlist was stuck in the '60s. What about the new Stones stuff?
So, Last.fm users, what do you like about it? What am I doing wrong? I'm sure I can grow to like it, but is it worth canceling Launch to rely on this instead?
And have you guys ever considered Launch?
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Facebook for grown-ups
As some of you already know, you can find me on Facebook. I'll add one of those widgets once I plow through some more of the tasks, both real and virtual, on my long to-do list.
I was coaxed into joining by a handful of colleagues who convinced me that social networking and business networking are converging, and Facebook was where this was happening. Fair enough, I thought. I'll give it a try.
It's cleverly built, and it's addictive. I could spend days browsing through all the available widgets. I've also had one legit professional discussion, thanks to some folks from Sports Law Blog who have established an outlet there.
I'm also seeing a lot of this:
Wonder what the journalists who took their first jobs when the typical Facebooker was born think of that?
You're all adults here, I think. What do you think?
I was coaxed into joining by a handful of colleagues who convinced me that social networking and business networking are converging, and Facebook was where this was happening. Fair enough, I thought. I'll give it a try.
It's cleverly built, and it's addictive. I could spend days browsing through all the available widgets. I've also had one legit professional discussion, thanks to some folks from Sports Law Blog who have established an outlet there.
I'm also seeing a lot of this:
Wonder what the journalists who took their first jobs when the typical Facebooker was born think of that?
You're all adults here, I think. What do you think?
Saturday, August 18, 2007
I'm back, I'm back, chum on ...
So as soon as I do the &*(*(#ing rewrite that's been hanging over my head, I'll do that next installment of the Rush series.
In the meantime, Neel apparently has something to tell us about Gwen Stefani. Does it have to do with her former musician husband?
In the meantime, Neel apparently has something to tell us about Gwen Stefani. Does it have to do with her former musician husband?
Friday, August 10, 2007
Check with me in, oh, 10 days
It's that time of year. We've got people taking care of the dog but not the blog. See you next weekend.
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