Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Sunday, October 26, 2008
I am also going to be transitioning SN to its next theme--something to do with the environment. As I recall, I think I've done "Sustainability" before. It takes me a while to settle on such over-arching themes.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Saturday, October 18, 2008
1) An old girlfriend and I are having dinner in my childhood home. Out the kitchen window a hearse passes by. We start up from the table in shock, only to see that an undertaker who looks like Jim from The Office is knocking at the door.
2) I am conducting a cake walk (with a giant white cake as a prize) for what I think are washed up 70's TV stars. It is difficult to tell because every time I try to get a good look at them, I fuck up the record player and they all sit down quickly. The music is a variety of Guy Lombardo, The Smiths, and unrecognizable generic 70s pop rock. There is a little person competing in the cake walk and he swears at me. At one point, I decide that I hate the record I am playing and look for another in the cabinet beneath the record player. I find a broken copy of a Guy Lombardo 78 which I apparently purchased on eBay. Tired of waiting, Farah Fawcett grabs the cake and runs out the door.
3) I am on the side of the road by a guardrail and am in my 20s. I am wearing a contemporary woolen ski cap, giant headphones connected to one of those mod black and thin iPods, a black tee shirt with a white skull on it, and expensive jeans. I have longish black hair with curly locks. Clearly I am not myself. A shiny spot catches my eye in the guardrail and I see that something has been shoved between the seam where metal overlaps the wood. I pull on the hooked end of the gold and it slides out. It turns out to be an earring shaped like an icon for the Buddha of Boundless Light. The music in my headphones swells to a fever pitch. It sounds vaguely familiar, but I cannot place it. The guitar drones into a wail. While I am admiring the golden earring cupped in my palm, a vagrant has ridden up on his bike. HE hops off, letting it fall into the road. He has a white cane meant for the blind and says something. I don't hear him because of the headphones. He says something again and hits my leg with the cane.
I pull my headphones down onto my neck.
"You gotta have something like jerky or chips, man!"
He is asking for food, I surmise.
"Sorry I don't."
"Oh yeah! What's in that bag." He hits my backpack with his cane and it suddenly changes into a switchblade. He threatens me with the knife with a snear.
"Get the fuck out of here!" I yell (and I think I did yell this in my sleep as when I awoke seconds later I swear I heard the words ringing in my ears.) In a deft move I take the knife from him. He begins to cry, his yellow teeth glaring through cracked lips in the harsh sunlight.
I was powerfully hungry when I was startled awake. I had a breakfast of steak and eggs (without the eggs).
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
Monday, October 06, 2008
Delicate Arch--all lit up
Originally uploaded by Theorris
I ventured down to Moab this weekend for a photography and hiking extravaganza. It was a nice getaway. I hadn't been to Arches since the 90s, and it was nice being able to take pictures of things I only remotely remember now. (I didn't have any sort of camera back then, and regret that fact to this day.)
Delicate Arch is probably the most photographed object in Utah, but having made the hike, I had to give it a go. I can see why people like to take pictures of it. Not only does it have a magnificent backdrop, but when the sun hits it right, it lights up like gold. Rather than an arch, however, I started thinking of it as a sort of bell-bottomed Ozymandias, having lost his torso to the sands many eons ago.
There were a group of surly photographers yelling at tourists to get out of their shot whenever the sun came out. I didn't mind the tourists wanting their picture taken underneath the arch as they give a sense of scale, and I can imagine the desire to have your picture taken with it. The only annoying person was an English college student who burst upon the scene (quite literally) and exclaimed with contempt "I thought it was going to be wafer-thin! Pwahh!" She must have been impressed enough by it to risk the wrath of the photographers by brazenly standing underneath it when the sun came out.
Thursday, October 02, 2008
Now what is all this leading to, you ask? Well tonight I had the opportunity to meet Booner at a social function. I didn't delve to much into asking him questions about his career or even about the Jazz, fearing that it would be tedious for him. I am kind of kicking myself now, however, for not mentioning my fond memories of the Utah Stars as a kid.
I did, however, bring up the topic of the dearth of Jazz games on broadcast TV this year. The League, he stated, wants to shift in the direction of having more games on FSN or other such premium cable packages. He was genuinely concerned, however, that many fans would be excluded from viewing games in their homes. It gave me a good chance to make a joke about now being required to visit the bar quite regularly.
He laughed, as did Middlebrow, who was also in the conversation. Middlebrow, of course, has much more basketball cred than I do, being that he is multi-time County League champion.
I hang my head in shame.
Anyway, here I am, at a fundraiser for the Community Writing Center schmozing with him:
The theme for the fundraiser was the Haiku. Booner wrote a Haiku and offered a round of golf with him as well as other Jazz paraphenalia. I boldly placed the first bid for his haiku in the silent auction. I monitored the bidding throughout the night, but was ultimately outbid (substantially) by a woman who was excited that she stamped the floor and squeeled.
Now, fo course, I would ever behave in such a way. I was far too busy trying to figure out how I could work a miracle and improve my golf game in a very short amount of time. Hey, I wouldn't want to be embarrassed in front of a legend now, would I?
Side note: I also lost the bid on a Amiri Baraka "Afro-American Low Coup."