I decided that I was no longer content to live in the shadow of the Rockies. I wanted to hike them instead. So I woke up at 6:15am this morning. Left for Estes Park (Rocky Mountain National Park) at 6:30, arrived around 8:00am. I then took the shuttle up to Bear Lake and began to walk.
But first a meterological note. It was 55 and slightly windy on the Front Range when I left home. It was 30 degrees with winds between 20-30mph (gusting to 40) and snowing when I arrived. I drove into the park and could not see mountains.
I arrived at the trail head and selected an easy hike. I'd promised myself that I wouldn't over do it. Though those are promises easily made and always broken. I walked to Nymph Lake (about .5 miles, with a gain of 225 feet in elevation, which is more than you'd think). (note the photo links are to some idealized photos...I'm sure it looks like that sometime. but not in my photos, which are found at extra-vaganza)
It was cold. It was nasty. I struggled to take photos because of the wind and pelting snow pellets. Then I thought, well my blood is pumping and I drove 1.5 hours...better go on. So I walked the .6 more to Dream Lake. More elevation gained. Same problems with wind. I think thought...I'll go further and took some the trail to Lake Hiayah...until it ended in a boulder field covered in 3 foot snow drifts. I couldn't figure out where the trail was, nor where it was leading. I figured I'd walked about 1.5 miles thus far, so I was safe to head back. On the way back something brilliant happened. The sun began to burn off the clouds. I started to be able to see mountains.
But I'd used up all my film at this point, so most of those photos are dark and dreary. Returned to Bear Lake, and felt chipper. So I hiked down to Glacier Gorge .5 miles and took the Alberta Falls trail, another .6 miles. By this time my hands were usable, my ears were no longer shockingly red. Life was treating Aaron B, a-ok. I continued past the falls another .2 miles or so. Then thought, I should go back. And so I did. I finished my hike having covered 5.6 miles (1.5x2 to Dream Lake and points north, and 1.3x2 to Alberta Falls).
I boarded the nifty little shuttle that takes you from Bear Lake to the "Park and Ride." By this time the sun was out in full force, my socks were getting a little drier, and I was wishing I had more film. At the parking lot is a little shop with maps and the like...and FILM. I bought more. I took the nearest trail, Bierstadt Lake Trail. This was about 1.8 miles. I set out. Those photos came out wonderfully. The lake is surrounded by mountains. It's just an amazing walk. So to recap...clear skies, warming sun, good brisk walk (of about 9 miles), some decent photos, and amazing mountains--it's enough for me to think about giving to the Sierra Club.
I'll post some of the photos over on .Extra Vaganza
Monday, May 31, 2004
Sunday, May 30, 2004
I'll have to ask you to leave: Aaron's adventures in English
I grew up with parents who could write. Both my parents were and still are fine writers. My mother is much more of a grammarian (if that's a word, and even if it's not, that's what she is) than is my father. He writes more like me, or rather, I write more like he does. Growing up as an ADHD kid punctuation was never really something at which I excelled (witness....all previous entries). I knew how the words and sentences were to sound when spoken, but getting the same results with written words just seemed beyond me. Sometimes it still does. I always wanted there to be inflection markings, and intonation symbols. Though, it's not like I was able to master the basics, so wishing for advanced tools seems sorta silly. Like a child complaining that his fisher price my first tool kit doesn't have a beveled router.
Elementary school and parts of high school are often consumed, from a writing stand point, with either fanciful essays, poetry, and the like or with essentially technical writing. I've never been much for poetry (always seemed to me the essence was to find a way to imply or hint at something instead of just saying it: "that girl is pretty, if she liked me, I'd be happier."") And fantasy or fiction (either) has never really felt right (though I did a stint in play writing, but that was later). So long story short, most of the means by which writing was evaluated played to someone else's strength. Despite this I found myself in advanced or AP classes throughout. Mainly because if you're smart you can get by force of intellect, rather than through some demonstrated aptitude or talent.
After 4 years of high school english, I liked writing, but still carried the stigma of my inability to correctly place a comma, or prevent Joycian run on sentences. So I refused to take English at Oberlin. I wouldn't do it. I was a freshman, and was terrified that everyone else at Oberlin could write and that I was just not that good.
Freshman year came and went. I was writing a lot. I was writing fairly well. Professors would point out my flaws (lots) but generally seemed supportive. I maintained my no-English policy. I was really just afraid. There is something horrible about failing at something that you were pretty sure you'd fail at ( I know I ended that with a preposition...shut it). Oh, I should point out I was dating an English major by this time (since Dec of Freshman year). I would read her things, they were impeccably punctuated but rarely seemed to say a whole lot. It was like making the concrete to secure a mailbox. She never failed to get everything in the right order, structure and proportions, but it wasn't art. It was assembly.
Junior year rises and I decide to take an English course. I look through the course book and eliminate anything that suggests literary criticism (a subject I've convinced myself I'd not understand) or any "hard" authors. As you might imagine this knocks a more than a few courses out of the running. In fact it leaves English 50. Less than half of English 101. Perfect. I give the course description a cursory glance, "learn to apply grammar...improve technique...hone writing skills." I'm sold. I sign up.
The first day of class I show up, and am the only American in the room. I am, I believe, the only college student (as opposed to Conservatory student) there. The collected talents of that room could have created a mighty symphony, but writers (at least in English) were few and far between. Going around the room, we said our names, and it felt like Ellis Island. Everyone in the room had very good, and pronounced reasons for struggling with the language. I felt like a ringer.
We were asked to answer a few questions on the back of the syllabus and pass them to Professor Cooper. I finished with the assignment in about 15 minutes. I sat and waited. Twenty five minutes passed until the next student finished. I was beginning to think that maybe this wasn't the right class for me.
The next morning I received an email confirming my suspicion. The exact text of which I do not remember. The essence was this: I'm going to have to ask that you drop this course. It's clearly not right for you." I never tried to take another English course. So this may help to explain why I managed to graduate from Oberlin having read, 4 fiction books. Sadly my peers and educators were liberal, but my education was something else (at least vis a vis the hallmark of the liberal arts--english).
Elementary school and parts of high school are often consumed, from a writing stand point, with either fanciful essays, poetry, and the like or with essentially technical writing. I've never been much for poetry (always seemed to me the essence was to find a way to imply or hint at something instead of just saying it: "that girl is pretty, if she liked me, I'd be happier."") And fantasy or fiction (either) has never really felt right (though I did a stint in play writing, but that was later). So long story short, most of the means by which writing was evaluated played to someone else's strength. Despite this I found myself in advanced or AP classes throughout. Mainly because if you're smart you can get by force of intellect, rather than through some demonstrated aptitude or talent.
After 4 years of high school english, I liked writing, but still carried the stigma of my inability to correctly place a comma, or prevent Joycian run on sentences. So I refused to take English at Oberlin. I wouldn't do it. I was a freshman, and was terrified that everyone else at Oberlin could write and that I was just not that good.
Freshman year came and went. I was writing a lot. I was writing fairly well. Professors would point out my flaws (lots) but generally seemed supportive. I maintained my no-English policy. I was really just afraid. There is something horrible about failing at something that you were pretty sure you'd fail at ( I know I ended that with a preposition...shut it). Oh, I should point out I was dating an English major by this time (since Dec of Freshman year). I would read her things, they were impeccably punctuated but rarely seemed to say a whole lot. It was like making the concrete to secure a mailbox. She never failed to get everything in the right order, structure and proportions, but it wasn't art. It was assembly.
Junior year rises and I decide to take an English course. I look through the course book and eliminate anything that suggests literary criticism (a subject I've convinced myself I'd not understand) or any "hard" authors. As you might imagine this knocks a more than a few courses out of the running. In fact it leaves English 50. Less than half of English 101. Perfect. I give the course description a cursory glance, "learn to apply grammar...improve technique...hone writing skills." I'm sold. I sign up.
The first day of class I show up, and am the only American in the room. I am, I believe, the only college student (as opposed to Conservatory student) there. The collected talents of that room could have created a mighty symphony, but writers (at least in English) were few and far between. Going around the room, we said our names, and it felt like Ellis Island. Everyone in the room had very good, and pronounced reasons for struggling with the language. I felt like a ringer.
We were asked to answer a few questions on the back of the syllabus and pass them to Professor Cooper. I finished with the assignment in about 15 minutes. I sat and waited. Twenty five minutes passed until the next student finished. I was beginning to think that maybe this wasn't the right class for me.
The next morning I received an email confirming my suspicion. The exact text of which I do not remember. The essence was this: I'm going to have to ask that you drop this course. It's clearly not right for you." I never tried to take another English course. So this may help to explain why I managed to graduate from Oberlin having read, 4 fiction books. Sadly my peers and educators were liberal, but my education was something else (at least vis a vis the hallmark of the liberal arts--english).
Thursday, May 27, 2004
Should I cut my beard
My candidate's wife suggests that I am intimidating at the door. That I must be scaring people when they first see me. I find this strange, and almost flattering. I've never really been told I was intimidating. Ann once described me as intimidating when we first had a class together...I was apparently the scary arguing guy in that class. But I don't think anyone, small children, insects, elderly women has ever really found me intimidating. But the question remains? Should I cut my beard?
My natural inclination is to say no. But Jake Taylor suggested I poll my readers and ask you guys...it's easier than sending some email.
So, should Aaron remove from his face stubble and hair (leaving eybrows, and lashes).
My natural inclination is to say no. But Jake Taylor suggested I poll my readers and ask you guys...it's easier than sending some email.
So, should Aaron remove from his face stubble and hair (leaving eybrows, and lashes).
Wednesday, May 26, 2004
Because sometimes it just feels right to cry.
I was looking through the A Prairie Home Companion online archive...from the show the day after Paul died. I knew it'd make me sad. But sometimes that's alright. I used to watch parts of the memorial on particularly hard days on the Dean campaign. Just to remind me why I stay with politics. Why it's worth the bullshit, and the frustation, the rude looks and the long hours.
http://prairiehome.publicradio.org/programs/20021026/
Somedays it's nice to just have a tingle in the spine and a few tears bubbling up.
http://prairiehome.publicradio.org/programs/20021026/
Somedays it's nice to just have a tingle in the spine and a few tears bubbling up.
I spoke too soon
I must have angered the culinary gods, because last night was a fiasco. I set a pan out with oil in it, I was going to make french fries. I walked away and in a matter of 3 minutes my apartment was filled with thick choking smoke. It was this way that I discovered my smoke detector doesn't work. So that's on the agenda for today..get a working smoke detector. I'm not sure what happened, I've never seen oil burn so readily. But it's justice for my hubritic proclamations about my cooking prowess.
Ended up making spaghetti-os. A final humiliation. But fitting.
Heading out canvassing tonight. We're making good progress, and it's particularly nice when Bob gets to the door and sees children that he reads to over at Bacon Elementary (named for him). They think he's a minor celebrity.
Went for my first timed run today. I ran just a mile. I ran it in 7:50.48. Not good, but nothing horrible. I remember that I once ran a mile in 6:09. But that was about 6 years and 40 lbs ago. I'm hoping that by the end of the campaign I can break 7 minutes. Just for comparison..the world record is 3:43.13. I ran the first half mile in 3:38...Hicham El Guerroujin (world record holder) runs a full mile in roughly the time it took me to run a half. Though I'm kicking Grant Hackett's ass (he holds the world freestlye swimming) took him 14:34.56. Slow poke.
While trying to find the fastest mile run, I was taken (or selected) the Guinness World Records site. I find those things kind of strange. Here are some of the strangest that I found (that weren't just gross...
Fastest Winkel Picker..what's that. The most soap bubbles blown with a live tarantula in ones mouth...most women breast feeding simultaneously.
Ended up making spaghetti-os. A final humiliation. But fitting.
Heading out canvassing tonight. We're making good progress, and it's particularly nice when Bob gets to the door and sees children that he reads to over at Bacon Elementary (named for him). They think he's a minor celebrity.
Went for my first timed run today. I ran just a mile. I ran it in 7:50.48. Not good, but nothing horrible. I remember that I once ran a mile in 6:09. But that was about 6 years and 40 lbs ago. I'm hoping that by the end of the campaign I can break 7 minutes. Just for comparison..the world record is 3:43.13. I ran the first half mile in 3:38...Hicham El Guerroujin (world record holder) runs a full mile in roughly the time it took me to run a half. Though I'm kicking Grant Hackett's ass (he holds the world freestlye swimming) took him 14:34.56. Slow poke.
While trying to find the fastest mile run, I was taken (or selected) the Guinness World Records site. I find those things kind of strange. Here are some of the strangest that I found (that weren't just gross...
Fastest Winkel Picker..what's that. The most soap bubbles blown with a live tarantula in ones mouth...most women breast feeding simultaneously.
Tuesday, May 25, 2004
All the ferrets in colorado
I get paid to prod/cajole/inspire and sometimes just tell people what to do with the most private of all public expressions of personal belief. That's my job. I talk about politics all day, and that's one of those things that you aren't supposed to mention in polite company. (though in fairness no one has accused me of following the other rules about polite company).
Odd. Speaking of which, I met someone yesterday who has 2 ferrets. I cannot have one dog because of the transient and disjointed life I lead...and here she has two ferrets. Unfair. Though truth be told I wouldn't trade my work for all the ferrets in Colorado.
Odd. Speaking of which, I met someone yesterday who has 2 ferrets. I cannot have one dog because of the transient and disjointed life I lead...and here she has two ferrets. Unfair. Though truth be told I wouldn't trade my work for all the ferrets in Colorado.
It's About Time
For years I've watched the Iron Chef, Good Eats, 30 Minute Meals, Food 911 and listened to the Splendid Table. But rarely have I made anything of any real quality.
Oh, but the last two nights, I have turned the (dinner) tables on my culinary woes. Last night was pan seared tuna steak. I don't have a whole lot in the way of groceries. So I patted on kosher salt and pepper and seared it in a pan with olive oil. Then I made homefries to go along with it. Now, I don't pretend that either of these are challenging. In fact pan searing tuna may be about the easiest thing to do. The key part is that I did it, it worked, and so help me god, I'll do it again.
Tonight also involved tuna. Having come back from meetings that made me yearn for the free-for-alls we called Student Senate, I wasn't really planning on cooking. But then I realized I'd spent the money budgeted for food on 2 cds (my first real official copy of American Water (Silver jews), and the newest Will Oldham album). So cooking was key. I started with farfalle pasta. In the wok I put sliced red and green peppers, then mushrooms, green olives, and finally green onions. Adding Kosher salt, cracked black pepper, and some garlic salt. Then some canned tuna. Mixed it up. add the two skillets together...and you know it was quite good. Again, nothing impressive, except that I had the patience to do so. Hell I even cleaned up after myself. Some of you know me well enough to have lived with me. Some of you will just have to imagine the great leap forward these developments represent. We're talking Russia moving from backwards "3rd world" country to industrialized power. That kind of leap.
What does tomorrow's dinner hold in store...who knows. But I'm guessing something easy, because I'm playing frisbee tomorrow. and I'm going to be insanely tired.
Oh, but the last two nights, I have turned the (dinner) tables on my culinary woes. Last night was pan seared tuna steak. I don't have a whole lot in the way of groceries. So I patted on kosher salt and pepper and seared it in a pan with olive oil. Then I made homefries to go along with it. Now, I don't pretend that either of these are challenging. In fact pan searing tuna may be about the easiest thing to do. The key part is that I did it, it worked, and so help me god, I'll do it again.
Tonight also involved tuna. Having come back from meetings that made me yearn for the free-for-alls we called Student Senate, I wasn't really planning on cooking. But then I realized I'd spent the money budgeted for food on 2 cds (my first real official copy of American Water (Silver jews), and the newest Will Oldham album). So cooking was key. I started with farfalle pasta. In the wok I put sliced red and green peppers, then mushrooms, green olives, and finally green onions. Adding Kosher salt, cracked black pepper, and some garlic salt. Then some canned tuna. Mixed it up. add the two skillets together...and you know it was quite good. Again, nothing impressive, except that I had the patience to do so. Hell I even cleaned up after myself. Some of you know me well enough to have lived with me. Some of you will just have to imagine the great leap forward these developments represent. We're talking Russia moving from backwards "3rd world" country to industrialized power. That kind of leap.
What does tomorrow's dinner hold in store...who knows. But I'm guessing something easy, because I'm playing frisbee tomorrow. and I'm going to be insanely tired.
Sunday, May 23, 2004
Where I run
Pineridge Natural Area
Size: 618 acres
Key Habitats: Shortgrass prairie, foothills shrubland, foot hills pine forest.
Adjacent to 40-acre Dixon Reservoir.
Description: The site contains a large prairie dog colony. Mule deer are common in the forest, especially in winter. Red-tailed hawks nest in the pines. A variety of foothills birds and small mammals are found here. The rare Bell’s twinpod grows on the ridge on the east side. The adjacent reservoir supports migrant waterfowl and other waterbirds. Pelicans, ospreys, and bald eagles use this natural area. Mature cottonwoods and willows provide habitat for migrant songbirds, including vireos and warblers. Over 150 bird species have been seen here. Features: Parking lots at County Road 42C and at the east end of Horsetooth Road; access from Foothills Trail; 3 miles of soft-surface trails; restroom.
Where You Are Likely to Encounter Rattlesnakes:
Rattlesnakes like rocky outcrops, rocky stream courses, and ledges. They may den in mammal burrows, rock crevices, or caves. They may be on the trails – either going across the trail as they move from one place to another or laying on a paved trail to soak up warmth. They also may be in grasses and other vegetation beside a trail.
Oh yeah...and there is this...
There are several Fort Collins natural areas where you are likely to encounter rattlesnakes:
Pineridge Natural Area. (There is an emergency telephone at the Dixon Reservoir parking lot.)
Size: 618 acres
Key Habitats: Shortgrass prairie, foothills shrubland, foot hills pine forest.
Adjacent to 40-acre Dixon Reservoir.
Description: The site contains a large prairie dog colony. Mule deer are common in the forest, especially in winter. Red-tailed hawks nest in the pines. A variety of foothills birds and small mammals are found here. The rare Bell’s twinpod grows on the ridge on the east side. The adjacent reservoir supports migrant waterfowl and other waterbirds. Pelicans, ospreys, and bald eagles use this natural area. Mature cottonwoods and willows provide habitat for migrant songbirds, including vireos and warblers. Over 150 bird species have been seen here. Features: Parking lots at County Road 42C and at the east end of Horsetooth Road; access from Foothills Trail; 3 miles of soft-surface trails; restroom.
Where You Are Likely to Encounter Rattlesnakes:
Rattlesnakes like rocky outcrops, rocky stream courses, and ledges. They may den in mammal burrows, rock crevices, or caves. They may be on the trails – either going across the trail as they move from one place to another or laying on a paved trail to soak up warmth. They also may be in grasses and other vegetation beside a trail.
Oh yeah...and there is this...
There are several Fort Collins natural areas where you are likely to encounter rattlesnakes:
Pineridge Natural Area. (There is an emergency telephone at the Dixon Reservoir parking lot.)
Sound Track to State House Races
In the Summer of 2000 I stayed in Oberlin. I was a Cole scholar and I worked for Natalie Mosher. About three weeks into the campaign (for me) "The Moon and Antarctica" (Modest Mouse) came out. It became my soundtrack for that summer. I listened to it over and over and over.
I have a feeling that "Good News for People Who Love Bad News" is going to be the same thing this time. I found a place to watch the new "Float On" video. It's amazingly strange. I don't know what to compare it to, except that there is some part of me that connects it to the theater scene in Mulholland Drive and the 7 Nation Army video. It also sort of feels like a happier version of some of Tool's videos. None of these are very rational associations, but see for yourself.
FLOAT ON
If that doesn't work...go here
One final note...I swear that Isaac Brock (lead singer) bears a remarkable ressemblence to DFA's own Beau W.
I have a feeling that "Good News for People Who Love Bad News" is going to be the same thing this time. I found a place to watch the new "Float On" video. It's amazingly strange. I don't know what to compare it to, except that there is some part of me that connects it to the theater scene in Mulholland Drive and the 7 Nation Army video. It also sort of feels like a happier version of some of Tool's videos. None of these are very rational associations, but see for yourself.
FLOAT ON
If that doesn't work...go here
One final note...I swear that Isaac Brock (lead singer) bears a remarkable ressemblence to DFA's own Beau W.
Lazy Boy(s)
Yesterday my uncle marty visited. It's been entirely too long since we'd been able to spend time together. It was a nice visit. He has this tendency to never let you pay for anything. I remember as a child my parents, sister and I would travel to Colorado to see my uncle and aunt. And he would find a way to pay for gas, or the bill at a restaurant. Happened again. I now have free furniture. I own a second/third/11th hand lazy boy. I love it. I've always wanted a lazy boy (we never had one growing up). I have a desk. I also have a plunger, trashcan, and screwdriver. All acquired yesterday in various trips to the many stores of Fort Collins.
I myself have felt lazy. It is a hard thing to be ones own boss. I have been struggling, I worry I'm not working hard enough, I worry about nearly everything. Like in sports, I never want to wonder if I could have gotten the disk by laying out...always lay out, then you know it was or was not beyond your reach. It can be hard. But I'm starting to realize that I'll be alright. I needn't worry so much. And that sometimes, not always, but sometimes my personal notion of lazy is very far removed from the general usage of that term. I'm eager to get to work and really start kicking some ass. It'll be a challenging race, but one that we can win.
I myself have felt lazy. It is a hard thing to be ones own boss. I have been struggling, I worry I'm not working hard enough, I worry about nearly everything. Like in sports, I never want to wonder if I could have gotten the disk by laying out...always lay out, then you know it was or was not beyond your reach. It can be hard. But I'm starting to realize that I'll be alright. I needn't worry so much. And that sometimes, not always, but sometimes my personal notion of lazy is very far removed from the general usage of that term. I'm eager to get to work and really start kicking some ass. It'll be a challenging race, but one that we can win.
Saturday, May 22, 2004
What should aaron be listening to...?
I'm trying to find new bands (or at least new to me) to listen to. Suggestions
Right now I'm listening to the newest Modest Mouse, and Maps, some stuff from The Darkness. What else. JKD, where are your music reviews now?
Right now I'm listening to the newest Modest Mouse, and Maps, some stuff from The Darkness. What else. JKD, where are your music reviews now?
"ACE is the Place...
...with the helpful hardware folks", or so says the jingle. I went to ACE hardware today to pickup a shower curtain and dishwasher detergent. Glamorous trip, to be certain. I counted no fewer than 16 people milling around the floor aiding everyone in sight. Twice I was with in 3 feet of two sales associates at the same time. I asked how many people they had on staff, (keep in mind this is a small hardware store, not Home Depot, roughly the 1.25 times size of a Blockbuster video) the answer was 52. Everyone was helpful, kind and pleasant. I think there may have been more than 16--but it's hard to count all the 17 year old guys looked the same, short cropped brown hair, baby-face, fairly good looking in the way that you know they'll always be able to find dates, but won't model. It was surreal.
I was told before I arrived in Fort Collins that it receives 300 days of sunshine per year. It has rained 6 of the 11 days I've been here (well, actually it snowed two of those days). It rained again today.
I was told before I arrived in Fort Collins that it receives 300 days of sunshine per year. It has rained 6 of the 11 days I've been here (well, actually it snowed two of those days). It rained again today.
Friday, May 21, 2004
If you love DFA, like I love DFA....
Then you will love the collection of photos I just posted to Extra Vaganza. I have about 40 photos of the Des Moines crew. Sadly, not very many out of towners. I'm only going to post some, but will provide a link to the rest.
As I continue to find other photos that I think might be fun to share..they will appear on Extra Vaganza. Also, there are newly posted photos of DC and home. I'll be posting more photos as time allows.
As I continue to find other photos that I think might be fun to share..they will appear on Extra Vaganza. Also, there are newly posted photos of DC and home. I'll be posting more photos as time allows.
Good and Bad
Good news and bad news.
First the bad.
We had our first canvass last night. I am, for some reason, made much more uncomfortable walking than I am running. I cannot understand this, but I can play frisbee for hours, but a long walk really hurts my joints. I have to imagine it's in my head...but all the same. The walk went well. Got lots of people at home, some friendly, others not as much.
I cut off part of the top of my index finger. I realize that that sounds worse than it is. But I do have a sizable divot out of the first nuckle on my first finger. When you are chopping/cutting you're supposed to tuck your fingers under and expose only the nuckle to the blade. I did this, sadly I exposed the nuckle to the blade directly. Bled a fair bit. But I'm bandaged, so all is well. Wonder what it'll look like when it heals.
The Good.
We had our first canvass last night. My candidate is great at the door, and full of energy.
I now have a campaign phone.
I now have cable tv and internet at home
I went for a run and saw prairie dogs. Honest to god prairie dogs. Little furry animals with holes in the ground out of which they "pop" and peer. My new running area is near my apartment. It butts up against a large cliff/hill/mountain, and traces a route around this shallow lake. The area is surrounded on three sides by prairie. Kind of a neat place to run.
First the bad.
We had our first canvass last night. I am, for some reason, made much more uncomfortable walking than I am running. I cannot understand this, but I can play frisbee for hours, but a long walk really hurts my joints. I have to imagine it's in my head...but all the same. The walk went well. Got lots of people at home, some friendly, others not as much.
I cut off part of the top of my index finger. I realize that that sounds worse than it is. But I do have a sizable divot out of the first nuckle on my first finger. When you are chopping/cutting you're supposed to tuck your fingers under and expose only the nuckle to the blade. I did this, sadly I exposed the nuckle to the blade directly. Bled a fair bit. But I'm bandaged, so all is well. Wonder what it'll look like when it heals.
The Good.
We had our first canvass last night. My candidate is great at the door, and full of energy.
I now have a campaign phone.
I now have cable tv and internet at home
I went for a run and saw prairie dogs. Honest to god prairie dogs. Little furry animals with holes in the ground out of which they "pop" and peer. My new running area is near my apartment. It butts up against a large cliff/hill/mountain, and traces a route around this shallow lake. The area is surrounded on three sides by prairie. Kind of a neat place to run.
Thursday, May 20, 2004
Socially Acceptible Addiction
I've often wished that I was addicted to coffee. And to a much smaller degree, I've wished that I smoked. There is something about these two vices that seems somehow acceptible, reinforced. Tolerated. I was talking about this with Jen (who, living in the capitol of all coffee excess, Seattle, seems the best person to vent to about my lack of coffee love).
"I know nothing about coffee. I once (and only once) ordered an espresso at the Java Zone. This was 2nd week freshman year. I drank it, disliked it. And within about 45 minutes I feel asleep...the time was 6:00pm. I was out cold. I tried to like coffee, but I only really like the frufru stuff...caramel macchiato. and I cannot bring myself to say those kinds of words, so my career as a coffee drinker seems doomed to failure.
And I'm okay with that, I think. I tend to be pretty high energy without caffeine. Though I like the idea of liking coffee, much like I sorta wish I were a smoker. There is something grounding, and communal about those addictions. Something societally accepted, and nearly reinforced about those moments taken for ones self. It's like that with running. No one questions that I take time to run. If I said I was taking the same amount of time to fly fish, or play frisbee it would be taboo. Something about certain rituals screams...normal while seemingly similar rituals are frivolous. Strange."
The structure, pacing, ritual and gadgets and persnickety nature of true coffee addicts is appealing. JKD can be like that with tea. It's a fine trait. To be so immersed in the appreciation and enjoyment of an act that you have certain standards that must be met. I don't think I have anything like that. I don't have a hobby or routine from which I demand "the best." I tend to be kind of hard on myself, so maybe that's my hobby...work. Speaking of which, today started to feel like a campaign. That first pang of disappointment that accompanies the loss of free time. That sense that the fun things you could be doing today are impossible, nearly mythical. I'm going to strive for some balance. But few of the folks reading this believe me. My dad always says the people are similar to the stock market, past behavior is the best predictor of future results. I'm guessing this holds true here as well...and that I don't find balance. That rather I willingly and quickly relinquish most control over my work and allow myself to be dominant and dominated by that routine and that ritual.
Incidentally, as I write all this I'm in a coffe bar, enjoying a wonderful hot chocolate. Couldn't stand the idea of saying "snicker doodle dandy." or caramel frappucino or whatever coffee is these days.
"I know nothing about coffee. I once (and only once) ordered an espresso at the Java Zone. This was 2nd week freshman year. I drank it, disliked it. And within about 45 minutes I feel asleep...the time was 6:00pm. I was out cold. I tried to like coffee, but I only really like the frufru stuff...caramel macchiato. and I cannot bring myself to say those kinds of words, so my career as a coffee drinker seems doomed to failure.
And I'm okay with that, I think. I tend to be pretty high energy without caffeine. Though I like the idea of liking coffee, much like I sorta wish I were a smoker. There is something grounding, and communal about those addictions. Something societally accepted, and nearly reinforced about those moments taken for ones self. It's like that with running. No one questions that I take time to run. If I said I was taking the same amount of time to fly fish, or play frisbee it would be taboo. Something about certain rituals screams...normal while seemingly similar rituals are frivolous. Strange."
The structure, pacing, ritual and gadgets and persnickety nature of true coffee addicts is appealing. JKD can be like that with tea. It's a fine trait. To be so immersed in the appreciation and enjoyment of an act that you have certain standards that must be met. I don't think I have anything like that. I don't have a hobby or routine from which I demand "the best." I tend to be kind of hard on myself, so maybe that's my hobby...work. Speaking of which, today started to feel like a campaign. That first pang of disappointment that accompanies the loss of free time. That sense that the fun things you could be doing today are impossible, nearly mythical. I'm going to strive for some balance. But few of the folks reading this believe me. My dad always says the people are similar to the stock market, past behavior is the best predictor of future results. I'm guessing this holds true here as well...and that I don't find balance. That rather I willingly and quickly relinquish most control over my work and allow myself to be dominant and dominated by that routine and that ritual.
Incidentally, as I write all this I'm in a coffe bar, enjoying a wonderful hot chocolate. Couldn't stand the idea of saying "snicker doodle dandy." or caramel frappucino or whatever coffee is these days.
Wednesday, May 19, 2004
First Night in the New Place
Tonight will be my first night in my new place. I've already pretty much set things up (don't have much, so it's easy to place it all).
On the agenda for the next 12 hours.
1. Review some targeting files--get to play around with excel.
2. Make dinner (I'm thinking an omlette sounds good, maybe with some feta cheese, or with green peppers.
3. Work on a rough draft of a field plan
4. Watch Royal Tennenbaums while drinking a Fat Tire Ale or three
5. Lay down on the floor, and go to sleep (I have no bed).
6. Get up at 7:00am.
7. Go running
8. Begin my first real day as the leader of this campaign.
On the agenda for the next 12 hours.
1. Review some targeting files--get to play around with excel.
2. Make dinner (I'm thinking an omlette sounds good, maybe with some feta cheese, or with green peppers.
3. Work on a rough draft of a field plan
4. Watch Royal Tennenbaums while drinking a Fat Tire Ale or three
5. Lay down on the floor, and go to sleep (I have no bed).
6. Get up at 7:00am.
7. Go running
8. Begin my first real day as the leader of this campaign.
Aaron's long nightmare of homeless ends
A little more than a week ago my personal nightmare of unemployment ended. I rolled into Fort Collins, and again had an occupation, and purpose. Today, I end my week long battle with "homelessness."
I have found a place to live. It's a 2BR place. I will have to find furniture and the like. But it's a place to hang my hat(s) and a way to create personal space. Victory is Mine!
I'll send along photos...oh wait, I don't have a camera. Well, if and when the camera gets fixed (or if I buy a new one...now only 270 bucks) I'll share my new homestead with y'all.
I have found a place to live. It's a 2BR place. I will have to find furniture and the like. But it's a place to hang my hat(s) and a way to create personal space. Victory is Mine!
I'll send along photos...oh wait, I don't have a camera. Well, if and when the camera gets fixed (or if I buy a new one...now only 270 bucks) I'll share my new homestead with y'all.
Just Plain Nice
I find that the people here are just plain nice. People are friendly and nod and wave as they pass you. I feel comfortable here. It's a bit like La Crosse. A good town. For instance today I drove by an elementary school and these kids were playing some version of four-square/volley ball/soccer, essentially trying to keep the ball off the ground. This little girl "bumped" the ball out of the playground and into the street. The ball bounced just behind my car, and as I looked into the rearview mirror the car behind me was pulling over to retrieve the ball for the kids. It was a small and simple act. I could learn to like it here.
Tuesday, May 18, 2004
Signs signs everywhere are signs
1) There is a taxidermist outside of Fort Collins that has on the sign for his business the following:
TAXIDERMIST
We support our troops.
I for one think this is just a bit morbid, or at least strange. You'd think they'd have it on a yard sign or something like that.
2) There is a sign in the Big Thompson Canyon that states: "In case of flood climb to safety." Colorado loves me, this I know, because the sign suggests it's so.
3) I saw a sign outside Fort Collins that said: "Fog conditions may exist." Very philosophical for your standard issue yellow highway sign. "I am a cloud formed of droplets of water collecting in low lying areas and will burn off in the midday, there for I am."
In other news
I cannot hit an outside jumper to save my damn life. I played some kid named Cole (an indication that he's young, probably born during the run of Married with Children) and got beat. Badly. Cole is very nice. 16. 6'4. Better than me. I am bad. This makes me angry, as I don't like to lose. So I will run harder tomorrow morning.
I have an apartment (I think). It is a 2BR place. It is in a not so great neighborhood. I am thrilled. I will begin to buy groceries, and have dinner alone. I will drink beer. I will be alone--but in the healthy, not underfoot way.
These are good developments. More on (moron..heh) Aaron's life at 11, back to you Frank.
TAXIDERMIST
We support our troops.
I for one think this is just a bit morbid, or at least strange. You'd think they'd have it on a yard sign or something like that.
2) There is a sign in the Big Thompson Canyon that states: "In case of flood climb to safety." Colorado loves me, this I know, because the sign suggests it's so.
3) I saw a sign outside Fort Collins that said: "Fog conditions may exist." Very philosophical for your standard issue yellow highway sign. "I am a cloud formed of droplets of water collecting in low lying areas and will burn off in the midday, there for I am."
In other news
I cannot hit an outside jumper to save my damn life. I played some kid named Cole (an indication that he's young, probably born during the run of Married with Children) and got beat. Badly. Cole is very nice. 16. 6'4. Better than me. I am bad. This makes me angry, as I don't like to lose. So I will run harder tomorrow morning.
I have an apartment (I think). It is a 2BR place. It is in a not so great neighborhood. I am thrilled. I will begin to buy groceries, and have dinner alone. I will drink beer. I will be alone--but in the healthy, not underfoot way.
These are good developments. More on (moron..heh) Aaron's life at 11, back to you Frank.
As dark as me: Nebraska loves its radio.
This is the final installment in the serial work: Aaron Goes to Colorado, or "Miles to Go Before I Sleep." It makes much more sense if you start with the first one.
The morning of day two (Tuesday) rose murky and ominous. I woke up several times in my hyper-prayerful hotel. Things were wrong. I slept fitfully. I never sleep that way. I am a fine fine sleeper.
As I had been doing for the past 20 hours I again recalculated the time of arrival based on a crude estimate of the degree to which I was comfortable speeding. I determined that if I left at 8:00am CST I would arrive at 3pm MDT. I frankly don't remember if this calculation was accurate. When I'm in the middle of a long run, bike ride or a car trip I occupy my time with calculations about the average speed, and the miles covered, etc. It's odd especially given that I'm quite bad at doing math in my head, so I often forget the numbers I'm adding/subtracting/dividing and have to start again. It's something to pass the time and numb the body to the tedium being experienced.
I left the Settle Inn at around 7:58am. I had, as on the first day, an ample supply of cds. But I get into ruts. There are times that I will want to listen to one album or even one song over and over and over. Realizing that the middle of Nebraska is devoid of nouns (people, places or things) I decided to save my choice cds for later. This meant morning shows and promotions for radio events.
About 20 miles from Lincoln I heard the radio host stroking the ego of some musician.
HOST: "You really innovate, you bring a classical and professional sensibility to all your instruments and really never stop giving us great musical hits."
GUEST: "Thanks."
HOST: "My guest has been Someone from Manheim Steamroller. They never disappoint, and that's why Lincoln loves them so much. This Friday the Strategic Air Command Museum presents Manheim Steamroller, in a benefit concert for the B-1 Bomber restoration fund." I couldn't make this shit up if I tried. First off, I didn't think Manheim Steamroller was still around. Or worthy of ego massage. Second, the Strategic Air Command has a museum, and that museum is hosting "rock" concerts. And these concerts benefit, not say veterans' families, or the promotion of math and science in the classroom but rather the restoration of the B-1 bomber. The world is a magical place and I'm often confused.
After that the next radio station I found was about 30 miles east of Grand Island and featured a cast member from Survivor. Apparently said cast member went to some Survivor related cast reunion wherein he was given a gift bag. This bag was being given to caller number-whatever. This survivor had failed to open the gift bag, so the items available were being discovered on the air. They included a travel bottle of shampoo, sample size body gel, a mini bottle of aspirin, deodorant, and in a small nicely wrapped package which he opened on the air: tampons. That's right he was given tampons by CBS. This was for the hosts involved as funny as anything that had ever happened, and I found myself laughing more than a bit. The survivor agreed to sign the tampons, and a woman called to request just the tampons. She was assured that she and she alone would receive these miracles of cotton and plastic.
Past Grand Island there aren't many things. I don't even think glaciers came that far. The last town I found before I had to turn the page on the map was West Platte. Outside of W. Platte I heard two other great radio moments. The mayor of West Platte was running for reelection. She said, "you know me as an authentic mayor..." I have no idea what this means. I like to think that her opponent has also claimed to be the incumbent mayor, and that she (the real mayor) is desperately trying to correct this misconception in the voters' minds. No more than a minute later I heard an ad for a combination fitness center tanning place, the name of which I forget. Potentially, "the tannorium", or "Crazy Jerry's House of Baked Flesh", "Gym 'n Such". The voice over guy for this place was clearly that of an African American. The best line of his entire schpiel about this place was: "come to our tanning booths, in a matter of minutes you'll be as dark as me." Holy shit. There is something almost campy about the apparent comfort that Nebraskans have with what seem to me overtly inappropriate if not racist comments. Though I must admit neither this nor the comment from the first day seemed to suggest malice.
After that little happened to me in Nebraska. I drove and I drove and I drove. In the far west of Nebraska the plains give way to these eruptions, outcroppings. In the Midwest the landscape is corsetted. It's held tight, forced down, flattened, it's proper, bound up. The Midwest is always struggling with this, rise and elevation are travelled to, but we always return to the staid and sturdy. This part of Nebraska was un-corsetted. It was uneven, bulbous, explosive, sagging and refreshing, raw, and seemingly as "authentic" as geology can allow. But it quickly receeded into the monotomy of the plains, like an affair at a Las Vegas conference. All of this then leads to a description of the Rockies, which I guess would have to be the wonder bra region (to continue well past the point of sense, this metaphor). Structured, forced, surreal, seemingly impossible, and more than just a little disturbing how that much land can exist in the same place, forced up and out in this haughty display of self congratulation. So yeah, I think that when I wrote this description, in the middle of hour 5 of driving through Nebraska, I might have been losing my mind. But if nothing else it gives you a sense of "where my mind was" at that moment. Scary, kinda.
I passed out of Nebraska into Wyoming. I had never anticipated being in Wyoming before this trip. Just never seemed like a place I needed to be. The only remarkable thing that took place in Wyoming was my stop at the "Flying J" truck stop in Cheyenne. I stopped for gas, bathroom, beef jerky, and a bottle of water. As I walked in I saw an Indian man (subcontinent, not native american) wearing a crisp white turban. Of all the headgear I thought I might see in a truck stop in Cheyenne, this was low, real low on the list. I figure this guy must be a gigantic badass. To be an Indian in Cheyenne might be hard, to wear a turban...wow. So whomever he is/was, I salute him, Captain Badass.
After Wyoming came Colorado. The land began to really undulate and start to get all topographic. I drove into Fort Collins, looked at a few shops, and then proceded to bolt. I drove to Estes Park (the base of Rocky Mountain national park). It's an amazing drive. Beautiful, challenging, dangerous. I'm still in awe of the mountains. I still don't really accept them as part of my landscape. It's like that moment of incredulity when you realize that this amazing person you adore is actually, and for real, dating you. Same with the mountains, I still don't believe that they're part of my world. But they are.
So here I am, living in the mountains, working for a great candidate, trying as best I can to be better than I've ever known how to be. It's a challenge. It's daunting and breath taking (not just because of the thinness of the air) enriching and terrifying. I, daily, hope to be worthy of the opportunity. Today I was. I felt comfortable, I was in control of information and moved the ball forward. Here's hoping tomorrow is like today.
The morning of day two (Tuesday) rose murky and ominous. I woke up several times in my hyper-prayerful hotel. Things were wrong. I slept fitfully. I never sleep that way. I am a fine fine sleeper.
As I had been doing for the past 20 hours I again recalculated the time of arrival based on a crude estimate of the degree to which I was comfortable speeding. I determined that if I left at 8:00am CST I would arrive at 3pm MDT. I frankly don't remember if this calculation was accurate. When I'm in the middle of a long run, bike ride or a car trip I occupy my time with calculations about the average speed, and the miles covered, etc. It's odd especially given that I'm quite bad at doing math in my head, so I often forget the numbers I'm adding/subtracting/dividing and have to start again. It's something to pass the time and numb the body to the tedium being experienced.
I left the Settle Inn at around 7:58am. I had, as on the first day, an ample supply of cds. But I get into ruts. There are times that I will want to listen to one album or even one song over and over and over. Realizing that the middle of Nebraska is devoid of nouns (people, places or things) I decided to save my choice cds for later. This meant morning shows and promotions for radio events.
About 20 miles from Lincoln I heard the radio host stroking the ego of some musician.
HOST: "You really innovate, you bring a classical and professional sensibility to all your instruments and really never stop giving us great musical hits."
GUEST: "Thanks."
HOST: "My guest has been Someone from Manheim Steamroller. They never disappoint, and that's why Lincoln loves them so much. This Friday the Strategic Air Command Museum presents Manheim Steamroller, in a benefit concert for the B-1 Bomber restoration fund." I couldn't make this shit up if I tried. First off, I didn't think Manheim Steamroller was still around. Or worthy of ego massage. Second, the Strategic Air Command has a museum, and that museum is hosting "rock" concerts. And these concerts benefit, not say veterans' families, or the promotion of math and science in the classroom but rather the restoration of the B-1 bomber. The world is a magical place and I'm often confused.
After that the next radio station I found was about 30 miles east of Grand Island and featured a cast member from Survivor. Apparently said cast member went to some Survivor related cast reunion wherein he was given a gift bag. This bag was being given to caller number-whatever. This survivor had failed to open the gift bag, so the items available were being discovered on the air. They included a travel bottle of shampoo, sample size body gel, a mini bottle of aspirin, deodorant, and in a small nicely wrapped package which he opened on the air: tampons. That's right he was given tampons by CBS. This was for the hosts involved as funny as anything that had ever happened, and I found myself laughing more than a bit. The survivor agreed to sign the tampons, and a woman called to request just the tampons. She was assured that she and she alone would receive these miracles of cotton and plastic.
Past Grand Island there aren't many things. I don't even think glaciers came that far. The last town I found before I had to turn the page on the map was West Platte. Outside of W. Platte I heard two other great radio moments. The mayor of West Platte was running for reelection. She said, "you know me as an authentic mayor..." I have no idea what this means. I like to think that her opponent has also claimed to be the incumbent mayor, and that she (the real mayor) is desperately trying to correct this misconception in the voters' minds. No more than a minute later I heard an ad for a combination fitness center tanning place, the name of which I forget. Potentially, "the tannorium", or "Crazy Jerry's House of Baked Flesh", "Gym 'n Such". The voice over guy for this place was clearly that of an African American. The best line of his entire schpiel about this place was: "come to our tanning booths, in a matter of minutes you'll be as dark as me." Holy shit. There is something almost campy about the apparent comfort that Nebraskans have with what seem to me overtly inappropriate if not racist comments. Though I must admit neither this nor the comment from the first day seemed to suggest malice.
After that little happened to me in Nebraska. I drove and I drove and I drove. In the far west of Nebraska the plains give way to these eruptions, outcroppings. In the Midwest the landscape is corsetted. It's held tight, forced down, flattened, it's proper, bound up. The Midwest is always struggling with this, rise and elevation are travelled to, but we always return to the staid and sturdy. This part of Nebraska was un-corsetted. It was uneven, bulbous, explosive, sagging and refreshing, raw, and seemingly as "authentic" as geology can allow. But it quickly receeded into the monotomy of the plains, like an affair at a Las Vegas conference. All of this then leads to a description of the Rockies, which I guess would have to be the wonder bra region (to continue well past the point of sense, this metaphor). Structured, forced, surreal, seemingly impossible, and more than just a little disturbing how that much land can exist in the same place, forced up and out in this haughty display of self congratulation. So yeah, I think that when I wrote this description, in the middle of hour 5 of driving through Nebraska, I might have been losing my mind. But if nothing else it gives you a sense of "where my mind was" at that moment. Scary, kinda.
I passed out of Nebraska into Wyoming. I had never anticipated being in Wyoming before this trip. Just never seemed like a place I needed to be. The only remarkable thing that took place in Wyoming was my stop at the "Flying J" truck stop in Cheyenne. I stopped for gas, bathroom, beef jerky, and a bottle of water. As I walked in I saw an Indian man (subcontinent, not native american) wearing a crisp white turban. Of all the headgear I thought I might see in a truck stop in Cheyenne, this was low, real low on the list. I figure this guy must be a gigantic badass. To be an Indian in Cheyenne might be hard, to wear a turban...wow. So whomever he is/was, I salute him, Captain Badass.
After Wyoming came Colorado. The land began to really undulate and start to get all topographic. I drove into Fort Collins, looked at a few shops, and then proceded to bolt. I drove to Estes Park (the base of Rocky Mountain national park). It's an amazing drive. Beautiful, challenging, dangerous. I'm still in awe of the mountains. I still don't really accept them as part of my landscape. It's like that moment of incredulity when you realize that this amazing person you adore is actually, and for real, dating you. Same with the mountains, I still don't believe that they're part of my world. But they are.
So here I am, living in the mountains, working for a great candidate, trying as best I can to be better than I've ever known how to be. It's a challenge. It's daunting and breath taking (not just because of the thinness of the air) enriching and terrifying. I, daily, hope to be worthy of the opportunity. Today I was. I felt comfortable, I was in control of information and moved the ball forward. Here's hoping tomorrow is like today.
Monday, May 17, 2004
Hi, my name is _____________, and I'm a volunteer...
So before I get too far along into the Empire Strikes Back of will become my "getting to colorado" trilogy, I should offer background. Before my trip out west (long long ago...) I talked with Ms. Stuntz and she asked me to find her a notable Nebraskan. Someone who was eager about politics and just a "go-getter." I told her it seemed highly unlikely that I'd find any such person, given that at most I was going to spend 13 hours in a hotel room in Nebraska.
When I left off I was cruising into Nebraska. I passed Co-Blu (Council Bluffs) and sailed on to Omaha. Driving near Omaha always sort of depresses me. Not just because of its status as a city, but because the act of driving by the Woodman building evokes such strong images of "About Schmidt" that I'm left with this longing for deeper meaning. It's like watching the "Graduate," generally not a real pick me up. So, I sped by Omaha, and for a while pondered if I was really "going anywhere." And I realized I was. Lincoln. I'd never been to Lincoln (I'd never been west of Omaha). Uncharted territory to be sure.
Nebraska has a few surpsises up her sleeve. First the speed limit is 75 mph. This seems only fair, because the state itself is a long as forever. And as boring as an Andy Warhol conceptual film.
Also Nebraska radio is fairly good. I find this to be a solid trend. Areas that have something of an urban core (at least 100K) but are dominantly white and semi-rural tend to have great classic rock stations. Witness: Dayton, and now Omaha. Sadly Des Moines failed to fit into this trend.
Among the standard classic rock stations (one that plays Pink Floyd and AC/DC another that plays Dire Straits and Boston) was at least one hip hop station which played exactly the same songs I heard in Grand Rapids in January. It was amazing. "The Top Hits of Today," were apparently slow to move across the great expanse of the midwest. So the pseudo-nostalagia for 4 months ago felt creepy and oddly soothing. There is something about being raised in the era of VH-1 that induces mild pleasure at the idea of musical nostalgia...even if it's only for a period that ended 30 minutes ago.
The other radio station I heard was I think 103.5, which played "the hits of today, with no hard stuff, and none of that RAP!" The disdain for hip hop music and I surmise by extension black culture was strange enough. Even odder was that the next song after the promo was "Hey Ya." So I guess rap doesn't include OutKast. Strange. I began to think about it and came to the conclusion that "hey ya" is the rap equivalent of "The Cosby Show." Black enough to be credible, but palatable to those who want puffy silly sweaters, or homages Sly and the Family Stone.
But all this is but a prelude to "the" story from the trip. I was making very good time as I pulled into Lincoln. My car clock showed it to be 7:30, though the locals would have told me it was 6:30pm. I hadn't made reservations, and wasn't terribly concerned with price, so I pulled into the first available hotel. In this case, the "Settle Inn." I certainly felt like I was settlin' for this place. It was down a very very long access road and just felt strange. For instance it had a castle theme, replete with a knight in front (sadly, it was statuary, and not performance art). I stretched my legs and went inside. I asked if they had a single room. They did. King bed, no smoking. 62 plus tax. Fine.
I noticed on the sheet at the front desk that they had themed rooms. You (and your partner...well at this place spouse) could get a room with a jacuzzi/hot tub that had various themes: jungle, medievel, Astronaut, and the Fabulous 50s. I say spouse, because I was asked immediately if I needed another key for my wife. I said nope. Just me. Got strange look. Went on my merry way.
I dropped my things in the room, and laid down to watch some TV (Good Eats on FoodNetwork). Twenty minutes later I saw a cheap campaign commericial for Jeff Fortenberry. He was running for Congress. This got me thinking, it was a monday.
I then ventured out for a bite to eat (I'd not eaten all day, I don't stop when I am on trips except for gas). Fortunately the McDonalds was far away. It gave me enough time to notice the many yard signs along the median. I thought, I bet tomorrow is election day here. So I pulled out my cell phone dialed 411 and asked for the Nebraska Democratic Party HQ. I was going to help with Nebraska GOTV calls. I got some guy at the party and explained that I was staying in Lincoln for the night, but that I was driving through to Fort Collins to manage a state senate race, and could I help with GOTV phone calls tonight for an hour or two. I was met with shocked silence. I repeated the story. Finally I was instructed to call "Chris." Chris worked for, well actually, manages the Matt Connealy for Congress campaign (pronounced Ka-Nealy). I re-told my story and was asked to venture into the basement of this random office near campus. There I met Ian. Ian it turns out worked with Hurm and Nate in region 5. He was a Dean supporter and looked awfully familiar (because he came to DSM for the "party"). I retold the story again. And then another time when other people came by.
And then it was down to work. I was there to make calls for some guy I'd never met, in a city that I'd spent all of 45 minutes in, after driving for 12.5 hours straight without eating. Yup. I'm not a smart man, but it makes for a good story.
Midway through the calls, the candidate stopped by. I retold my story. He and I chatted for a while (the rest of the staff left so it was just the two of us). I talked about robo calls in Iowa, and we shot the shit. Good stuff. Just checked today, turns out he won.
To recap--I got to do GOTV in Lincoln, met a Dean staffer I didn't know, and in teh process found a nifty nebraskan for Allie. I then retired back to my hotel. I found on the bed a notice I'd not noticed before. It confirmed my sense that this hotel was strange. The notice said: "We hope that God will grant you peace and rest while under our roof. We want you to be happy and comfortable as you would be in your own home. May the business that brought you our way prosper. May every call you make and every message you receive add to your joy." I was not on home turf. Not even a little. Seemed strange then that there would be these freaky marital sex fantasy rooms at a place like this, but why not...not hurting anyone.
Thus concluded day one of Aaron's cross country journey. 860 miles. about 60 GOTV calls. 12.5 hours on the road. 5 states. Not a bad day's work.
When I left off I was cruising into Nebraska. I passed Co-Blu (Council Bluffs) and sailed on to Omaha. Driving near Omaha always sort of depresses me. Not just because of its status as a city, but because the act of driving by the Woodman building evokes such strong images of "About Schmidt" that I'm left with this longing for deeper meaning. It's like watching the "Graduate," generally not a real pick me up. So, I sped by Omaha, and for a while pondered if I was really "going anywhere." And I realized I was. Lincoln. I'd never been to Lincoln (I'd never been west of Omaha). Uncharted territory to be sure.
Nebraska has a few surpsises up her sleeve. First the speed limit is 75 mph. This seems only fair, because the state itself is a long as forever. And as boring as an Andy Warhol conceptual film.
Also Nebraska radio is fairly good. I find this to be a solid trend. Areas that have something of an urban core (at least 100K) but are dominantly white and semi-rural tend to have great classic rock stations. Witness: Dayton, and now Omaha. Sadly Des Moines failed to fit into this trend.
Among the standard classic rock stations (one that plays Pink Floyd and AC/DC another that plays Dire Straits and Boston) was at least one hip hop station which played exactly the same songs I heard in Grand Rapids in January. It was amazing. "The Top Hits of Today," were apparently slow to move across the great expanse of the midwest. So the pseudo-nostalagia for 4 months ago felt creepy and oddly soothing. There is something about being raised in the era of VH-1 that induces mild pleasure at the idea of musical nostalgia...even if it's only for a period that ended 30 minutes ago.
The other radio station I heard was I think 103.5, which played "the hits of today, with no hard stuff, and none of that RAP!" The disdain for hip hop music and I surmise by extension black culture was strange enough. Even odder was that the next song after the promo was "Hey Ya." So I guess rap doesn't include OutKast. Strange. I began to think about it and came to the conclusion that "hey ya" is the rap equivalent of "The Cosby Show." Black enough to be credible, but palatable to those who want puffy silly sweaters, or homages Sly and the Family Stone.
But all this is but a prelude to "the" story from the trip. I was making very good time as I pulled into Lincoln. My car clock showed it to be 7:30, though the locals would have told me it was 6:30pm. I hadn't made reservations, and wasn't terribly concerned with price, so I pulled into the first available hotel. In this case, the "Settle Inn." I certainly felt like I was settlin' for this place. It was down a very very long access road and just felt strange. For instance it had a castle theme, replete with a knight in front (sadly, it was statuary, and not performance art). I stretched my legs and went inside. I asked if they had a single room. They did. King bed, no smoking. 62 plus tax. Fine.
I noticed on the sheet at the front desk that they had themed rooms. You (and your partner...well at this place spouse) could get a room with a jacuzzi/hot tub that had various themes: jungle, medievel, Astronaut, and the Fabulous 50s. I say spouse, because I was asked immediately if I needed another key for my wife. I said nope. Just me. Got strange look. Went on my merry way.
I dropped my things in the room, and laid down to watch some TV (Good Eats on FoodNetwork). Twenty minutes later I saw a cheap campaign commericial for Jeff Fortenberry. He was running for Congress. This got me thinking, it was a monday.
I then ventured out for a bite to eat (I'd not eaten all day, I don't stop when I am on trips except for gas). Fortunately the McDonalds was far away. It gave me enough time to notice the many yard signs along the median. I thought, I bet tomorrow is election day here. So I pulled out my cell phone dialed 411 and asked for the Nebraska Democratic Party HQ. I was going to help with Nebraska GOTV calls. I got some guy at the party and explained that I was staying in Lincoln for the night, but that I was driving through to Fort Collins to manage a state senate race, and could I help with GOTV phone calls tonight for an hour or two. I was met with shocked silence. I repeated the story. Finally I was instructed to call "Chris." Chris worked for, well actually, manages the Matt Connealy for Congress campaign (pronounced Ka-Nealy). I re-told my story and was asked to venture into the basement of this random office near campus. There I met Ian. Ian it turns out worked with Hurm and Nate in region 5. He was a Dean supporter and looked awfully familiar (because he came to DSM for the "party"). I retold the story again. And then another time when other people came by.
And then it was down to work. I was there to make calls for some guy I'd never met, in a city that I'd spent all of 45 minutes in, after driving for 12.5 hours straight without eating. Yup. I'm not a smart man, but it makes for a good story.
Midway through the calls, the candidate stopped by. I retold my story. He and I chatted for a while (the rest of the staff left so it was just the two of us). I talked about robo calls in Iowa, and we shot the shit. Good stuff. Just checked today, turns out he won.
To recap--I got to do GOTV in Lincoln, met a Dean staffer I didn't know, and in teh process found a nifty nebraskan for Allie. I then retired back to my hotel. I found on the bed a notice I'd not noticed before. It confirmed my sense that this hotel was strange. The notice said: "We hope that God will grant you peace and rest while under our roof. We want you to be happy and comfortable as you would be in your own home. May the business that brought you our way prosper. May every call you make and every message you receive add to your joy." I was not on home turf. Not even a little. Seemed strange then that there would be these freaky marital sex fantasy rooms at a place like this, but why not...not hurting anyone.
Thus concluded day one of Aaron's cross country journey. 860 miles. about 60 GOTV calls. 12.5 hours on the road. 5 states. Not a bad day's work.
A New Mission for Extra Vaganza
I am going to be converting Extra Vaganza into a photo blog and a place for stray ruminations. Currently posted are photos of Colorado. Further updates as events warrant.
And Miles to Go Before I Sleep
A week ago today I left the bucolic splendor of an overcast Westerville morn' and began to drive west. And oh how far west I would drive. I left at 7 in the ante meridian. My car was packed to within inches of bursting. Just think of me as Tom Joad. Except I wasn't moving to avoid the dust bowl..but otherwise it's the same.
The drive was supposed to take between 21 and 22 hours. I made it in less than 20. D=R x T (Distance = Rate x Time). Given that the distance was held constant (approximately 1200 miles) and the time shrunk to 20 hours...well I was driving quite fast.
I began by cruising through Ohio. I have several timer taken photos of myself to prove that I was piloting my hobbled Saturn (the drivers mirror is still broken...stupid Des Moines residents). Very little of note in Ohio.
Next came Indiana. Place of my birth. State of my eternal loathing (though rivaled in many ways by the 5th state..but we'll get to that later). I was tearing down the highway at a phenomenal rate. Drove past Indianapolis and was reminded of my first visit to that city. In the summer of my Freshman year of college Mark and I drove to Indianapolis for a Pearl Jam concert. Previously I'd become a member of BMG (the music scam). I tried and tried to remove my name from their list. The Chinese finger puzzle of American muscial scammery. The more I wanted release, the tighter their grip. The result was ugly...I ended up selecting a Matchbox 20 album. It was and still is a grim moment, and one I'll only share because this blog is read by friends. BMG's corporate HQ resides in a run-down strip mall section of Indiana-no-place (think a low rent version of Clive, Midway mall, or Northland mall). Our hotel was about 5 miles away. So we paid them a visit. We walked into the HQ and I instantly noticed over the forest of cubicles a life size cardboard cut out of Kenny G. Fitting, right. Water water everywhere but not a drop to drink. They picked Kenny G, all the musicians in creation and he's literally their poster boy....what the hell is wrong with them. I sauntered to the desk and asked to talk with someone in membership.
"What do you want," came the reply. "I want out," I responded. "I want you to take me off the list, and I want to witness you doing it." The woman at teh counter was silenced with shock. She called back into the catacombs of cubicles and a mousey woman came to the front with a giant binder stuffed with computer print outs of members. I leafed through the binder (about 18 inches thick) until I came to my name. Then with a giant marker I crossed off my name with a flourish (John Hancock style) I was free. But that wasn't enough, I wanted others to be free as well. So I asked to remove Brian Fusco. (he'd told me that he too was trapped in cheap music hell). I cut the ties that bound him to the evil giant. And then I left. And felt myself quite the badass.
The rest of Indiana was unremarkable. Though it was fun to listen to "I Believe in Miracles" (cover of the Ramones)blaring at full volume as my car traced the arrow straight roads of Western Indiana.
Then came Illinois. Nothing noteworthy there. Tiring. Monotonous. Like Iowa but without the maddening number of Iowans.
Upon approach of the Iowa border it began to pour. Heretofore it had been overcast. But like an angry 'ex' Iowa had saved its scorn and felt that I deserved another dose, reminding me of my previous unhappiness. It just dumped rain on me and my trusty Saturn. Sheets and buckets.
I called Emily just as I passed the border (near Davenport) and she suggested that I drive the entire state with my eyes closed.
Truth be told most of Iowa was beautiful. Highlights--most things west of Des Moines. There was a great surreal moment of me blasting Carly Simon's "You're So Vain" as I rose over the crest of the hill just outside Adair (former stomping grounds of Ben Clark). There was listening to "In Da Club" just outside of Atlantic.
As I approached the border separating region 5 from the land of husked corn, I thought of the last time I was in Nebraska: it was my third trip with GHD (Dean) I was driving McFun (large preposterous RV for those non-Deaniacs out there). I had been tasked with preparing the directions. I had in turn entrusted this task to Dan Craig and Emmet. Emmet had been in the US for about 2 weeks at this point. I gave the directions a cursory glance before heading out West. While driving due north into the Loess hills on hwy 28, I think, I came to a sudden and horrifying realization: Emmet's next direction was incomplete. He indicated that fairly soon, either this turn or the next, I was to turn left. Not really thinking, I figured that it was the first chance. So I approached some random road and turned left. In close pursuit in car two was John Pettit (our staff photog).
I turned left and headed into Nebraska. There are no Iowa caucus attendees in Nebraska---not a single one. I had managed to get lost so badly that we were in another state entirely. Somewhere there exists a photo of me driving McFun into the wrong state. As I crossed over the bridge into Nebraska Governor Dean calmly got out a map and asked if I needed him to navigate.
This time... I meant to go into Nebraska. More on the second half later...
The drive was supposed to take between 21 and 22 hours. I made it in less than 20. D=R x T (Distance = Rate x Time). Given that the distance was held constant (approximately 1200 miles) and the time shrunk to 20 hours...well I was driving quite fast.
I began by cruising through Ohio. I have several timer taken photos of myself to prove that I was piloting my hobbled Saturn (the drivers mirror is still broken...stupid Des Moines residents). Very little of note in Ohio.
Next came Indiana. Place of my birth. State of my eternal loathing (though rivaled in many ways by the 5th state..but we'll get to that later). I was tearing down the highway at a phenomenal rate. Drove past Indianapolis and was reminded of my first visit to that city. In the summer of my Freshman year of college Mark and I drove to Indianapolis for a Pearl Jam concert. Previously I'd become a member of BMG (the music scam). I tried and tried to remove my name from their list. The Chinese finger puzzle of American muscial scammery. The more I wanted release, the tighter their grip. The result was ugly...I ended up selecting a Matchbox 20 album. It was and still is a grim moment, and one I'll only share because this blog is read by friends. BMG's corporate HQ resides in a run-down strip mall section of Indiana-no-place (think a low rent version of Clive, Midway mall, or Northland mall). Our hotel was about 5 miles away. So we paid them a visit. We walked into the HQ and I instantly noticed over the forest of cubicles a life size cardboard cut out of Kenny G. Fitting, right. Water water everywhere but not a drop to drink. They picked Kenny G, all the musicians in creation and he's literally their poster boy....what the hell is wrong with them. I sauntered to the desk and asked to talk with someone in membership.
"What do you want," came the reply. "I want out," I responded. "I want you to take me off the list, and I want to witness you doing it." The woman at teh counter was silenced with shock. She called back into the catacombs of cubicles and a mousey woman came to the front with a giant binder stuffed with computer print outs of members. I leafed through the binder (about 18 inches thick) until I came to my name. Then with a giant marker I crossed off my name with a flourish (John Hancock style) I was free. But that wasn't enough, I wanted others to be free as well. So I asked to remove Brian Fusco. (he'd told me that he too was trapped in cheap music hell). I cut the ties that bound him to the evil giant. And then I left. And felt myself quite the badass.
The rest of Indiana was unremarkable. Though it was fun to listen to "I Believe in Miracles" (cover of the Ramones)blaring at full volume as my car traced the arrow straight roads of Western Indiana.
Then came Illinois. Nothing noteworthy there. Tiring. Monotonous. Like Iowa but without the maddening number of Iowans.
Upon approach of the Iowa border it began to pour. Heretofore it had been overcast. But like an angry 'ex' Iowa had saved its scorn and felt that I deserved another dose, reminding me of my previous unhappiness. It just dumped rain on me and my trusty Saturn. Sheets and buckets.
I called Emily just as I passed the border (near Davenport) and she suggested that I drive the entire state with my eyes closed.
Truth be told most of Iowa was beautiful. Highlights--most things west of Des Moines. There was a great surreal moment of me blasting Carly Simon's "You're So Vain" as I rose over the crest of the hill just outside Adair (former stomping grounds of Ben Clark). There was listening to "In Da Club" just outside of Atlantic.
As I approached the border separating region 5 from the land of husked corn, I thought of the last time I was in Nebraska: it was my third trip with GHD (Dean) I was driving McFun (large preposterous RV for those non-Deaniacs out there). I had been tasked with preparing the directions. I had in turn entrusted this task to Dan Craig and Emmet. Emmet had been in the US for about 2 weeks at this point. I gave the directions a cursory glance before heading out West. While driving due north into the Loess hills on hwy 28, I think, I came to a sudden and horrifying realization: Emmet's next direction was incomplete. He indicated that fairly soon, either this turn or the next, I was to turn left. Not really thinking, I figured that it was the first chance. So I approached some random road and turned left. In close pursuit in car two was John Pettit (our staff photog).
I turned left and headed into Nebraska. There are no Iowa caucus attendees in Nebraska---not a single one. I had managed to get lost so badly that we were in another state entirely. Somewhere there exists a photo of me driving McFun into the wrong state. As I crossed over the bridge into Nebraska Governor Dean calmly got out a map and asked if I needed him to navigate.
This time... I meant to go into Nebraska. More on the second half later...
Sunday, May 16, 2004
ESPN: The Flavor
Since I think that my generally ill feeling in the mountains may have as much to do with dehydration as with the stress and the thin air, I've taken to drinking more gatorade. I realize that this is not as good as water. But for some reason I was really craving gatorade yesterday, so I stopped into the 7-11 and bought some. Trying to figure out what flavor to get (because some are just attrocious) I settled on a RED one that was named: ESPN The Flavor.
This is a level of cross promotion that boggles the mind. I am drinking a beverage that is supposedly flavored like a television network. I wonder if lifetime will have a fragrance. Wouldn't you think that ESPN would taste like sweat? Berries apparently are the flavor of ESPN.
Strange.
This is a level of cross promotion that boggles the mind. I am drinking a beverage that is supposedly flavored like a television network. I wonder if lifetime will have a fragrance. Wouldn't you think that ESPN would taste like sweat? Berries apparently are the flavor of ESPN.
Strange.
See More...
Mr. Hersh reports that the prison abuse in Iraq was tied directly to decisions made by Secretary of Defense Rumsfeld. The New Yorker article, to be published May 24th is available online today.
"The roots of the Abu Ghraib prison scandal lie not in the criminal inclinations of a few Army reservists but in a decision, approved last year by Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld, to expand a highly secret operation, which had been focussed on the hunt for Al Qaeda, to the interrogation of prisoners in Iraq. Rumsfeld’s decision embittered the American intelligence community, damaged the effectiveness of élite combat units, and hurt America’s prospects in the war on terror."
So how long till the assasination of Seymour Hersh begins...and I'm not talking about character assasination.
Yesterday Collin Powell floated a trial balloon that would allow the US to leave Iraq (granted we'd leave it in shambles). Basically saying that we'd leave if the new gov't asked us. And given that we're creating the new government...I'm betting we'll find one that will ask us to leave so we can save face. It's a brilliant move. Bastards.
"The roots of the Abu Ghraib prison scandal lie not in the criminal inclinations of a few Army reservists but in a decision, approved last year by Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld, to expand a highly secret operation, which had been focussed on the hunt for Al Qaeda, to the interrogation of prisoners in Iraq. Rumsfeld’s decision embittered the American intelligence community, damaged the effectiveness of élite combat units, and hurt America’s prospects in the war on terror."
So how long till the assasination of Seymour Hersh begins...and I'm not talking about character assasination.
Yesterday Collin Powell floated a trial balloon that would allow the US to leave Iraq (granted we'd leave it in shambles). Basically saying that we'd leave if the new gov't asked us. And given that we're creating the new government...I'm betting we'll find one that will ask us to leave so we can save face. It's a brilliant move. Bastards.
Saturday, May 15, 2004
King of Bouncy Castle
All hail Aaron, King of Bouncy Castle.
Today I helped out the Bacon for Senate campaign by volunteering for "Kids Day America" in Fort Collins. Organized by a very fetching (always seems a strange word) young woman, KDAFC was a chance for children and their parents to learn about fire safety, get their eyes checked, learn about the Girl Scouts and generally have a great time in City Park. This was all well and good until I was nearly roped into being (well playing) Smokey the Bear. They had a costume and everything. The aforementioned attractive woman suggested I should be the bear. Apparently only I could prevent forest fires...
Attractive or not, I refused. I abhor the idea of clowning around, and the notion of doing so in a bear suit previously used by burly woodsmen come parkranger types or worse still acne ridden teens more succeptible to this woman's wiles...well it was too much to bare (get it?). I said, what else is there. I was told: Bouncy Castle. I lit up. I claimed my volunteer task--managing the bouncy castle.
For those who don't know. Bouncy Castles are inflated play pens for children and adults (I later learned--online, not in person...alas). They are roughly 20x20 and underneath is a very bouncy flooring. This may be where the name Bouncy Castle comes from, I'm still waiting to check OED on that one.
The general idea is to put kids in there, close the mesh door (a feature on American models, unlike the above British model) and watch people dance and jump and flip and cavort. It's pretty fanastic. I was jealous and freely admitted it to many of the kids.
As Lord and leige of Bouncy Castle, I quickly established Aaron's rules of the Bouncy Castle. They were simple: everyone may go in. Everyone may go in more than once, provided they waited in line and that they allowed kids who hadn't had a chance to go first. Into Aaron's castle shall no more than 4 children venture, and if there are big kids doing flips then the number of visitors to his majesty's castle shirks to three.
By the end I knew the names and quirks of about 35 children. I knew that Dakota would refuse help (being lifted into the castle) but would need it in the end. Allison who could have easily bounded into the play pen, but would rather be picked up. Kyle's favorite animal at the zoo is a monkey, and he is not planning on taking his brother (Kit) the next time they go. John offered that his favorite animals are wolves. Lauren wore a superman shirt. Selena felt the need to bounce off of her face. Alejandro was very polite and round faced--and a fine bouncer. Wyatt wore overalls and looked like an osh kosh b'gosh model. It was great. I was able to pick them up and escort them into and out of the castle. I was able to joke, and tease, tickle and teach kids for over 3 hours. No one got hurt, and I think that lots of kids had more fun than if Smokey and I had traded jobs. It was pretty nice. I have to say I've been happier in the past few months, but only rarely and never for that long.
That was the great part of the day. The horrible, fucked up, maddening part was that I broke my camera. Many of you know that my camera (an Olympus Camedia 720) is my favorite personal possesion. It's the one thing (except my car) that I cannot afford to replace and cannot really stand the idea of being without. So I'm pissed. Really really furious. But it is my fault, so what can I do. I am hoping that since it's mainly the lens and not the electronics, I can just pay for a new lens or they can repair the mechanism that moves the lens into and out of the body. So that was clearly a damper on the great fun of the afternoon.
Today I helped out the Bacon for Senate campaign by volunteering for "Kids Day America" in Fort Collins. Organized by a very fetching (always seems a strange word) young woman, KDAFC was a chance for children and their parents to learn about fire safety, get their eyes checked, learn about the Girl Scouts and generally have a great time in City Park. This was all well and good until I was nearly roped into being (well playing) Smokey the Bear. They had a costume and everything. The aforementioned attractive woman suggested I should be the bear. Apparently only I could prevent forest fires...
Attractive or not, I refused. I abhor the idea of clowning around, and the notion of doing so in a bear suit previously used by burly woodsmen come parkranger types or worse still acne ridden teens more succeptible to this woman's wiles...well it was too much to bare (get it?). I said, what else is there. I was told: Bouncy Castle. I lit up. I claimed my volunteer task--managing the bouncy castle.
For those who don't know. Bouncy Castles are inflated play pens for children and adults (I later learned--online, not in person...alas). They are roughly 20x20 and underneath is a very bouncy flooring. This may be where the name Bouncy Castle comes from, I'm still waiting to check OED on that one.
The general idea is to put kids in there, close the mesh door (a feature on American models, unlike the above British model) and watch people dance and jump and flip and cavort. It's pretty fanastic. I was jealous and freely admitted it to many of the kids.
As Lord and leige of Bouncy Castle, I quickly established Aaron's rules of the Bouncy Castle. They were simple: everyone may go in. Everyone may go in more than once, provided they waited in line and that they allowed kids who hadn't had a chance to go first. Into Aaron's castle shall no more than 4 children venture, and if there are big kids doing flips then the number of visitors to his majesty's castle shirks to three.
By the end I knew the names and quirks of about 35 children. I knew that Dakota would refuse help (being lifted into the castle) but would need it in the end. Allison who could have easily bounded into the play pen, but would rather be picked up. Kyle's favorite animal at the zoo is a monkey, and he is not planning on taking his brother (Kit) the next time they go. John offered that his favorite animals are wolves. Lauren wore a superman shirt. Selena felt the need to bounce off of her face. Alejandro was very polite and round faced--and a fine bouncer. Wyatt wore overalls and looked like an osh kosh b'gosh model. It was great. I was able to pick them up and escort them into and out of the castle. I was able to joke, and tease, tickle and teach kids for over 3 hours. No one got hurt, and I think that lots of kids had more fun than if Smokey and I had traded jobs. It was pretty nice. I have to say I've been happier in the past few months, but only rarely and never for that long.
That was the great part of the day. The horrible, fucked up, maddening part was that I broke my camera. Many of you know that my camera (an Olympus Camedia 720) is my favorite personal possesion. It's the one thing (except my car) that I cannot afford to replace and cannot really stand the idea of being without. So I'm pissed. Really really furious. But it is my fault, so what can I do. I am hoping that since it's mainly the lens and not the electronics, I can just pay for a new lens or they can repair the mechanism that moves the lens into and out of the body. So that was clearly a damper on the great fun of the afternoon.
Friday, May 14, 2004
"Good job citizens!"
I am reading a book written by Ray Martinez, the current mayor of Fort Collins (and opponent to my guy--Bob Bacon). Martinez is a former law enforcement officer and wrote this book (posted on his website) called: "A matter of survival: your fight against burglars."
Some great sentences and insights from this book: "Keep in mind that averages change from year to year." If they didn't then you'd have to believe that there was some pre-ordained numerical relationship that governed all human interactions and prevented by compensation in the other direction any deviation from teh existing norm. I'm guessing Ray's not making that argument.
"Lock your door, and take your keys with you." Pretty solid advice.
"It is smart to have a telephone installed in your bedroom if the incident occurs while you are asleep." I don't know what this means.
"A mouse will sneak around the house in the dark looking for something free, but when the lights are on and the mouse realizes he is seen, he will run away. If you give chase to the mouse, he will run until he is cornered. Then the mouse will turn on you and attack." Clearly this analogy is referring to the mouse that roared, and then stole your antique clock.
In a case study, the book talks about a ring of crooks who are foiled: "Finally it was the eyes and ears of the public that alerted the police and led to their arrests. Good job citizens!" Yay us!
"Safes are a difficult topic to discuss mainly because everybody has an opinion about them." I can honestly say, I've never had an opinion on safes. Apparently there are hundreds of talking heads roaming the TV sets of Ft. Collins pontificating about the value of TL30 vs "E" rated safes.
Very little exciting stuff happened today, which is just fine. I won't be able to write about lots of my work here. Which means posts will likely be fewer and farther (further?) between. Makes me sad, because I love writing them. But gotta get things sorted out here. I will of course post as I am able.
Some great sentences and insights from this book: "Keep in mind that averages change from year to year." If they didn't then you'd have to believe that there was some pre-ordained numerical relationship that governed all human interactions and prevented by compensation in the other direction any deviation from teh existing norm. I'm guessing Ray's not making that argument.
"Lock your door, and take your keys with you." Pretty solid advice.
"It is smart to have a telephone installed in your bedroom if the incident occurs while you are asleep." I don't know what this means.
"A mouse will sneak around the house in the dark looking for something free, but when the lights are on and the mouse realizes he is seen, he will run away. If you give chase to the mouse, he will run until he is cornered. Then the mouse will turn on you and attack." Clearly this analogy is referring to the mouse that roared, and then stole your antique clock.
In a case study, the book talks about a ring of crooks who are foiled: "Finally it was the eyes and ears of the public that alerted the police and led to their arrests. Good job citizens!" Yay us!
"Safes are a difficult topic to discuss mainly because everybody has an opinion about them." I can honestly say, I've never had an opinion on safes. Apparently there are hundreds of talking heads roaming the TV sets of Ft. Collins pontificating about the value of TL30 vs "E" rated safes.
Very little exciting stuff happened today, which is just fine. I won't be able to write about lots of my work here. Which means posts will likely be fewer and farther (further?) between. Makes me sad, because I love writing them. But gotta get things sorted out here. I will of course post as I am able.
Mercenaries in arms
last post for the night..I promise.
I've been lucky, and this I freely admit, to work for Paul Wellstone and Howard Dean. I've seen politics that elevated discourse, raised hopes, empowered people and inspired future leaders. Apparently that's not good enough. I wonder about the folks I meet who insists that politics is a game, and it's about winning. I met one of these folks earlier this week. I try to argue that politics isn't a game, that it was about 'the improvement of people's lives' that it could be more than just a simple matter of determining outcomes, but that it could change the way that people saw themselves and their government. I guess I have to believe that. It is deadening for me to think that the majority or maybe just plurality of people who do what I do, and do it well think that it's a game. That's its an excuse to get paid for the rush of adrenaline. That they relish being hired guns. That winnning is the only thing, and the process by which that goal is achieved is not justified but rather it's irrelevant. That the only limitation should be legal. And that 'i play in the gray areas, oh yeah, I play in the gray areas, but I try and stay this side of the law.' Clearly a call to higher service.
Oh, and I was told when I said I wouldn't send spies into an opponents office, or tear down signs or imply they were gay or senile or whatever to gain advantage, "don't me so moral and stuff, you have to be more competitive. You'll never win like that" I've never been told that I need to be more competitive, I've never earned that sneer. But until more races are won by the Tim's and Robert's of the world than by the Whouley's...I'll just have to listen to guys like this.
It's hard to think that some of my brothers in arms are just mercenaries.
I've been lucky, and this I freely admit, to work for Paul Wellstone and Howard Dean. I've seen politics that elevated discourse, raised hopes, empowered people and inspired future leaders. Apparently that's not good enough. I wonder about the folks I meet who insists that politics is a game, and it's about winning. I met one of these folks earlier this week. I try to argue that politics isn't a game, that it was about 'the improvement of people's lives' that it could be more than just a simple matter of determining outcomes, but that it could change the way that people saw themselves and their government. I guess I have to believe that. It is deadening for me to think that the majority or maybe just plurality of people who do what I do, and do it well think that it's a game. That's its an excuse to get paid for the rush of adrenaline. That they relish being hired guns. That winnning is the only thing, and the process by which that goal is achieved is not justified but rather it's irrelevant. That the only limitation should be legal. And that 'i play in the gray areas, oh yeah, I play in the gray areas, but I try and stay this side of the law.' Clearly a call to higher service.
Oh, and I was told when I said I wouldn't send spies into an opponents office, or tear down signs or imply they were gay or senile or whatever to gain advantage, "don't me so moral and stuff, you have to be more competitive. You'll never win like that" I've never been told that I need to be more competitive, I've never earned that sneer. But until more races are won by the Tim's and Robert's of the world than by the Whouley's...I'll just have to listen to guys like this.
It's hard to think that some of my brothers in arms are just mercenaries.
Thursday, May 13, 2004
The Reverend Aaron Leary
One really funny thing from today. I get a call from my mom, saying, there is a guy in Connecticut, Ken Sistler who has a package you tried to mail to Emily Thorson. I said, "oh, so that's why emily never got it." She says "yes, but it's even stranger than that. he called our house and asked for 'the reverend aaron leary.'" To explain-I mailed CDs to Emily. because frankly she needed cds mailed to her. Sparse collection of music, and a new cd player...she needed more music. When I was standing in line mailing the cds I thought it'd be funny to mail them to Emily Thorson, esq. and then having done that oh so funny thing, I return addressed them to "The Reverend Aaron Leavy."
So my mom has this strange man looking for her son, the rev. She responds quite well with, "Aaron LEAVY (my handwriting is poor) is our son. But he's not here, he's in Colorado on a campaign." So now this Ken guy thinks I'm a campaign chaplain. ministering to the woe-begotten field workers, bringing Jesus to the phone banks and bean feeds of the world. Rosaries and clipboards the life of the campaign chaplain.
Come to think of it, I think Ken might be a lawyer...so I may have brought this on myself...they may really think Em is a lawyer in his firm. If so, then I really hope they think I'm a man of the cloth (rayon).
So my mom has this strange man looking for her son, the rev. She responds quite well with, "Aaron LEAVY (my handwriting is poor) is our son. But he's not here, he's in Colorado on a campaign." So now this Ken guy thinks I'm a campaign chaplain. ministering to the woe-begotten field workers, bringing Jesus to the phone banks and bean feeds of the world. Rosaries and clipboards the life of the campaign chaplain.
Come to think of it, I think Ken might be a lawyer...so I may have brought this on myself...they may really think Em is a lawyer in his firm. If so, then I really hope they think I'm a man of the cloth (rayon).
Somedays are harder than others
Some days are just tougher than others. I am tired. I am down. I know that both of these are temporary and largely interelated, but at present they each seem to feed the other in a multiplicative relationship.
This job is proving a real challenge. I have to remind myself that I knew it would be one, and that I am capable of meeting that challenge.
But, I don't want to complain. I am in a beautiful city. I have a good and generous man for whom I work. I'm just tired, and today beat me down.
I've talked to lots of friends (presumably the plurality of this blogs readership...except for the lovely Jen--whom I should call..since she's among the only people I know on a later time zone than me) in the past few days, and I've been really grateful for those calls. Thanks.
Oh, and to continue the Aaron sees nature them that the last post included--today while having dinner I saw a red fox (not the comedian, the mammal).
Eventually I'll have my own place. And then I'll be more cheerful. A place to decorate, and a place where I can cook some. Sorry for the boring posts. I'll try and be more upbeat.
This job is proving a real challenge. I have to remind myself that I knew it would be one, and that I am capable of meeting that challenge.
But, I don't want to complain. I am in a beautiful city. I have a good and generous man for whom I work. I'm just tired, and today beat me down.
I've talked to lots of friends (presumably the plurality of this blogs readership...except for the lovely Jen--whom I should call..since she's among the only people I know on a later time zone than me) in the past few days, and I've been really grateful for those calls. Thanks.
Oh, and to continue the Aaron sees nature them that the last post included--today while having dinner I saw a red fox (not the comedian, the mammal).
Eventually I'll have my own place. And then I'll be more cheerful. A place to decorate, and a place where I can cook some. Sorry for the boring posts. I'll try and be more upbeat.
So I saw an otter
For right now I'll have to ignore writing about the drive out here. It was stupendous, and marvelous and there are good stories to tell. But it will take a long time, and I want to upload photos.
But yesterday, my first official day in the fine fine city of Fort Collins (hereinafter FFCOFTC...or maybe not) I started the day by waking up in my employers basement. No nothing like out of misery or some other creepy movie. I am staying there until they find me my own place. Incidently, they did find me an office, sort of. I guess there was confusion as to what they were trying to find for me. I will, I'm sure end up sleeping in the office. But hopefully not the third night. After waking up I decided to abuse my body by running. Just to note, the whole thing about the air being thinner here...not a fucking joke. Serious...I was winded putting on my shoes. So I went out and ran around a bit. The Bacon's have a running path that abuts their backyard. You run into the city and along a creek. Very nice. So I ran toward FFCOFTC. To my right are mountains. Yeah, that's not half bad. Ran for about 10 minutes then I stopped. I'm weak, a slight bit paunchy and out of shape--and most importantly as JKD can attest I am a horrible setter of pace. On the way back I stopped at this little wooden bridge, and saw an OTTER. No joke. A little playful water loving mammal. Not a bad place to live, I guess.
After that I went into town, found a good bakery with a kinda attractive woman womanning the counter. I asked and she suggested a prune almond danish. Good choice. Found a good cd store. Justin, the propietor also likes Will Oldham, and though that the Yeah Yeah Yeahs were british. corrections were made, and the promise of return trip was offered. Good guy. Tough business.
Oh, and I almost forgot. I got to see Buffy. Yup. She's out here managing a race for a guy in Western Colorado. Her district goes to the wyoming and utah border. Holy shit. They sent the radical SFer to ranch land. We were both in Denver for training, and schmoozing at this fundraiser. Good stuff.
oh, and it snowed yesterday evening. Snowed. And again this morning.
All in all life is good. I awoke at 5:00 am. I am losing sleep thinking about this race on the start of day 2. Maybe not a good sign, but it felt familiar and that was comforting.
But yesterday, my first official day in the fine fine city of Fort Collins (hereinafter FFCOFTC...or maybe not) I started the day by waking up in my employers basement. No nothing like out of misery or some other creepy movie. I am staying there until they find me my own place. Incidently, they did find me an office, sort of. I guess there was confusion as to what they were trying to find for me. I will, I'm sure end up sleeping in the office. But hopefully not the third night. After waking up I decided to abuse my body by running. Just to note, the whole thing about the air being thinner here...not a fucking joke. Serious...I was winded putting on my shoes. So I went out and ran around a bit. The Bacon's have a running path that abuts their backyard. You run into the city and along a creek. Very nice. So I ran toward FFCOFTC. To my right are mountains. Yeah, that's not half bad. Ran for about 10 minutes then I stopped. I'm weak, a slight bit paunchy and out of shape--and most importantly as JKD can attest I am a horrible setter of pace. On the way back I stopped at this little wooden bridge, and saw an OTTER. No joke. A little playful water loving mammal. Not a bad place to live, I guess.
After that I went into town, found a good bakery with a kinda attractive woman womanning the counter. I asked and she suggested a prune almond danish. Good choice. Found a good cd store. Justin, the propietor also likes Will Oldham, and though that the Yeah Yeah Yeahs were british. corrections were made, and the promise of return trip was offered. Good guy. Tough business.
Oh, and I almost forgot. I got to see Buffy. Yup. She's out here managing a race for a guy in Western Colorado. Her district goes to the wyoming and utah border. Holy shit. They sent the radical SFer to ranch land. We were both in Denver for training, and schmoozing at this fundraiser. Good stuff.
oh, and it snowed yesterday evening. Snowed. And again this morning.
All in all life is good. I awoke at 5:00 am. I am losing sleep thinking about this race on the start of day 2. Maybe not a good sign, but it felt familiar and that was comforting.
Sunday, May 09, 2004
Go West, young man, and grow up with the country.
So tomorrow I head West. Not all the way, just 20+ hours left from Ohio. Fort Collins, I'm told, by Gray isn't really the West, that's nomenclature describing Montana and Wyonming. It sure seems like the West from here.
Go West, young man, and grow up with the country. I don't feel terribly young, or all that much like a man. Though, I guess I'm as old as I've ever been. But the advice seems fine, all the same. A bit over noble for what is essentially just another job, but the senitment is maybe only wrong by a half-measure.
It'll be interesting to see how many more times I can do this. Pack everything, move to a new place, and work as hard as my health will allow. JKD tells me "you're a campaigner, it's who you are, it's what you do." And he's not wrong. I never want to disappoint. So we'll see. I'm ready for at least this one. And we'll take the next as it comes.
I'll not be posting to this as I drive (because I'm not god-like, or that obsessive). Not sure how soon after I arrive I'll have access to the internet.
I'm off. I've already decided that if I get any staff, I'll finish every call with "Go forth and do good." Just seems right.
Go West, young man, and grow up with the country. I don't feel terribly young, or all that much like a man. Though, I guess I'm as old as I've ever been. But the advice seems fine, all the same. A bit over noble for what is essentially just another job, but the senitment is maybe only wrong by a half-measure.
It'll be interesting to see how many more times I can do this. Pack everything, move to a new place, and work as hard as my health will allow. JKD tells me "you're a campaigner, it's who you are, it's what you do." And he's not wrong. I never want to disappoint. So we'll see. I'm ready for at least this one. And we'll take the next as it comes.
I'll not be posting to this as I drive (because I'm not god-like, or that obsessive). Not sure how soon after I arrive I'll have access to the internet.
I'm off. I've already decided that if I get any staff, I'll finish every call with "Go forth and do good." Just seems right.
Saturday, May 08, 2004
I'm becoming like my father, and I'm guessing like your father too
I just finished mowing the lawn. And like seemingly all males in white suburbs (maybe all suburbs...maybe all males), I did so shirtless. What is it about mowing the lawn that suggests to the average suburbanite, who may have a bit of sag and or paunch to offer passersby, that now, now is the moment to un-shirt. Now before the dog walkers, the whiffle ball players, and the garage sale attendees, now before the bike riders, and the lemonade selling children...provide these people what is their right, let them see a semi-ugly white guy with bits of grass glued to his chest and back. Then upon completion shall he rest, and drink shitty beer, quickly putting back on the shirt he so brazenly tossed aside.
A final question, if it were more socially appropriate (ie, not illegal) would women who mow lawns do this? Is the appeal more to do with yardwork, or with some socially acceptable time when white guys in the 'burbs can get a little tanner?
A final question, if it were more socially appropriate (ie, not illegal) would women who mow lawns do this? Is the appeal more to do with yardwork, or with some socially acceptable time when white guys in the 'burbs can get a little tanner?
I'm going to be so high...
I have, thus far, lived life in topographically challenged areas. I grew up in Columbus Ohio (780 ft above sea level), then I moved to Oberlin (730 ft). Upon graduation I travelled West to Minneapolis (840 ft). Howard Dean, and only Dean was able to convince me to move to Iowa. Des Moines beckoned with its building and elevation of 803 ft. In service of GHD, I next moved to Grand Rapids (on the forgotten western portion of the state) there I was greeted with blinding snow and an anemic 657 feet of elevation. Then I was off to the Alamo of the campaign: Madison wisconsin. Mad-town, while fantastic is still only 863 feet north of sea level.
780+730+840+803+657+863= 4,673.
Fort Collins elevation according to Rand McNally's "The Road Atlas 2003" tops out at 5,003 feet on the tall side of the ocean.
Sweet.
780+730+840+803+657+863= 4,673.
Fort Collins elevation according to Rand McNally's "The Road Atlas 2003" tops out at 5,003 feet on the tall side of the ocean.
Sweet.
Friday, May 07, 2004
Puckered...and Be Cool Like a Penguin--Vote Sanguin
I'm puckering about this job. I'm nervous and it's not even started. It's annoying. But, I may have information soon on the apartment in which I'll be staying. So that's great. I'm packing (a task which residents of Delta Alpha Episalon Nu house can assure you is a flawed process in my case) and trying to get things in order. Hair cut, bank account, library books, car tuned up, etc.
It's a long drive for someone with nothing to think about, besides that race. On the plus side I just constructed a new driving mix for the trip.
1. Maps-Yeah Yeah Yeahs
2. Float On--Modest Mouse
3. Jenny and the Ess Dog--Malkmus
4. In Da Club--50 Cent
5. Tennessee--Silver Jews
6. Mahna Mahna Song
7. Smile--Pearl Jam
8. All I Want is You--U2
9. I believe in Miracle (Ramones cover)--Pearl Jam
10. Clocks--Coldplay
11. Alligators in NY Sewers--Radiohead
12. Every little thing she does is magic--The Police
13. Random Rules--Silver Jews
14. Bad Day--REM
15. Ocean Breathes Salty--Modest Mouse
16. Nobody Does it Better--Radiohead
17. Present Tense--Pearl Jam
18. The Scientist--Coldplay
19. Don't Walk Alone--Tim Easton
20. Wolf at the Door--Radiohead
(For those wondering the title of the CD is.... Be Cool Like a Penguin, Vote Sanguin). I welcome other suggestions for great driving songs....use the comments for what you'd add to an Aaron Drives to Colorado mix.
It's a long drive for someone with nothing to think about, besides that race. On the plus side I just constructed a new driving mix for the trip.
1. Maps-Yeah Yeah Yeahs
2. Float On--Modest Mouse
3. Jenny and the Ess Dog--Malkmus
4. In Da Club--50 Cent
5. Tennessee--Silver Jews
6. Mahna Mahna Song
7. Smile--Pearl Jam
8. All I Want is You--U2
9. I believe in Miracle (Ramones cover)--Pearl Jam
10. Clocks--Coldplay
11. Alligators in NY Sewers--Radiohead
12. Every little thing she does is magic--The Police
13. Random Rules--Silver Jews
14. Bad Day--REM
15. Ocean Breathes Salty--Modest Mouse
16. Nobody Does it Better--Radiohead
17. Present Tense--Pearl Jam
18. The Scientist--Coldplay
19. Don't Walk Alone--Tim Easton
20. Wolf at the Door--Radiohead
(For those wondering the title of the CD is.... Be Cool Like a Penguin, Vote Sanguin). I welcome other suggestions for great driving songs....use the comments for what you'd add to an Aaron Drives to Colorado mix.
Thursday, May 06, 2004
Mahna Mahna
"Mahna Mahna" (sung by Mahna Mahna and the Snowths)
Mahna mahna
(ba dee bedebe)
mahna mahna
(ba debe dee)
mahna mahna
(ba dee bedebe badebe badebe dee dee de-de de-de-de)
mah mama na mahna mah namwomp mwomp
ma mo mo mana mo
mahna mahna
(ba dee bedebe)
mahna mahna
(ba debe dee)
Mahna Mahna!
(ba dee bedebe bedebe badebe debe de-de de-de-de)
long pause)
... mahna mahna?
The song was written by Piero Umiliani and is originally from the 1969 Avco Embassy film, Sweden Heaven and Hell.
Mahna mahna
(ba dee bedebe)
mahna mahna
(ba debe dee)
mahna mahna
(ba dee bedebe badebe badebe dee dee de-de de-de-de)
mah mama na mahna mah namwomp mwomp
ma mo mo mana mo
mahna mahna
(ba dee bedebe)
mahna mahna
(ba debe dee)
Mahna Mahna!
(ba dee bedebe bedebe badebe debe de-de de-de-de)
long pause)
... mahna mahna?
The song was written by Piero Umiliani and is originally from the 1969 Avco Embassy film, Sweden Heaven and Hell.
A Story of Drunken Stumbling
Not mine, rather a link from Nate Marsh's blog (also on Horns2K). Brilliant. You have to read the whole thing, but choice phrases:
"We had a chance to meet with the bar-lady, who was kinda creepy. And a younger server Troy aka "Troyota" who showed us some pictures of his pimped-out Toyota & detailed his long term plans for the ultimate slut-mobile, I wish him great success. Oh and Horns proving his utter baddassity by taking a little pick-me up in the booth"
UPON ENTERING THE HOTEL ROOM
"I wisely removed my shoes at this point, the reasoning I will never know. After surveying the empty room, I abruptly realized in needed to find my friends and decided to venture outside the safe room.
With all the abruptness of this realization, I didn't have time to put on shores, I am just wearing my socks, but it's all good...
I don't have to walk far to find Jake. He's standing in the median, attempting to flag down passing cars in an energetic, almost cheerleaderish fashion."
"We had a chance to meet with the bar-lady, who was kinda creepy. And a younger server Troy aka "Troyota" who showed us some pictures of his pimped-out Toyota & detailed his long term plans for the ultimate slut-mobile, I wish him great success. Oh and Horns proving his utter baddassity by taking a little pick-me up in the booth"
UPON ENTERING THE HOTEL ROOM
"I wisely removed my shoes at this point, the reasoning I will never know. After surveying the empty room, I abruptly realized in needed to find my friends and decided to venture outside the safe room.
With all the abruptness of this realization, I didn't have time to put on shores, I am just wearing my socks, but it's all good...
I don't have to walk far to find Jake. He's standing in the median, attempting to flag down passing cars in an energetic, almost cheerleaderish fashion."
Wednesday, May 05, 2004
"I'm talking about people having a good time..."
A caller to the Rush show commented (as reported by Wonkette ) that the now famous stack of naked Iraqiis was "like a college fraternity prank."
RUSH: Exactly. Exactly my point! This is no different than what happens at the skull and bones initiation and we're going to ruin people's lives over it and we're going to hamper our military effort, and then we are going to really hammer them because they had a good time. You know, these people are being fired at every day. I'm talking about people having a good time, these people, you ever heard of emotional release? You of heard of need to blow some steam off?
Okay two basic thoughts. If Rush is right and this is how the Skull and Bones initiation happens is he calling GWB and JKF man-pyramid-making-queers? And if not, wouldn't that be a great phrase.
Second, the last time I checked torture and humiliation weren't made acceptable when you were fired upon. Haven't read the Geneva convention, but I'm guessing it doesn't include a "unless you need to blow some steam off" clause.
Like wonkette, I'm shocked by RL's comfortability with the seemingly homoerotic nature of the crime. Oh, right, it's okay to be naked and simulate anal sex with other men as long as it's for a frat. In fact then it's manly, and a birthright of the ruling class. Weird.
RUSH: Exactly. Exactly my point! This is no different than what happens at the skull and bones initiation and we're going to ruin people's lives over it and we're going to hamper our military effort, and then we are going to really hammer them because they had a good time. You know, these people are being fired at every day. I'm talking about people having a good time, these people, you ever heard of emotional release? You of heard of need to blow some steam off?
Okay two basic thoughts. If Rush is right and this is how the Skull and Bones initiation happens is he calling GWB and JKF man-pyramid-making-queers? And if not, wouldn't that be a great phrase.
Second, the last time I checked torture and humiliation weren't made acceptable when you were fired upon. Haven't read the Geneva convention, but I'm guessing it doesn't include a "unless you need to blow some steam off" clause.
Like wonkette, I'm shocked by RL's comfortability with the seemingly homoerotic nature of the crime. Oh, right, it's okay to be naked and simulate anal sex with other men as long as it's for a frat. In fact then it's manly, and a birthright of the ruling class. Weird.
See Neil Gray's Band....win a burkha
Neil Gray's band (a collection of smarter-than-me Columbia med students) plays its first, not-because-it's-a-Columbia-party-gig, this Monday May 10th. Some of you will know Neil from his inspired leadership of the before their era band: Special in Other Ways. Neil's innovative approach to stage presence (sitting) and his searing guitar work enabled that band to shine where others had faltered. And it gave us the greatest overheard line in concert history, courtesy of ABJ:
"John, John, listen, we're not playing that song right now. John. John. Stop. That's not the song!"
Neil informs me the band does Doors, Pink Floyd, Pixies and other covers and some rockin' (that's right I dropped the "g" because it's neil and they are rockin') orginals
Full details on Extra Vaganza.
"John, John, listen, we're not playing that song right now. John. John. Stop. That's not the song!"
Neil informs me the band does Doors, Pink Floyd, Pixies and other covers and some rockin' (that's right I dropped the "g" because it's neil and they are rockin') orginals
Full details on Extra Vaganza.
It's a little "The Bell-Curvey", but....
IQ and Democratic votes may be correlated. I'd love to believe causal...but let's take this one step at a time.
What I want for my next birthday
I went to a Flaming Lips concert when I was in college. It was probably the best concert I've ever seen. Or at least the most spectacular. It was in fact just that--spectacle. Midway through the show, the lights went to about 15% and Wayne Coyne (lead singer) began throwing baggies into the audience. He told everyone to wait till the lights came back on to open their presents. He turns away from the crowd, putting on a 2.5x2.5 strobe light. When the music kicks in and the lights flash on, he turns around and is wearing this amazing contraption. We open the baggies, inside they are filled with white confetti. The lights go up and down throughout the song, but a strobe light that large and that powerful is fucking amazing. I could see through my eyelids. I would close my eyes and could still see outlines of people. It was the best argument I've ever experienced for drug use.
So now the Flaming Lips are at it again. Witness this report from Coachella (which mark, brian and allison tell me was unreal. Very warm, but apparently the Pixies are amazing live)
"The Flaming Lips also performed on the main stage in front of the 50,000 person strong crowd, though their set time was cut short due to technical difficulties frontman Wayne Coyne had with trying to get inside a plastic bubble the group had brought on as a stage prop." That's right, Coyne apparently tried to use a giant hamster ball to "crowd-roll". Wow.
So now the Flaming Lips are at it again. Witness this report from Coachella (which mark, brian and allison tell me was unreal. Very warm, but apparently the Pixies are amazing live)
"The Flaming Lips also performed on the main stage in front of the 50,000 person strong crowd, though their set time was cut short due to technical difficulties frontman Wayne Coyne had with trying to get inside a plastic bubble the group had brought on as a stage prop." That's right, Coyne apparently tried to use a giant hamster ball to "crowd-roll". Wow.
Tuesday, May 04, 2004
Silver Jews
I've been re-listening to most of my Silver Jews collection (American Water, Natural Bridge, Starlight Walker, and some other random songs). So good. I forgot just how much I love their lyrics:
"The stars don't shine on us, we're just in the way of their light"
"Moments can be monuments to you/If your life is interesting and true."
"I want to wander through the night as a figure in the distance even to my own eye"
"It's been evening all day long. How can something so old be so wrong."
"Half hours on earth what are they worth. I don't know. In 27 years I've drunk 50,000 beers and they just wash against me like the sea into a pier."
"On the last day of your life, don't forget to die."
"Fake I.D.'s and honeybees/the jagged skyline of car keys"
"My ski vest has buttons like convenience store mirrors/and they help me see, that everything in this room right now is a part of me. "
"I am the trick my mother played on the world "
"Windex tears flow down the robot's face."
"Oil paintings of x-rated picnics./Behind the walls of medication I'm free."
"I love to see a rainbow from a garden hose/lit up like the blood of a centerfold/I love the city and the city rain,/suburban kids with biblical names"
"So if you don't want me I promise not to linger/But before I go I gotta ask you dear about the tan line on your ring finger. "
"The stars don't shine on us, we're just in the way of their light"
"Moments can be monuments to you/If your life is interesting and true."
"I want to wander through the night as a figure in the distance even to my own eye"
"It's been evening all day long. How can something so old be so wrong."
"Half hours on earth what are they worth. I don't know. In 27 years I've drunk 50,000 beers and they just wash against me like the sea into a pier."
"On the last day of your life, don't forget to die."
"Fake I.D.'s and honeybees/the jagged skyline of car keys"
"My ski vest has buttons like convenience store mirrors/and they help me see, that everything in this room right now is a part of me. "
"I am the trick my mother played on the world "
"Windex tears flow down the robot's face."
"Oil paintings of x-rated picnics./Behind the walls of medication I'm free."
"I love to see a rainbow from a garden hose/lit up like the blood of a centerfold/I love the city and the city rain,/suburban kids with biblical names"
"So if you don't want me I promise not to linger/But before I go I gotta ask you dear about the tan line on your ring finger. "
Circle the Wagons in '08
I've said it before: The race against Norm Coleman in 2008 is going to be un-be-fucking-lievable. First, I think that many of the old Wellstone folks who are further battle hardened and no less pissed off will return. Then a lot of the new friends of the Wellstoners will want to help (the JKDs, Buffys, Phil Jameses, Rodd McLeods, Tanners, Emmets, Brians, Emilys?, Mahoods?, Matts Baldwisons?, are likely to rock out). I joked on the Dean campaign that the 2008 race will feature former field directors in canvasser roles because we'll be that jacked. Like the fucking Western Conference All-Star team of political campaigns.
I think I'll want to be there. I think that could be fun. Sounds as though Al Franken is seriously considering running for the seat. I'd like to work for him. Short, articulate, progressive, Jewish, former wrestler, not a native Minnesotan but loves it dearly--sounds good, and familiar.
There is also a State Senator, Mee Moua for whom I would work. She is the first Hmong elected to a legislative body in the country. Progressive, bright, feisty, passionate about grassroots activism, big Wellstone fan.
It promises to be a huge race. Gotta find a way to get on that one.
I think I'll want to be there. I think that could be fun. Sounds as though Al Franken is seriously considering running for the seat. I'd like to work for him. Short, articulate, progressive, Jewish, former wrestler, not a native Minnesotan but loves it dearly--sounds good, and familiar.
There is also a State Senator, Mee Moua for whom I would work. She is the first Hmong elected to a legislative body in the country. Progressive, bright, feisty, passionate about grassroots activism, big Wellstone fan.
It promises to be a huge race. Gotta find a way to get on that one.
Monday, May 03, 2004
Holding Down the Fort
So after a tremendously strange and in some ways annoying job hunt process---I'm off to Colorado. I'm going to be managing Bob Bacon's state senate race in lovely Fort Collins. This is in contrast to the rumors ( I, myself spread) that I was going to be in DC. Apparently I am not experienced enough in the field to work for 21st Century Dems. This was hard to hear, but such is life. What can I do? Objectively I don't have as much field experience as others...but I like to think I'm fairly bright and quick of study. But in the end...that wasn't the test. So I'm off to Colorado.
It's going to be amazing and exciting. I'll be calling upon the insight, friendship and support of nearly everyone reading this blog (unless for some reason random folks started reading all of a sudden) in the months to come.
Wish me luck, as I endeavor to go forth and do good.
It's going to be amazing and exciting. I'll be calling upon the insight, friendship and support of nearly everyone reading this blog (unless for some reason random folks started reading all of a sudden) in the months to come.
Wish me luck, as I endeavor to go forth and do good.
A Feature Not Found on DFA*
Emily and I were talking about how much we heart Tom Harkin. She was sad because she couldn't find a photo of him in his vest (dapper man that he is). So I went in search of such a photo. Sadly I found none, but I did find a link to a photo on JerseyGOP.com. He was listed as a "jackass." The wit of the right.
I scrolled down through the list. Came to Gwyneth Paltrow. I quote: "We were hoping to add Gwyn to our site on the babe page, but she married an idiot and now finds herself here." Babe page? Hmmm.
I venture over to said page. It's a bunch of thumbnails of "Republican" (I'll explain the quotes) women. Some are fairly attractive, I guess. But there are many infuriating parts of this page.
1st. The heading: Beauty and Brains Competition archive. This would lead you to believe that there is some competition. Nope. Second you might assume that said competition would be related to these women's intellect and beauty. Nope. There seems to be only a few quotes that explain that these women are in fact Republicans. But none of the quotes I've read suggest that they are George Will in a skirt.
2nd. Some of these women are decidedly not attractive. Either as people or physically. I submit Peggy Noonan. Does that mean that Barbara Mikulski is a "babe." Peggy Noonan, come now, that's a stretch.
3rd. Some of these women are attractive, I guess, but I fail to see how they are proven to be Republicans. Example 1. Example 2. This begs the question: at what point does the JerseyGOP site just become a softcore site.
A horrible, foul boss of mine (in Democratic politics) once said, I don't trust any one who calls himself a Democrat and doesn't love pussy and getting drunk. So I'm not making any argument about the decency of men in either party. But this is such a strange and public display of machismo. The lipservice played to considerations about these women's intelligence is stupid. If you're going to have pinups on your web site, at least have the cajones to call it that.
I shall now search for a Democratic version of the same. Just to prove how far we have to go. (as a party..and country)
* I do think it would be fun to have the "Hotties of DFA" Gender balance, and with an eye towards the beauty of the geek a real combination of beauty and brains. For men I would nominate: Dan Craig, Reid DeWolfe (from a long line of deserters) Matt Robinson, Gray Brooks, and maybe Silbatron..though he's really normal looking, kind of out of bounds. For women...can't do that without offending others or outing myself...so I'll leave that for the comments.
I scrolled down through the list. Came to Gwyneth Paltrow. I quote: "We were hoping to add Gwyn to our site on the babe page, but she married an idiot and now finds herself here." Babe page? Hmmm.
I venture over to said page. It's a bunch of thumbnails of "Republican" (I'll explain the quotes) women. Some are fairly attractive, I guess. But there are many infuriating parts of this page.
1st. The heading: Beauty and Brains Competition archive. This would lead you to believe that there is some competition. Nope. Second you might assume that said competition would be related to these women's intellect and beauty. Nope. There seems to be only a few quotes that explain that these women are in fact Republicans. But none of the quotes I've read suggest that they are George Will in a skirt.
2nd. Some of these women are decidedly not attractive. Either as people or physically. I submit Peggy Noonan. Does that mean that Barbara Mikulski is a "babe." Peggy Noonan, come now, that's a stretch.
3rd. Some of these women are attractive, I guess, but I fail to see how they are proven to be Republicans. Example 1. Example 2. This begs the question: at what point does the JerseyGOP site just become a softcore site.
A horrible, foul boss of mine (in Democratic politics) once said, I don't trust any one who calls himself a Democrat and doesn't love pussy and getting drunk. So I'm not making any argument about the decency of men in either party. But this is such a strange and public display of machismo. The lipservice played to considerations about these women's intelligence is stupid. If you're going to have pinups on your web site, at least have the cajones to call it that.
I shall now search for a Democratic version of the same. Just to prove how far we have to go. (as a party..and country)
* I do think it would be fun to have the "Hotties of DFA" Gender balance, and with an eye towards the beauty of the geek a real combination of beauty and brains. For men I would nominate: Dan Craig, Reid DeWolfe (from a long line of deserters) Matt Robinson, Gray Brooks, and maybe Silbatron..though he's really normal looking, kind of out of bounds. For women...can't do that without offending others or outing myself...so I'll leave that for the comments.
Saturday, May 01, 2004
What The Corn 1s Have Been Doing Since Jan 19th
A resident of Cedar Rapids (City of 5 Seasons, because the normal four aren't enough to capture the smell of cereal) has invented a G-string for dogs that reduces the odor of doggie flatulence.
"CEDAR RAPIDS, Iowa — Dogs may no longer be the butt of their owners' jokes, thanks to Frank Morosky. Morosky, owner of Flat-D Innovations, has developed a product to reduce the odor of flatulence in dogs."
Dogs will no longer be the butt of jokes, but owners of this product will be. Another fun thought, this article came from ESPN which implies that this is some how related to sports. I have to assume hunting. You cannot strap a fart killing g-string to your coon hound just before you settle in to the nearest Chief Justice filled duck blind, and expect to be called a Sportsmen. Sorry.
"CEDAR RAPIDS, Iowa — Dogs may no longer be the butt of their owners' jokes, thanks to Frank Morosky. Morosky, owner of Flat-D Innovations, has developed a product to reduce the odor of flatulence in dogs."
Dogs will no longer be the butt of jokes, but owners of this product will be. Another fun thought, this article came from ESPN which implies that this is some how related to sports. I have to assume hunting. You cannot strap a fart killing g-string to your coon hound just before you settle in to the nearest Chief Justice filled duck blind, and expect to be called a Sportsmen. Sorry.
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