I was Born To Wear THIS.

Rarely have I seen cloth and stitching that so purely melded with my style and preferences. Well, here they are friends. Take a good look because you'll never see them on me. They cost about $250. POOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

One of you photoshopping wizards can include me somehow.

Wordplay

Saw this little gem last night with the little lady. I've about burned Didi on the documentary ("This is all you get from Blockbuster online which is a fantastic deal at just $5.99 per month!"), so that all informative programming has become anathema to her (this was also aided by Jiff's "Thomas Jefferson: A Complicated Life" Christmas present; this thing was a clabbered amalgam of photos--many of which were repeated--sifted through while an elderly drip read a lifeless account of one of great founding fathers. Remember when your high school history teacher was burnt out on hormone-crazed teens, or was facing menopausal challenges of her own, and just wanted to get away from it all for a day or two by forcing some dreary film on the class as a sedative? Well, "Thomas Jefferson: A Complicated Life" was crap even by THAT standard).

But this Wordplay was a hit! It was quirky and odd, nerdy and sincere. Jon Steward was very funny, and Bill Clinton was, as usual, frustratingly likable. And we couldn't believe how much we cared about whether Trip the Homosexual was going to beat Al-Who-Reminds-Me-Of-Dave-Davenport Project Manager in the Crossword Finals. Fun little film, here. Hooray Will Shortz!

Cruel Shoes

I have these shoes. They're made by the good folks at Keen, who can look at a foot and see that it's bigger at the toe end than the heel end. I don't know why that's hard for other shoe makers to see, but my point is, the Keen folks see that. I will be buying more Keen shoes in the future.

I consider these to be new shoes for me. I think I got them maybe 9 months ago, but I still think they're new. The tread is impeccable (you can still read 'non-marking' etched into the bottom), the scuffing is minimal... I'd say I'm just getting to know these shoes, and it's a pretty good relationship.

But here's the thing: they do smell some. Now, *I* don't find it to be an offensive odor--to me, it smells like leather brought alive by wear. It smells like when a saddle's been ridden and you really get the character of the leather in the odor. I rather like it. I would that my shed smelled this way. But with the cold winter months upon us, I'm wearing the thick socks these days (see photo if you're unfamiliar with thick socks) and maybe that's producing some perspiration (but oh! the warmth!). So, I'm unsure whether:

1) this odor is detectable by others. Since I'm closest to my own feet in most situations, I'd think I get the brunt of the smell, and I cannot know how widely that smell is evangelized. I feel this about my cologne, by the way: are others aware how great I smell? I can never tell.

2) this odor is offensive to others. It's not to me, but I once had a friend who didn't mind the smell of cow manure, because she said it smelled earthy and natural and made her think of a farm. I hope my shoes don't make people think of a farm, necessarily, unless that's a GOOD thought for them.

As usual, I have no idea how many people I'm offending or how deeply. What I do know, though, is that I love these shoes. I have to go with that for now. Stinky horse!

Hot darn!

This, fellow Americans (and expats), is my new sectional. Eat it up.

It is so choice. The wife and myself can fully splay out on this thing but without having to actually touch one another. Is that cracking the code or WHAT?!?

For Joe Simpson

We've been around this one before, but here are some sheesh-inducing lyrics from a yet-unreleased album by the enigmatic band Arcade Fire. Benny the bull is very up on these sorts of things and found these. Wow. Yikes.


Dear God, I'm a good Christian man,
In your glory, I know you understand,
That you gotta work hard and you gotta get paid,
My girl's 13 but she don't act her age.
She can sing like a bird in a cage,
Oh Lord, if you could see her when she's up on that stage!

You know that I'm a God fearing man,
But I just gotta know if its part of your plan
To seat my daughters there by your right hand

Lord, will you make her a star?
So the world can see who you really are.
If my little mocking bird don't sing,
Then daddy won't buy her no diamond ring.

Oh God, would you send me a child?
'Cause I wanna put it up on the TV screen,
so the world can see what your true word means.

Oh! My little bird in a cage!
Oh! My little bird in a cage!
I need you to get up for me, up on that stage,
and show the men that you're old for your age.
Oh! My little mockingbird sing!
Oh! My little mockingbird sing!
I need you to get up on that stage for me, honey,
And show the men it's not about the money.

Do you know where I was at your age?
Any idea where I was at your age?
I was working downtown for the minimum wage.
And I'm not gonna let you just throw it all away.
I'm through being cute, I'm through being nice,
Oh tell me, Lord, am I the Antichrist?

Hard to miss, as Benny says, the correlation between those who were supposed to shepherd the church and instead selling her out for his own purposes. Yucky, yucky. yucky.

From my Chicago Weekend!

This is for Ronald

I put my life in jeopardy by taking photos on the highway in windy snow.
Was it worth it?

Why I Love Sports

CBS or whoever's showing the Big Game this year (that euphemism cracks me up) ran a special today on the '72 Dolphins. In it, Larry Csonka talked about standing in the huddle during a tense moment of the Super Bowl. His team was conferring about the upcoming play, which would be a handoff to him. According to Csonka:

"Someone in the huddle said, 'If anything goes wrong, you follow me,' and as I looked around that group, every single guy was pointing at himself indicating that I was to follow THEM. One of them said 'if you have to put your head up my ass, you follow me into the end zone.' And I tell you, if I could get in a time machine and relive any moment, it would be those five seconds looking into the eyes of each of my linemen. I have never felt so confident about anything in my life."

Of couse, I sat on my couch and cried. It's not just that I enjoy stories like that, I NEED stories like that. I believe that life is about relationship, nothing else. It's not about achievement, or service, or knowledge, or pride. It's about relationship. Relationships are the only thing we'll take beyond the grave. And I just love when the drama of relationships happens on a grand stage. Where else does this happen in the public eye except in sports? Not in the tv/movie world. Certainly not in business. Rarely in books (but go read ¨A River Runs Through It¨ if you haven't already) or music. But take an exception; think of the 'desperados': Kristofferson, Cash, Jennings--the stories from those enduring friendships just invigorate me. I love reading about how those guys came through for each other, divorce after divorce, overdose after overdose, career breakdown after career breakdown. They were all screwed up, but were devoted to one another. You cannot improve on that.

I sat there on the couch in wonder at myself, trying to figure out why I get so touched at these sorts of things. And darn it, I just love the familial devotion that's created on the field of play. You feel the same thing with Band of Brothers, right? I mean, even if you're a pacifist, doesn't something in there make you want to go to war with a pack of friends? It does me.

So I observe myself. Here are the hobbies/activities that draw the fullness of my attention like nothing else:

1) playing basketball,
2) creative collaboration (music, writing, film), and
3) being the church.

Each of those things are about mutual trust, vulnerability, and effort. I love it. What's so captivating about the David and Johnathan story is the purity of their bond to one another. It overcame blood (because, as peepee likes to remind me, "there is a friend that sticks ˆcloserˆ than a brother"), distance, and politics. And I want these men around my life. I want to know who it is that will give themselves beyond their money or social standing, beyond their misgivings or career interests. I want to be that friend and, I confess, those are the only friends I really want in my life.

You know, we won't ever play in a Super Bowl together. We won't stand shoulder to shoulder in a trench advancing against the Nazis, but we are in battle that's cosmically bigger than both. We're fighting against apathy and greed and idolatry and entropy and all the minions of the devil himself. I want to be the guy in the huddle, pointing at my chest and silently whispering "when push comes to shove, you come this way, boy-o."

Praise God for friends. Thank you God.

Didi Gets The Props

Click above to see Didi's bidness get some P.T. in a local rag! Yow!

It's called "Cin Weekly" which I think is more informative than directive. Actually, I think they'd probably reccommend sinning DAILY. Who's with me? Hello?

it's a Big Big Show Show!

First of all, come to this show. Get your 12 closest friends to join you. Come both nights. If I wasn't on stage during it, I'd buy a couple of tickets online right now, then buy a couple more at the door. I would. I really would.

I been stapling these up to every community board, notice wall, and homeless person in town. I want to, as they say, "get out the word". I was in a Starbucks BRAND donation location today (where you donate $5 for 50c coffee, like when you donate $1,000 to some charity and they give you a book), and said:

Me: Do you have to get any special permission to post something on your community board there?
Disillusioned Gen Xer: Well, kind of. I mean, what's it for?
Me: Just a concert.
DGXer: Oh, no that's fine. As long as it's not something negative...
Me:No, it's an anti-Jew concert. So, no problem, right?
DGXer: .
Me: Kidding! Kidding. I'll just... um... [staple, staple]

Mr. Smooth Rides Again

That title could refer to a new laxative, but it doesn't.


I'm on the phone with my friend Robbie, and I'm going to close out the conversation. I'm going to end it with something jaunty. I might say "see you later, PAL", but I want something more street. "Adios, homes" works. I'm kind of debating between something like that: homes, homeboy... not SPORT or CHIEF or anything like that. Yeah, homes. I could even go with homey in a self-aware kind of way. Definitely homeSOMEthing. I'm at the moment, we're doing closing comments, I haven't decided, gotta decide now, how do I end this call? What comes out is

Later, homo.

Was that bad? Is that wrong?