Is this hell? No, it's Iowa

It's like when you were in middle school (or in my case, now) when you made fun of someone because it was just so damn easy to get a reaction out of them (Elena, you're crazy!). Iowa is just so easy to poke fun at -- it sits there right under Minnesotta growing it's corn and soy beans every summer and, ummm, doing other stuff the rest of the year.

Every four years the country remembers it exists for a few months until it chooses a candidate in its caucus that doesn't have a snowball's chance in hell of winning it all (Pat Robertson anyone?). Eneter me...

I've been to Iowa a few times for business in the past several months and am about to set out on a 5 week adventure to the Hawkeye state at the end of the week. All I have to say to the Iowans is "you'd damned well better know how to decorate for Christmas." I don't want to see Santa eating corn -- the man likes his cookies! Rudolph eats carrots, not some member of the legume family dammit!

I will try to upload some fun stuff to this blog but if you really want to see what I'm up to, find my reporters profile on facebook as they actually pay me to update that site.

In Love with Words

I can watch television shows and films written by Aaron Sorkin over and over and over. I have worn through the box set of Sports Night -- I have watched the first four seasons of The West Wing at least three times each (in some cases four times I think). The American President is a rare film in the vein of Shawshank and Jaws in that it really doesn't matter where I start watching.

I took a bit of criticism last week when my friend came over to find my newest Sorkin purchase: the first (and last) season of Studio 60... I'm no dope -- I get it -- Studio 60... was insulting to the average American and many a viewer were, by now, tired of Sorkin's knack for scenes in which 15 people all spoke, rapid fire, over one another.

It doesn't take away from the man's brilliance. Sure his words are coated with cocaine and according to a co-worker who got to see an episode of The West Wing being shot (I want to get into his brain and steal that memory)the man lends new meaning to the term "motherf$cker." I get it, but good LORD the man can write. I'll lend you my dvd of the first season finale of Sports Night (and by lend I mean bring it to your house, watch it with you, and bring it back home) and you'll get wrapped up in the words too. Sure, they're not how real people talk, but his language is intoxicating and his characters so wonderfully idiosyncratic that it just doesn't matter that they aren't speaking realistically.

Saturday the 2nd, Aztec Two-Step at the Bottom Line with Gordon. Sunday the 10th, Turandot at Lincoln Center with Gordon. I'm assuming, although your modifier was dangling, that you were going WITH Gordon to SEE Turandot, and that you weren't going to SEE Gordon IN Turandot."

The Boss Will See You Now

Do you want to cure the malady I mentioned in my previous post? It's simple really, just make an appointment to see this man:


So I was a little down in the dumps this weekend. It was cold and gray and I was feeling sorry for myself...then last night I had the sad slapped out of me by probably the most magnificent live performer rock and roll has ever seen. The Boss, my man from NJ, Mr. Bruce Springsteen. You can't go to one of his shows and leave with a frown on your face. I don't believe it is humanly possible. Your dog just get run over? Go see Bruce. Did you just get fired and come home to find your girlfriend in bed with your best friend? No worries, go see Bruce.

If you can still feel sorry for yourself after they juice up the houselights as the boys from E Street start blasting the opening chords of "Born To Run," you need to hand in your membership to the human race. If you can still hang your head after pumping your fists in the air along with 20,000 of your closest friends while screaming "STRAP YOUR HANDS CROSS MY ENGINES" then there is no hope for you.

Some in the arena last night may have scratched their heads because the Boss played half old stuff half new stuff (and the old stuff was largely his brilliant but less commercial fair). The thing is, it just doesn't matter. I'd pay the $100 ticket price to hear him rock out to two hours of "Happy Birthday" and "Row, Row, Row Your Boat." He energizes you like alligator clips on your nipples.

As Jon Stewart said in his review of last month's NYC shows, "Are you a fan of joy? Do you like joy?" Why yes Mr. Stewart, yes I am!

Rainy days, Mondays, and sometimes the fall get me down

Melancholy - ˈme-lən-ˌkä-lē
adj
depressed in spirits : dejected : pensive

I have a love hate relationship with the fall. I love cold weather, sweaters, scarves, and warm hats but the gray skies and brown leaves get me down. It's an interesting dichotomy really -- the trees in brilliant red and yellow, the air with a little bite in it one minute, gone the next, replaces with barren branches, a brown crunch under your feet and that dreary cold that gets into your lungs.

This mood probably isn't being helped by my listening to Death Cab and The Submarines and watching "The Last Kiss" -- anyone got a razor blade? But really, it's both my favorite and least favorite time of year. Once we get past Thanksgiving and I can put up my Christmas tree this will all fade away, but right now it kind of sucks.

Anyway, that's enough venting for now. It' just me and the "Ratatouille" DVD on this chilly Saturday (once I make it through "The Last Kiss") so maybe I'll make up for a month-longblog hiatus with some special extras.

Gentlemen Only Ladies Forbiden

Every spring I call a couple buddies and hit the course for a round of 18. At some point during the day the following conversation inevitably occurs:

Me: ya know, I think this summer I'm gonna take a couple lessons. I think if
I had someone to make minor adjustments to help me be more consistent I could
feel confident enough to play more often and on some better courses

Golfing Buddy: Yeah, it's a great idea. Some minor adjustments can go a long
way.

Then spring turns to summer and summer to fall -- now, here I sit having golfed a grand total of once this season and having taken a grand total of no lessons. I enjoy the game, but more than that I enjoy the camaraderie. There's little out there better than three or four guys all sucking more or less equally at the game and sharing stories of women, booze or women and booze. Yeah sure, there's the goal of getting a respectable score too but more than that is the opportunity to be with the guys somewhere other than a bar or in front of a widescreen tv (both of which are great places to hang out mind you).

So next year, in addition to taking a lesson or two I'm just going to get out there more.

Radiohate no more?

Radiohead has been a band that I have wanted to like for a long time. An odd turn of phrase, yes, but I have listened to plenty of their stuff and save for "Creep" and "High and Dry" I just never seem to be able to get into them. I WANT to like them. I'm a connoisseur of good music and I feel like I'm not on board an important musical train when it comes to this band. Part of it always had to do with Thom Yorke's voice (Thom with an "h"?? Really??). It was so odd it distracted me from enjoying the music behind him (which is admittedly amazing!) It's the same reason I want to find the A&R that signed Clap Your Hands Say Yeah and punch him in the face.

This brings me to last evening. I decided, since it wasn't going to cost me a dime, to download the new Radiohead album, "In Rainbows." The band is "selling" their album on their website for whatever you'd like to pay -- $0, $100, or anything in between. Normally I would support such an idea by paying $5-$10 for the download. I thought in this instance, for a band I don't particularly enjoy I would download it for free (yeah, I'm "that guy"). What I found was particularly enjoyable. Yorke's voice is a bit more normalized and the music behind him is as brilliant as ever. I also found that perhaps I was listening wrong all this time. Radiohead isn't about rousing rock anthems that you sing along to, it's about ambient music that complements your surroundings. Ok, Ok, yes that sounded really trite, but it's also true. I walked all over DC this afternoon with my white ear buds firmly in place and really enjoyed the album as a kind of background for the world.

I doubt you'll find me singing along to the at times indiscernible lyrics but you'll definitely find me listening again -- and I may even go back and tackle the older albums with my new listening theory.

Back in Black

I wonder how many times I can reinvent this blog without losing my credibility. Too late you say? Probably. Thanks in large part to http://mike-nagel.blogspot.com I've been inspired to put finger to key and get writing again. My environs seem to have changed since we last one-way spoke. I now sit in one of my favorite places in the city. The thing is that the city has changed. The Eastern market neighborhood of Washington DC was recently listed in the top ten most desirable neighborhoods list compiled by some authority on such matters. It's only a few short blocks from my kick-ass apartment on Capitol Hill and I have been lazy (read: cheap) lately so I come here to Port Java coffee house to get onto the internet for the low price of a tall chai latte.

So the land of white marble monuments may not be able to compare the city of steel and ambition but our nation's capital has its charms. Come visit and I'll show you what I mean.

For now, sit back an enjoy what will be a steady stream of posts until I get bored again.