(A.K.A. mish-mash)

so, i haven't updated in a week or so–as usual, unfortunately–but i'm still around.

sara ran the 10 Miler and finished in 1hour 40minutes, which is better than she had expected (running an average of almost precisely 10 minute miles, which is her normal pace). she did great.

this past weekend it seems like i was just busy busy busy… a party friday night after spending most of the evening with Sara. then on Saturday there was a big shindig at our friend neil's new apartment (neil of Old Man fame), which was quite fun. then on sunday was dinner with sara's family (for her grandfather's birthday) and then the usual sunday night band-practice (with the twist of it being our next-to-last pre-show practice). all in all, it was a fun weekend, but i'm feeling a bit drained today.

protest-records continues to release additional volumes of material, and the Mudhoney track released there is quite good and taps into that almost tongue-in-cheek flair they get when they're writing political/or social-commentary songs. Mark Arm!

i keep finding things that i think i should post about, then forgetting what they were before i make it back to a computer or out from under my workload long enough to type something up. but this little tidbit i *just* found, and am surprised that i hadn't heard of it's existing before now. it's the annual human-rights report compiled by the U.S. State Department which lists all known human-rights violations perpetrated by all countries in the last year. If you're a human rights activist and *aren't* aware of this (and have several hours to spare, reading) you should get your ass on over to the 2002 Human Rights Report to see which nations you should be pissed at, and which nations you might want to reconsider taking your vacation in.

and later this week: lucifigous prick rocks the Rud. Apr. 11th (that's this coming Friday, for you slow people), 10:00PM, $4.00 cover. it's gonna be a great set, and we're opening up (which means get your crazy little asses there before 10:00PM) for a couple great bands: blue goat war and front porch campaign. come with your rockin shoes on.

One of my personal philosophies that I've developed and repeatedly referenced in the last 10 or so years is that "every place is the same." I suppose this is akin to the phrase "no matter where you go, there you are."

Essentially, the idea is that every place has the same components. They may be bigger, faster, older, or cleaner, but it's all basically the same stuff. The names may be different, but the story is still the same. This is becoming increasingly true with this whole global culture and corporate globalization thing that's going on nowadays.

I've noticed this in pretty much every city i've visited–you've got the same collection of bars and restaurants, churches and malls, tattoo parlours and trendy fashion boutiques. Every city has the same sections–the white trash neighborhoods, the ghettos, the ritzy affluent suburbs, and the bohemian avant-garde artsy areas. When you first get to a new city, either to visit or to live, it's always an exciting time of discovery and finding new places to spend your time. After living in a place for a while, you begin to think about it the same way you thought about all the other places you've lived–that there's nothing to do, nowhere to go, and that things just aren't happening the way or as fast as they should.

Anyone who's ever talked to me about moving to a new city, at least in the last several years, have heard the same comments and questions from me with regard to their reasoning. Quite often, the reasons for people moving are not things that are going to be effected by a change of location. In other words, it's not the place that's the problem, it's the person. If you're bored, unhappy, unsuccessful, or otherwise disenchanted with the current state of your life, the only way to make a change is to change yourself. Sure, moving to a new city will, at least temporarily, provide you with the impetus and fuel for a brief change of lifestyle and the introduction of unknown and exciting events. If you want real, permanent change, you have to make the change within first.

To bring this back to the subject at hand, however, i have to say that Paris is the first place that didn't give me this feeling–of sameness. I walked into Paris and perceived a very distinct feeling of difference. Maybe it was just the fact that all the language within my sphere was foreign, that nothing was immediately or easily understood… that i had to struggle to make sense of certain things that, in an American city, would have been more easily accessible. But there were also certain other subtle differences, not all of which were immediately apparent.

Thinking back on it now, it seems to me that people were not as interpersonally involved, they had no desire to know "my business." There seemed to be more personal respect there, the belief that my business was my own and that i, being there, must know what i'm doing there, and that that was good enough for them. I noticed on many occasions, as i watched the crowd, or singled out certain people with my gaze, that often-times that look would be returned with an equally intense look of perplexity–people who i was looking at were looking at me, trying to figure out if they knew me, and if they didn't, they were wondering why exactly i was looking at them so intently. Who must i be to be so blatantly interested?

And the differences didn't stop there. Another thing that struck me as interesting was the fact that Paris is the most pedestrian friendly city i've ever seen (this may not be saying much, considering the breadth of my experience, but no matter). Between the subways, the bus system, and the taxis, there is essentially no need to own or operate a vehicle in Paris. The only reason you might need one is if you frequently travel outside the city either on business or for pleasure. Despite warnings received before i left, i found the public transportation (and, in fact, most of Paris in general) to be quite clean and well-kept–it was not the foul, dirty, smelly place i'd been told to expect. The only exception to this was the fact that pets are allowed to shit on the sidewalks, and the owners are not obliged to clean up afterwards. Of course, i've been told there is an ordinance making this a punishable offense, but obviously no one was very concerned about it and the ordinance is not generally enforced.

Another telling expression of the pedestrian-friendly nature of Paris is the fact that in a large amount of the city (especially newer larger roadways) there is almost as much sidewalk space as driving space. In the states, it is not unusual to find sidewalks that will barely fit two people abreast, but in Paris it is more common to find sidewalks with seating for fifty that still have room for more than two people walking side-by-side. This, of course, leads to another of those subtle differences… in Paris, on pretty much every street, there are cafes that have outdoor seating, but not like the outdoor seating at American restaurants. In Paris, you'll usually find several rows of small–two person–tables outside, with all the chairs lined up in rows facing towards the street. Even the inside seating nearest the windows is often lined up like this, so that the patrons can look out at the world moving about them, rather than simply at each other or the walls or effects of the restaurant at which they've stopped. In America, however, you usually see large round tables with bench seating for 5 or more. More often than not, these tables are placed at the side of a restaurant, and also often with some protective barrier between the patrons and the outside world.

Parisians seem to be more generally involved in the enjoyment of and celebration of life than the typical American. There are many traditions and social conventions that i was introduced to that drove this point home–hand shaking and bisous on meeting/departing, ensuring that you meet eyes with the person whose glass you're clinking after the toast, serving food for your fellow diners rather than making everyone serve themselves, breaking the meal down into courses rather than throwing everything upon the table (and your plates) at once… these are just a few things i remember. This all points to the desire deep within the French soul, expressed by these social habits and expectations, to take things as they come, and to live and enjoy life to the fullest.

Above all though, for me, Paris felt like somewhere that i could call home–a place i could claim as my own, that would welcome and accept me. I've been to other cities and never felt that draw–that urge. Louisville is such a place, which is why i've chosen to "hang my hat" here. Paris is only the second city i've felt i could live in, and it's nice to finally have another option, should the need or desire to relocate ever arise. Of course, i've also decided that, when i retire, if it is at all possible, i'd like to retire to Deauville, or some equally quaint small French town, preferably on or near a beach.

So, to sum up, i absolutely adored Paris, and have become enamored with French culture in general. It will not be soon enough when i am finally able to return.

(last day in Paris)

Was forced to get up quite early since Andrew's siblings were coming to make use of the Apartment. It was quite a circus with almost two full families in the place. We all shared a little breakfast, then we all set off to go exploring Montmartre (and other areas) together.
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We first went to the Sacre Couer, then to a little market area nearby. After that, we found a little restaurant and all crowded into a back room for lunch.
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After lunch, I split from the pack & went back to the market area to see what souvenirs i could find. In the market square was a large restaurant area, surrounded on the outside by painter's (and other artisans) booths. They were all sitting there painting away, with many other samples of their work there on display for sale.

Unfortunately, as far as souvenir shopping goes, Montmartre wasn't a great place to find "esoteric" or "unique" gifts. It was mainly all the standard stuff, and mainly stuff that i didn't really feel was worth the prices asked. So, in the end, I think i ended up getting stuff for Joyce, Paul, Brax, and that's about it.

Now, my brother and I were scheduled to catch a 6:00pm train to Deauville, and I still wanted to get back to the Louvre again to get some pictures and to sit & sketch the view (an experiment that failed miserably). So i didn't get to just walk around Montmartre like I wanted to, since i spent most of my time there souvenir shopping. I did finally go catch the Metro to the Louvre, walked through the Jardin des Touilleries to the central plaza of the Louvre. I got a few pics from there, then walked back through the Garden to the viewing spot we'd found on our previous trip through.
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After a couple failed attempts to sketch the scene, I just chilled out for a bit before catching the Metro to St. Lazare.

I actually got to the station early, so had to stand around and wait for the family to show up. They did, finally, the tickets were purchased, and Javan & I were on our way.

I think it was the first train ride for both of us, so we enjoyed the experience. We ended up taking lots of photos along the way, probably none of which will turn out.
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Once we finally got to Deauville and found the street we wanted, I slapped him on the back and said "well, you're 15 now. I think you can handle seeing me smoke." (it was actually his birthday, so he'd literally just turned 15) I pulled out a cigarette and lit up. "But, if i ever catch you or hear of you smoking, I'll kick your ass."
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We found the "American House"–the place where my sister used to live that is owned by the exchange education program–and we got to meet the "Deauville girls" (and Jason)

We sat around with them for a while, the plan previously being that the parents (who were being driven to Deauville) should arrive before Javan and I. Since they hadn't shown up, and didn't show up for 30 – 45 minutes, we decided to go on across the street to the restaurant.

We waited for probably another 45 minutes or so, then just went on ahead and ordered. The pizzas were wonderful and very richly flavored. The pie i ordered had ham, cheese, and mushrooms, and was exquisite. The ham used was the French style ham which is smoked/very lightly cooked, not the cold-cut type we're used to.

The parents and Andrew & Sara all eventually did show up, but didn't join us for dinner.

Javan had some Kir & got his picture taken with all the Deauville girls–in France, on his birthday, while his schoolmates were in class. He was getting a big kick out of being the "coolest guy in his school."

After dinner, we went back over to the American house & hung out with Jason for a few more hours until we were afraid our parents just wouldn't let us in the hotel room if we stayed later.

Oh, and it was hilarious during dinner, getting to watch the whole scene with Margaret and her "boy" that's she'd had a year-long crush on.

She'd explained it a little before, but when we got to the pizza place, she was just freaking out. It was a total trip to watch. Plus, of course, all her friends were egging her on, but she couldn't talk to him on her own.

Eventually, as we were checking out, Jason talked to the guy and told him that "it's now or never", then basically dragged Margaret over to talk to him.

They set up a date for the following night, and Margaret was about to explode with excitement.

All in all, one of the funniest things I've seen in a while.

Oh, and it was (as i mentioned earlier) my little bro's 15th birthday. The Deauville girls (& Jason) had a cake for Javan, and there was a little celebration for him after dinner.

Not with a bang, but a whimper.

Today was my first day "on my own" in Paris, so, of course, I did the classic Matt maneuver of getting in a good 12 hour sleep. It doesn't help that i've been staying up until 4:30 – 5:00 in the morning. Add to that the lack of an alarm clock, et voilà, sleep city.

So i woke up a bit depressed and embittered, slowly smoked a few cigarettes, had a bit of old baguette with olive oil & pepper, then attempted to call Sara on her cell.

About 20 minutes after calling her, Andrew showed up from work and began preparing dinner, which was to be in two hours. I decided that 2 hours was a little too short a time for me to go walking about, so i just grabbed a book and sat for a while.

Sara got home a bit later, then Andrew's parents arrived for the dinner. Andrew made fajitas which were quite good. His parents were pleasant and enjoyable company, and it was good to meet my sister's soon-to-be inlaws.

After dinner and a bit of digestion time, i decided to go ahead and do some of the walking I'd planned for earlier today. Andrew & Sara scuttled off to bed, and after a 20 minute fight with a broken zipper on my backpack, I got on my way towards the Arc de Triomphe for some night photos.

On my way down Faisanderie and down Av. Bugeaud, I had to avoid a few prostitutes (both male & female), and merely mumbled a quiet "bonsoir" to one particular girl who shouted "Hi!" to me in a bright cheerful voice. I was making excellent use of brax's city-stride, walking fast without (hopefully) looking like i was trying to.

At some point, i lost my bearings and turned off Av. Foch, if, indeed, i was ever on it, and arrived somehow on Raymond Poincare and walked down to the Place de Victor Hugo. i attempted to reorient myself with the help of my map, but ended up walking down Victor Hugo in the wrong direction anyway. i ended up at Av. Henry Martin before i realized my error, and turned around there & headed back up Victor Hugo.

Of course, had i been thinking properly, i could have gone on to the Trocadero for night-shots of the Eiffel Tower, but i was too set on the Arc as my primary destination.

I finally made it to the Arc & tried to get several shots from unobstructed perspectives, but i'm afraid most of them will be worthless. I also had left my wide-angle lens back at the apt., so I wasn't really able to get any full shots. i seem to be taking a lot of panoramas anyway, so i guess it just fits the photographic theme for this trip anyway.

Once i was mostly satisfied with the number of pictures taken, I set off down the Champs Élysées. Again, had i been thinking more clearly, or planned ahead a little better, i could have taken a number of much straighter shots to the Eiffel.

About halfway down the Champs Élysées, I turned right onto Av. Montaigne, the expensive street from the first night's adventures. Along the way, I found the expensive dress, shoes, and purse, and got a couple pictures of them for entertainment value.

At the end of Montaigne, I passed the cafe where we'd sat for drinks and crossed over to Av. de President Wilson.

Originally, i was going to walk up to the Trocadero, but i checked the time and realized that i really should get home & to bed (it's now four hours later as i write this… so much for good intentions). So i veered off onto Longchamp and walked the rest of the way home.

Just before i reached Faisanderie, a man turned and called out to me (in French, of course) and the suddenness of having to interact blew what little french i had straight out of my mind. "No parlez français," i replied.

No matter, he knew enough english to request a cigarette, said "merci" several times, and then was on his way. I didn't think to ask if he needed a light as well, and i couldn't think of a way to say "it's nothing" in French (or "you're welcome" for that matter.)

I got home shortly thereafter and took a few outside shots of the apt. before going inside.

Tomorrow i need to get some more Metro tickets and get out of the 16th for a while. After lunch with Sara, anyway.

—

a shorter one today, as i ended up screwing up most of that day by sleeping or getting lost. c'est la vie.

Sara (my beloved sis) brutally began waking me up around 1 or 1:30pm, and let me tell you: it was not a pleasant experience. After the previous day's walking, my body was sore and tired. After the previous 2 days with little sleep, I did not even want to consider waking up.

But, we were scheduled to meet some of Sara's friends at the train station, so I had little choice. We were also meeting Luigi for brunch a little bit later.

I got up & wearily dressed & prepared for the day. We left shortly thereafter and boarded the Metro bound for the train station. At the station (which is just huge) we met Laura & Margaret, and talked briefly with them before they got on their train to Deauville. Then, we took another Metro to le Marais.

Our destination in the Marais district was a particular cafe that is apparently a favorite of Paulo's, and we met up with Luigi at the intersection of the side street where the cafe was located. Apparently however, the cafe has closed and been replaced by an Italian restaurant.

So, the plans changed, we wandered le Marais for a short while, looking for a good place for brunch.

Now, Sara had described le Marais to me as the "gay jewish" section of Paris, and, while i really didn't notice any of the latter, the former were certainly present in abundance.

Eventually, we found a nice (but very crowded) restaurant where we could sit and have brunch. The brunch menu consisted of a basket of very good breads, 2 large salads with sliced ham, sliced smoked (practically raw) ham, sliced smoked salmon (again, practically raw), and three cheeses. Each salad was meant to be shared by two people. There were also scrambled eggs, which were brought out after the salad, and "unlimited hot drink"–meaning, basically any of the hot drinks on their menu, of which i chose cappuccino. The cappuccino was excellent, very smooth–not bitter or gritty (unlike most cappuccino's i've had in american coffee shops). The rest of the brunch was equally tasty.

At some point during the meal, Sara & Luigi started speaking Italian. It is a bit funny how i came all the way to Paris, but seemed to hear more English and Italian than French. Of course, that has more to do with Sara's friends than anything. And of course, my sister is apparently trying to add a fifth language to the collection of languages that she at least partially knows.

After brunch, we walked from our restaurant in le Marais, down to the Rue de Rivoli, and down the Rivoli to the Louvre. We entered the Louvre near it's center and walked into it's giant courtyard. From there, we walked roughly east through the middle of the courtyard, and into the Jardin des Tuileries. This garden was extraordinarily huge, and we walked slowly, enjoying the weather and surroundings.

About halfway through the garden, Luigi left us to go study or work on something, and Sara, Andrew, and I continued on. At the end of the garden, Sara suggested we go into a little shop so i could attempt to find some souvenirs for friends back home. The only thing of interest was a planting kit for Absinthe, but I know that at least the drink is illegal in the states, so i warily decided not to purchase it.

We stopped to sit so Sara could make a phone call, and enjoyed one of the best views of Paris i've seen so far–aside, perhaps, from the view from the central statue of the Louvre where you can see all the way through the Jardin des Tuileries to the Obelisque and up the Champs Élysées to the Arc de Triomphe. After this brief pause, we left the garden and walked down to and along the Seine for a short bit before catching a bus towards home.

Of course, the bus was horribly crowded and only became more so as we went on, so we got off after a very short ride and finished the rest of the journey on foot.

Once home, and with a glass of Vin d'Alsace Tokay Pinot Gris in my hand, i felt like listening to a little Jazz, and put on a Louis Armstrong/Duke Ellington CD and began drawing the maps from yesterday's journeys. Sara has since given me my own personal map, so i'll just mark my routes on it from here on out.

After a couple hours, Paulo showed up and we all hung out & talked for a bit. We were supposed to be going to their friend Michael's house for a farewell dinner (for him, since he's returning to Germany tomorrow), but he was still at work, so we had to wait longer than we expected. Paulo requested music, and Sara (loving sister that she is) suggested I play the lucifigous prick demo for them. All the explanations were made regarding the recording quality and overzealous use of vocal effects, but they seemed to not hate it (much to my surprise, considering the estimation i'd made of their probable musical tastes). Paulo's eventual comment later at dinner (which echoes the comments of others) was "it was not as bad as i expected." tee hee. I think he was mainly referring to the fact that he was expecting a more loud, heavy, satanic metal sort of sound.

Eventually, Michael called back and said he was finished and that we should proceed to his place. Andrew bowed out (at this point, it was probably 10 or 10:30) since he has to wake up at 5 to meet his family at the airport.

So Paulo, Sara, and I set out for the 17th Arrondisment and Michael's place. We walked part of the way (after taking the Metro) on the Rue de Levis, but i can't remember if that was the street Michael lived on or if it was something else. Rue de Levis stuck out for the obvious reasons.

At Michael's, i got to give my first bissous (french cheek kisses, for lack of a better description) to a stranger (his landlady) who was having dinner with us. I also at this point got introduced to some french dining customs. At the french dinner table, it is not the food that gets passed around, but the diner's plates. Whoever is closest to a particular dish is placed in charge of serving it. I think i made a minor error in etiquette when i served the dish i was in charge of to myself first, though no one but my sister mentioned it (and she only mentioned it by whispering to me "you have to serve everyone else too").

The dinner was pleasant, the food was excellent, and everyone made an effort to speak primarily in english for my benefit. I think, however, that Marie (the landlady) doesn't speak english, so the english talk was occasionally translated for her just as the occasional french was for me. Of course, the German that my sister and Michael were bandying about wasn't translated for anyone, but i'll just chalk that up to my sister's language geekiness.

With dinner, we had an initial glass of champagne, then two different Bordeaux towards the end and with desert. After dessert there was coffee. After coffee, Michael 2 (there were two Michaels present, both were Marie's lodgers) and Paulo convinced Michael to play a little on the piano, which he happily did until the neighbors complained. After that, it was nearly time to catch the last Metro back home.

We walked back down Levis and left Paulo, who was going to catch a Taxi home, at the Metro station Villiers. We rode to the end of the line (Port Dauphine) which is less than 1 block from Sara & Andrew's apartment. Tomorrow will be my first day alone in the city, since everyone has to work. I think I have the Metro figured out at this point, for the most part, but I'm still apprehensive about having to interact with people without a designated voice. We'll see if I manage to get anything to eat tomorrow on my own…

—

and there's day two. boy, when i "document experiences" i really don't fuck around, do i? i know there's not a lot of "impression" and "observation" in these things, these tended to be mainly me trying to get the facts of the day down before i forgot them. they're a bit… broken up seeming, i guess, jumping from one event to the next, mentioning things but glossing over them at the same time. my plan was (and is) to write a final entry basically telling how i felt about the whole thing, along with some of my other observations.

also, if you're reading this Wednesday night/Thursday morning, i plan to get some pictures (which i left at work this evening) online and linked in to certain parts in these entries as well. Then, of course, i'll do a general gallery that i'll hopefully get online by the end of the week or mid next-week. 11 rolls of film. gonna have to sift a bit.

** updated ** i've got some photos in the mix now. enjoy.

ok, i can't let this one pass without comment.

Hollywood's Bachelorettes

first off, i love how these online celebrity sites always use the worst possible photos of people when they're talking about how attractive they are. some of these pics are just utterly horrid. i know these people look better than this.

but my biggest beef with this list is… Cameron Diaz at number #25? come on. you're kidding, right? Cameron may not come in as number one among this "elite" group, but there's no way she's behind Jennifer Love Hewitt and Kirsten Dunst. hell, Cameron should be in the top 5, at least in my opinion.

and, Natalie Portman at number 11? somebody at e! or msn has gotten hold of some seriously good crack. Natalie comes dangerously close to knocking Cameron off the top of my wish list.

i really need to stop letting myself get sucked into things like this.

so, brian caught me at the Rud on friday and mentioned that he was going to Michigan on saturday. somehow, i'm not sure how, he managed to convince me that i should tag along with him, to go up there and meet Hey Mercedes and some of the various other indie-rock icons that would be in attendance.

so, after the Rud & the Backdoor on friday–a night of debauchery to be sure–we both managed to drag ourselves out of our respective houses and get out of town about three hours later than we'd originally intended. but no matter, suffice it to say, brian drives fast. but aside from the momentary shock of blowing past a cop somewhere around Toledo, the drive was pleasantly uneventful.

the show was good. I enjoyed most of the music, but let me tell you, you put 4 or 500 sweating indie-rock kids in a huge room with limited ventilation, and the atmosphere gets oppressive at best. by the end of Hey Mercedes set (the first we were able to see), i was entirely ready to head back out into the cold Michigan night for a smoke and some elbow room.
the second band i saw was called "!!!" (which i think means "pretentious jam-band" in japanese). honestly, i enjoyed their music, and they seem to be very talented musicians, but basically all their songs just sounded like extended jams. perhaps there was structure there and i was just not in the mood for "party music", or perhaps the fact that the lead singer was pretty much a complete dick factors into my distaste. needless to say, i didn't stick around for the whole set.

let's see… then we saw a band whose name i can't remember, but it was two or three fat guys (one of whom unfortunately removed his shirt halfway through the performance) and a normal guy. They played some hard-rocking punk music and were really pretty good.

final band we watched was coalesce (see brian's pics, linked in his post.) who put on a good show. my tastes generally don't lean that far towards hardcore punk, or vocalists who scream more than sing, but they really tore it up onstage and i enjoyed it.

after the show we made the rounds again and hooked up with the Mercedes and Coalesce boys, headed out to the hotel, grabbed ourselves a room, and hung out with a bunch of people i'd never met before in my life. i pretty much felt like an outsider the whole night, but Sean helped make us feel welcome when we went out to grab some late night dinner at a place called Coney Island.

After that we were pretty much beat from our long day on the road and at a show (after a night of too-much drinking), and called it a night.
The next day's drive was again, thankfully uneventful and we made it home only about 45 minutes later than we'd intended (after stopping for an hour lunch at Denny's).

exciting stuff, eh?

yeah, i know.

anyway, in other news, there's not much other news.

the prick's demo is almost ready for public consumption, so hopefully, if i can remember to take some damned CD-Rs with me to practice tomorrow, i'll be able to upload at least one track for you to enjoy and comment on.

that's it. i'm out.

so, what have i been up to the past couple weeks…

well, amazingly enough, i've been planning for a trip to france to visit my sister (who hasn't updated her blog in quite a while…). i've finally managed to drag out the Berlitz "Basic French" cassette learning program i bought on remainder at Hawley-Cooke a couple years ago, and i've been listening to them regularly for the past two weeks or so. the first week, i think i probably heard four times as many words in french than i heard in english. now, my big project is digitizing the four tapes in the program and making MP3s out of them, so i can take them to work and listen without having to drag a cassette player and headphones everywhere i go. of course, i've primarily been just listening and figuring out the sound of french. i haven't gotten into the writing or vocabulary study yet. so, if anyone gets the bright idea to write me an email in french… i'm not quite ready for that yet. but hopefully, by the time July rolls around, i'll have at least a passable knowledge of the language. i may look like a fool in france, but at least i'll look like a fool who's trying to be polite.

i also finally finished the Lord of the Rings trilogy, which i kicked off with "The Hobbit" back during christmas at my grandmother's, and i just cracked open the introduction to "The Iliad."

i've been hanging out with brian quite a bit more recently, which i enjoy. we've actually been throwing around some ideas for a screenplay, since we have a commitment from a friend of ours to "shoot whatever" we write. of course, then we also had a conversation with another person a "playwright" apparently, who was asking us all kinds of questions about sub-stories, and plot-driving stories and all that jazz. this is something i'm rather torn on. i can't say that i've ever consciously tried to write anything using sub-stories, but have relied more on the primary story and the characters themselves to drive the plots… such as they were. anyway, i think we've come up with some good ideas, now we just need to corral them into a story.

my band and i have finally buckled down and gotten a digital recorder–rent-to-own style. after talking with some knowledgeable friends, i'm more satisfied that we made a good choice picking up the one we did (being the only one presented to us and immediately available) and that we'll not regret the (ongoing) purchase. hopefully, it'll allow us to finally make a decent recording and get some demos out to whomever the hell it is that books shows around these parts. also, it's entirely conceivable that i might throw a couple tracks on the site (probably once we get to the permanent server) so that anyone with a healthy masochistic bent can listen to "the prick" all they want. also hopefully, it'll allow us to get some gigs and actually start playing out. if we get really lucky, maybe we'll get Old Man (paul's band) to let us play with them (or vice versa).

ok. y'know what? it's late, and my boss bitched me out this morning for being late, so i'd better close this up and get my irresponsible ass to bed.

au revoir! a bientot!

well, this past weekend was actually pretty fun altogether. friday was the usual getting off work and chilling out, then heading up to the backdoor for drinks and hanging out. nothing really crazy happened, but that's just as well as far as i'm concerned.

on saturday, me, the boys, and our friends pat, nicole, and neil, and brax's gf amanda all met up at ZA's for dinner. we hung out, chatted, laughed, and generally had a good time… and, of course, a good meal (except paul, who'd spoiled his appetite by eating about three hours prior… he just had a salad). after that, we all headed up to the rud to see quasi-local (ok, Richmond, KY) band South 75 and non-local band Gaza Strippers. Local band the Glasspack closed the show, but we didn't bother hanging around. all in all, it was a good show, with South 75 pumping out some good classic-rock sounding tunes and pointing at the ceiling a lot. Gaza Strippers came out and put on an exceptional show as usual, their frontman as dynamic and expressive as any you could ever wish for. the Gaza Strippers play unapologetic full-on rock-n-roll, with no fruity twists or hypnotically repetitious stoner-rock "grooves." if you were to ask for the Gaza Strippers at a bar, all you'd have to say is "rock-n-roll, neat." and there ya go.

sunday found me being rudely (… well, ok… politely… ) awakened by my car-less roommate two or three hours before i had any intention of getting up (i.e. around 11:30am) to give him a ride to work all the way across town. since i was already up and about, i figured i'd take the time to get some christmas shopping done, and y'know what i came back with… ? zilch, nothing, nada. at least as far as real presents are concerned… i ended up spending a veritable ass-load of money on silly little stocking stuffers and other little "token" gifts for various people. but… not a damn thing of real value gift-giving wise. am i just unimaginative, am i just looking in the wrong places, or has our culture become so… insubstantial… that no one is making things that i can look at and say… "now that! that would make a great gift!" unfortunately, even i'm leaning toward the "i'm unimaginative" side of that one.

well, hopefully, i'll get a brilliant flash of inspiration in about 5 days and will make a mad dash to all the stores that have just what i'm looking for. i hate, HATE living in the midst of this consumer culture of ours. giving i've got no problem with, it's the damned shopping i can't stand. shopping malls? havens of vanity and vapidity. strip malls? same thing, only with no shoes and more of a backwoodsman's gleam in the eye. mom & pop shops? … right.

damn them all and their little green strips of paper. i want my replicator and i want it now!

well i'm back from the visit with the fam. to answer brian's hope that i enjoyed myself, i'll just have to say that my soul enjoyed the trip, my brain was a bit impartial, and my body is really really pissed off at me.

i've come to realize over the years that i have very very little in common with the majority of my family except genetics. this thanksgiving didn't make that whole thing any easier, since the majority of the extended family that showed up were the ones who don't normally come for the yearly Christmas festivities, so it's been years since i've seen most of these people for any extended period of time. i didn't even recognize one of my cousins. to top it all off, of course, i'm generally an anti-social person, not good in situations where i'm surrounded by lots of people. so i pretty much just went down to the basement as soon as i got there, and stayed there for the majority of the visit. so, while i think it was good for my soul to be surrounded by family and people who love me even though they don't know me, and it was good for my soul to be able to see my grandmother again and to crack jokes with her, i think my brain was fairly impartial about the whole affair, just kind of doing what it knows needs to be done, but not seeing any rational inherent benefit in it. maybe i'm still stuck in kid mode within the family unit… no kids, no wife, not even a girlfriend has ever been brought for a visit with me. so i sit downstairs with my 14 year old brother playing computer games, reading the week's comic books, never hanging out with the "adults" except when they call us to dinner…

ok. well. that line of reasoning is going to lead somewhere i don't want to go right now, with you. i think i can successfully avoid the "gorge of eternal peril" for a while yet. though i'm sure you armchair psychologists can name the tune i was singing in three notes.

as far as my body being really really pissed at me after this trip, well, on Friday, my dad, my little brother, a 2nd cousin, and i all went for a hike up a mountain—a 10 mile hike up a mountain. we're talking about a mountain where you look down from the edge of the trail (that's just looped back around) and you see the part of the trail you just came from 50 feet directly below you, not at some angle away from you, but directly freakin below you. and you've maybe gone 100 steps. ok, so we're not talking scaling the face of some cliff or anything, but this mother was steep. when you consider the fact that for almost the past two years, i've been sitting in front of a computer for 8 hours a day, then coming home and sitting in front of the computer for a few more hours, basically never getting any form of exercising, and smoking until my lungs are ready to spontaneously combust… well, it was hellacious. luckily, i think my body adjusted after the first 30 mintues or so, and my breathing was heavy but steady. we made it to the top of the mountain and were treated with a wonderful view of the valley below, all the little farm-houses spread out, and the horizon as distant as any i've ever seen. we got some pictures of the view from the lookout point, hopefully they'll turn out decent and i'll throw 'em online here for you guys to check out.

our main purpose for the trek was a visit to hensley settlement where my dad told us they measured the corn harvest not in bushels per acre, but in gallons per acre. the settlement was peaceful and antiquated. my dad took great pleasure in pointing out where things were not quite as they should be "these fences would have been made from cherry" i believe was one comment he made. and my dad would know. when he grew up, things were still being done the old ways. he grew up in the mountains of virginia himself, away from most of the modern conveniences.

ah. well. i gotta run now, perhaps i'll finish this story later. needless to say, this was one time where my dad talked quite a bit. and by the time we got off the mountain, i was barely able to move well enough to drive us home. it was quite an experience, and one that i'm still paying for.