The Value of Art

The only real value of art is decoration.

Not Voting

Not voting is a valid political response to a lack of valid choices.

Social Security

Yesterday I got my Social Security statement in the mail. I particularly enjoyed how for every dollar that is automatically deducted from my paycheck at the time of my retirement at age 67 I can expect to receive 73 cents in return. 73 per dollar which inflation will render useless. I really wish there were other retirement plan options besides bankrupted social security.

Rebekah and I worked on a song last night. It was a nice little acoustic number with violin (synth-violin) flourishes and a temporary bossa nova beat. The Owls have totally got me into acoustic guitar again. When I recorded Emily & Jessica I was downed the acoustic guitar but on second listen it works better than electric. But not now. Not now

27

I've really been down since last night when it occured to me that I am 27 years old. That may sound silly but I kind of repress the notion of my age in attempt to cover the pain. However for some reason I was thinking about the marathon and how it would be cool that I ran 26 miles while being 26. Then I realised that I wasn't 26, but 27. Furthermore, I realised that when I run the race I won't even be 27, but 28. So this was a downward spiral of self-hate.

I'm frustrated with my grocery store. Yesterday I was craving pasta and had this really great recipe for a dish only to go shopping and the store didn't have key ingredients. So I ended up grabbing a jar of spaghetti sauce and some noodles. Not very good. Especially when I was wanting a cream sauce with sun dried tomatoes and pancetta bacon.

I'm frustrated with everything right now. The only bright spot is pop music.

I'm sorry this is all venom and vile. Hopefully I'll have something positive for next time.

One Mile

One mile.

Today I managed to haul myself out of bed and renew my running routine. I expected the worse. I expected that I would set out and it would be like starting all over again. I expected that I would be huffing and puffing my the end of the block. My expectations were wrong.

For the first time I ever I ran a mile straight through without having to drop to the occasional walk to catch my breath or rest. When I started running that was my goal. So I feel really good about that.

The plan now is to spend August running 4 days a week, 3 miles a day (total 12 miles a week). The goal is to get where I can run the three miles without stopping, even if I'm at a slow pace.

September I start my marathon training. My sister sent me a book The Non Runner's Marathon Trainer. I started reading it last night to try to gain some motivation and found that it was actually a pretty good book that fit my goals. That is to simply finish the race no matter what place that finish is in. My race is January 9, 2005.

So that is one month of warm up and four months training and then death before dishonor. Rah! Bring on the carbs!

DC

It's Sunday and it took long enough but I finally got that warm, fuzzy District Convention feeling. (BTW, I'm probably going to talk at liberty about program so if you haven't been and want to be surprised skip this.) So it happened, you are sitting around and looking at everybody and you think, "Wow, this is worth it." The DC always sets the bar so high. The best polished examples are paraded about. Perhaps unattainable but even if you can't get there hopefully you improve somewhat in the effort.

It was interesting just how much focus was spent on the foreign language aspect of our ministry. Our religion has always had a multilingual thrust but now it has come home. The US is the second biggest spanish speaking group of Witnesses. So many of the new congregations being formed are spanish. Not to mention the other languages that are in our territory.

The drama was really good in that b-movie sort of way. It was corny; but, entertaining. You learn new stuff. Like when you heal somebody with holy spirit it makes the same "twinkle" sound as when Samantha from Bewitched works her magic. But nothing beat the exorcist girl. She slid onto the stage like night of the living dead and then demon voice called out like some cheesy horror flick. I nearly fell out of my seat I was so beside myself with surprise and delight. Another funny moment was when Paul pulled out a new put down that I'll have to use, "You son of a devil."

I was also happy that they slammed all this carb counting nonsense.

Saturday night we went to the see the Owls play. It was in this tiny little bar that seemed to have a lot of greaser/rockabilly types hanging about. The Owls were great. Allison sounded like Jenny Toomey. Bryan sounded like Davy Jones. All together they were a much improved version of Call and Response. Beautiful music and great friendly people. And even though we didn't wear our badge cards Rebekah did a little informal witnessing with the band. So going to see a concert on district convention weekend wasn't a total religious copout.

Today Bill and Cindy came for a makeup day and we went out to eat with them. They are just so enjoyable and really good people.

Tomorrow is . . . work.

The Invention of the Century

So I was pretty down but then I read the most wonderful news ever. That's right Krispy Kreme has unveiled a glazed donut drink. Incredible. Forget what I said about the space elevator, iPod, and Segway. Hands down, this is THE invention of the century.
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Also, all of my dad's organ donors fell through so now he goes on the transplant list. And I'm really at a loss as to whether or not I should offer mine. It's not cut and dry and pretty complicated. When he had all his brothers and sisters offering it was good because that relieved me of any presumed responsability. Now that those won't work out I'm left holding the bag. I wish I knew my blood type. 'Cause if it isn't O then I don't have to worry. If I do have O then I have a pretty rough decision to make. The weird part is that I would rather be an anonymous donor. My relationship with my father is pretty -strange- so I'd feel really queer about offering. I dunno. I probably wouldn't pass the physco profiling anyway.
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I caught a whiff of chlorine and really wanted to go swimming.

Hair

It's the hottest week of the year and Murphy's Law has rendered our car A/C down for the count. We've ordered o-rings to fix it but the $20,000 question is will they be delivered in time for the District Convention. I guess not. We will be melting in the sun while we wait the hour to get out of the parking lot at the end of each day. Misery. So if you see me sneaking out during the concluding song and prayer please note that I'm not a bad guy ---> I'm just a poor soul without AC wanting to get a jump on the parking situation.

Work has been dragging to match the rest of my life. The summer is flying by at the same time that my life has got me in a wheel. I'm going through the motions. The good is that I've finally got the backup software and tape drives working. I just have to remember to switch out the tapes every morning. The bad is that I've haven't been able to wake up to run.

I have a hair appointment tonight. It was kind of forced upon by the aforementioned DC. I prewarned the beautician that she had better book some time to work with me. She asked did I have an inch and a half of growth? I said expect the worse. You see, I was trying to be a rock star and the results are disasterous.

The bad thing about where I get my hair cut: It's really, simply just a matter of convienence. It's so easy, just a couple blocks from house but they only know how to give hoosier hair cuts. "Ask about our mullet specials!". It's really that bad. So bad that the gay hair stylist had to leave. But I keep on going there because I'm too lazy to find something out. Forever stuck in a rut.

"That's the story of my life, listen close I'll tell it twice

Dogge

And even now I have mixed feelings for the first ten years of my life. I am naturally sickened that these were spent at the end of menancing chain and I feel a natural revulsion as I remember eating rancid scraps off a dirt floor while being kicked and choked. But I also feel blessed, and I say this with no massochism. Any child born, especially back then, was fortunate to see their first birthday and I saw ten. Ten years. And that is where the mixed feelings come in. Because, as I see it, even life at its most rotten and horrible, is still life. A year spent living as a dogge is still a year spent.

I spent ten years being groomed. No, not brushed and powdered and tied with a bow because I knew of no such kindness or luxory. I spent ten years being trained. I was not taught any tricks or shown how to drag a fox out of hole. I was being shaped and molded because bigger things were to be thrown at me. The random spinnings would propel me toward the real revelation.

Log Rolling

I have a new hero, Darren Hudson from Nova Scotia. I watched him kick, spin, and balance his way to the silver medal in the ESPN Great Outdoor Games log rolling competition this weekend. Darren won me over because he was just so hyped up on log-rolling, "this is the most perfect sport ever" he proclaimed without any hint of irony. He comes from a long line of log rollers and believes that his family "indwells [sic] within him the spirit of the game". When he wasn't rolling or talking he was bouncing around on the platform, somewhere between ADD and strung out on cocaine. If log-rolling ever becomes a huge sport, Darren will be the first to land a Nike contract.

The ESPN GO games was an iteresting Sunday diversion while we were up in Madison, WI. I enjoyed it more than I thought I would, and almost as much as my Chipoltle burrito. While I share no dream that I'll ever see lumberjack sports in the St. Louis, I still have my fingers crossed that a Chipoltle francise will move in.

magarita

The paper cut on my pinky is killing me and this week is dragging on. Nothing like a coming off of a three-day weekend and struggling with the shortened work week. But I just ordered a pair of shoes so I'm perfectly positive Rebekah will be kicking my butt when I get I home -- hard. I was just simply inspired by a gift my sister got me (and there is nothing like throwing away money to raise one's spirits for at least an hour or two.) We are going to Madison, WI this weekend to eat cheese curds and watch lumberjacks toss logs and maybe (hopefully) drink some margaritas. My Friday ritual is fajitas and a margarita so big I could drown in it. My new hair got me some pretty cross looks at the Hall last night. It's still at the awkward growing out phase until I can get it cut right and proper. I really don't know what I want to do with up but I'm can say that I'm so unbelievably done with the late 90's "Friends" look but I'm not quite sold on the unkempt indie look. And I've been spending quality time with my daughter. We have this new game called "hooding" where she tries to suffocate me by draping a blanket on my head and sitting it while I try to watch TV. I'm raising a killer.

Wiggle Your Toe

Last night we had some pretty bad storms right at sunset. When it was happening the sky was glowing bright orange and being lit by multiple lightnings. It was cool to say the least.

I'm pretty enamored by Loretta Lynn's album Van Lear Rose. In case you haven't heard about it, it was produced by Jack White from the White Stripes - an interesting selling point. Rebekah dismisses it as too country but I'm really digging it. It seems to me to be punk-country. It has all the elements of good old country but with a dirty DIY, spitting and kicking spirit to it. My favorite song is Portland, Oregon, a duet sung by Loretta and Jack. The first line of the song goes, "Well Portland, Oregon and slow gin fizz, if that ain't love then tell me what is. uh-huh."

I saw Spider-Man 2. It had its entertaining moments, mainly the fight scenes and every scene where Peter Parker was being humiliated and kicked around. The movie suffered from the cheesy comic-book dialog. "Go get 'em Tiger" may be OK on a comic page but on screen it is a real groaner. And the popcorn sucked miserably.

I've actually made a good start on my second novel. I'm making it a point not to get too hung up on details. At the time I'm really just painting in broad strokes until I can flesh it out later. The amount of research needed is staggering. For instance which dog breeds were popular in England in the 1800's? Which were rare? Which were not around? But it's all coming together in my head nicely. It's nothing new. More of a reworking of various sources with my own slant thrown in to make it original or at least different.

And I can't help but to ask myself, "What's next?" After I write this novel, "What's Next?" I'm kicking around the idea of the ante-diluvian sci-fi novel. But that may be treading on too sacred of ground. First things first.

Now wiggle your toe.

Three Day

The past few days I've been dreaming of Stuart from Belle and Sebastian. Last night we exchanged religious literature.

I've decided to take the three day weekend and just stay home. With my increased work hours I need the time to just get caught up around the house and relax. That being said I need to avoid video games like a virus.

I've been having the most wonderful ideas about my next novel. It's all coming together in my head masterfully. I don't think it's at all cocky, but I know it will be so good. And I'm excited. It's a big sweeping historical novel told from an usual perspective. It's Dickens. It's Chaucer. It's Pepys.