Friday Night!!!

What does it say about the peeps on Friendster that the server has never been busier than on Friday night? What does it say about me that I’m trying to get on it on Friday night? I’m watching the Suns game with my Dad, alright? My laptop’s on my lap and I’m multitasking. Back off.
Steve Nash is tearing it up, as per usual. I wish we’d traded that other point guard all those years ago instead of him. You know, the bald, wife-beater. Harsh. Nash came into his own with the Mavs and now he’s going to lead this team straight to the playoffs. Deep into the playoffs. That’s as bold a prediction that I’m willing to make. It’s a good year to be a Suns fan.
I finished watching the television series, Freaks and Geeks last night at approximately 2:30a.m. I got the DVD’s through Netflix (heart, smile) receiving the final disc of 3 episodes yesterday. I was just going to watch one before going to bed, but I couldn’t stop. That’s how good it is. The characters are terrific. They’re funny, unique and believable and the stories are the truest I’ve seen in regards to high school life. It’s really a shame that they had to cancel it, but at the same time, it ended in a very nice way. I would be interested in seeing shows that are only created to last a season or two. It certainly worked for the BBC with The Office. Twin Peaks should have probably ended after we found out who killed Laura Palmer.
Television offers a more in depth way to tell a story than a film does. You have extra time to get to know the characters, which means you’re more invested in them and the story’s impact increases exponentially. It matters more. I’m referring to the shows that have a season-long story arc. Those are typically, in my humble opinion, the only ones worth watching. And sometimes the story worth telling only lasts a single season.
I was going to go to the (Smog) concert tonight, but with no one to go with, a kitchen to demolish and rebuild in Dewey, AZ tomorrow, the second and final Wilco show of the year tomorrow night, and the Suns neck and neck with the Lakers (Grrrrr, Lakers), I don’t think I’m going anywhere. Go Suns!

Time To Buckle Down and Loosen The Belt

I decided that it's time to get serious, get down to business, focus on what's important. The annual Thanksgiving training regimen has begun. It's rigorous, but in the long run well worth the pain. pain I'm feeling right now. I just made enough pasta to feed 2.3 people, ate it all, and am now sitting in my favorite recliner watching the second to last episode of Buffy. Times are hard but I have my eyes set on the brass ring and that's what keeps me going. That and the satisfaction I'm going to feel after my next BM. Gross and oh so true.

Ghosts of Glendale

I’ve been attempting to find some redeeming qualities in my present surroundings, but a recent letter from my sister has started me thinking that my redemption lies elsewhere. Glendale is a boring place. And in case you were wondering that’s the Glendale in AZ not the one in CO, ID, DE, KS, NY, etc. etc. etc. A town called Glendale can be found in 36 of our 50 states. Boring. It is far too sterile for me, like the inside of some giant, redundant machine, chugging away redundantly for no reason at all.

The streets bleed into sidewalks, sidewalks into parking lots, and the parking lots into buildings that are all starting to look the same. There are some planted things here and there but they are so contrived one can scarcely believe they are real.

My sister’s letter touched on self-respect in relation to how we have a tendency to reflect our environments. We, as humans, need input that provides us with interest and challenge to help us understand where we fit in this world, which leads to the creation of substantial and meaningful output.
There is no life or culture in this setting for us to reflect so very little of any worth gets created. You barely even see other people here and when you do it’s usually through the tinted glass of big new cars, like a ghost’s reflection in a mirror.

Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary.

I tried going where people gather here, meccas of consumerism known as shopping malls, and while I get a momentary fix, it too becomes illusory. Shadow people trying to fill their void with things they saw on TV and in magazines but it will never be enough.

I miss walking through a metropolis, teeming with life, filling up with stimulation for the senses. Things are too spread out here, spread too thin. People have to drive to get anywhere they think might be worth going and end up isolated and unconnected. Walks here are down empty sidewalks, along busy streets or boring neighborhoods. I can’t trust a place you can’t explore by foot.

This is a land of isolation and while isolation has its place, for me it is only comforting once the sun goes down and I can wrap myself in the darkness. A drive through Phoenix at night is the closest I can get to the freedom of space. Everything is open and clear, the lights of the city like a reflection of the stars, and me just floating through with the windows down and the radio on. It’s lovely, but it’s not enough. Bloody Marys can help. The drink, not the scary ghost lady… standing right behind you!

Animal Suicide

I was driving down an interstate in the middle of Phoenix, huge concrete walls on both sides, and a dead cat right in the middle of the road. How did it get there? It must have taken some serious effort. A drop from either wall would have killed or crippled the thing and even then, I’ve never known a cat to jump off something it didn’t have a way back up on, and I don’t think that cats really lose their balance in situations like that either. So I started thinking. Do animals commit suicide? Then I started thinking about all of the animals that I’ve seen pancaked in roads or darting across them at the last possible instant. I’ve even seen birds fly directly into oncoming traffic. There must be something to it. I realize that for a lot of them there must be some kind of daredevil aspect to it, but still, isn’t even that a way of tasting death?

I have to admit though, sometimes I find myself thinking about suicide. That sounds bad. Don’t worry friends, I don’t think about actually doing it, I think about what it must take to do it. There has to be something kind of empowering about it, taking that kind of thing into your own hands, deciding your own fate. How many people get to choose how and when they get to die? And if you are at a place in your life where you don’t feel like there’s anywhere else to go but pain and misery, then why not? I know of too many people who suffered their last days, months and sometimes years on this Earth and for what?

Many cultures (largely if not entirely Eastern cultures) see death as a part of life and nothing to fear. Isn’t that better than being afraid, or worse still, denying the fact that it will happen to you at all and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it?

The argument against it would be the question, “How do you know it wouldn’t get better if you just held on a little bit longer?” But isn’t that like the person who stays at the party too long because he doesn’t want to miss anything and winds up unwanted and passed out in his own excrement. I just think that at some point a person must realize that it’s over. They made their stand and while they may have a few regrets, they did the best that they knew how to do and it’s time to go. It might even be exciting. To die would be a great adventure. I think I stole that line from Hook.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not advocating suicide, I’m just questioning it. I think there is a terrible stigma about it in our culture and I question that. It is a personal freedom and one that many would not agree with, but most people are afraid to die (second only to public speaking) while they think suicide is spineless which seems like a paradox to me. It might be the bravest thing a person can do and that being said, I’m not sure I could ever do it. Plenty of people I respect have done it though, so I do find it very difficult to cross it off as the act of a coward. I just wish I could understand it a little better.
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
My next post will be lighter. I promise.

Denver. Wilco. Good.

I finally found myself in Denver, Colorado over the weekend and it made me wonder what in the hell took me so long. I guess it’s just one of those places that you don’t really go to unless you’re a skier or you have someone there to visit. My trek was a result of the latter. EWF is going to school there so Catfish and I ventured out to say hello and see a show.
I hadn’t seen Wilco since ’95 or ’96, I can’t remember which, and I didn’t even like them then. I tried to see them in Tucson back in spring, but rehab got in the way. Jeff Tweedy’s, not mine.
I had flown in from Chicago for that show, so it’s nice to know that me flying long distances to see his band has nothing to do with his drug problems. The Denver show went off without a hitch. It was an amazing show. Song after song after song. I love absolutely everything they’ve done, which is pretty amazing for any band, especially with my exclusive and uppity tastes. I can’t wait to see them again in Phoenix.
But back to Denver. What can I say about Denver? It is simply a wonderful town. They have arts, sports and one of the largest playgrounds in the world a.k.a. The Rocky Mountains. It’s no wonder everyone’s so damn friendly there. I love the West.

And next... Batman in pumps

I’ve been frequenting the Glendale Public Library of late and have been overwhelmingly pleased with the selection they offer, particularly in regards to the graphic novel collection. They have a bunch of the Marvel’s Essentials, Alan Moore’s Swamp Thing, Jeff Smith’s Bone, etc. etc. All kinds of good stuff.
The one thing that irks me though, is that someone has decided certain elements in these books are best left unseen. Someone has meticulously gone through each and every book to magic marker out all of the particularly provocative curves. Mostly it’s the ladies. Busts are covered, crotches are covered. Whoever did it generally took the time to make their markings look like tank tops and miniskirts, which is the kind of thoughtful censorship that I like.
It doesn’t stop with the ladies though. The curve of the man-crotch has been deemed unacceptable too. Superman looks kind of funny in a tight black miniskirt. It’s good to know that while suggestive curves and lumps are improper, cross-dressing is A-OK.

Four More Years of Fear

I’ve been struggling all day with my thoughts on the election. I started by feeling completely defeated, personally defeated, like I was the one who was running and I was the one who lost. Anger came next along with the names of Canadian cities in which I could tolerate the cold long enough to set up permanent residence. There was also sadness, ambivalence (for but a moment) and a more violent version of the previous incarnation of anger. Above all though is confusion. I simply don’t understand how this could happen. I don’t understand how a nation founded and fought for with such bravery, such courage could be defeated by such fear. We as a nation have allowed our own President to scare us into submission. The war on terror is a war on us.

And it would have been a lot worse too if it wasn’t for everyday people who had already had enough. MoveOn is the prime example but not the only one. Grassroots baby. It is a beginning and one that I only hope will snowball into the discovery of a candidate of who we can truly be proud to stand up and support.

Out of all the emotions that I lived through today, I think that my genuine love and appreciation for this country has finally prevailed and now I am choosing to see this defeat as an opportunity. Bush cannot make things any better. He will make them worse and apparently that is the only way people will start to open their eyes. Kerry might have been a better choice but that doesn’t mean he was a good one. It occurs to me that I never wanted Kerry to get elected. I wanted Bush out and that was all. I know I’m not alone. That way of thinking will never lead to a true victory. I am tired of settling. How long will it take? I don’t know. All I know is that it has too. Canada’s too cold.