Parenthetical miscellany

Caption unavailable—but I don't think this is called cross stitch

Few clicks of the shutter today. What was taken, was for another outlet (work). And to that end, it was a good day, with productive ideation and the arrival of some schwag (not the kind you smoke).

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Since it was the end of the month, I stripped my cable down to basic channels and high speed net after a lengthy bit of time on hold (and more than a few hoops).

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Swirling emotions, likely a result of what’s going on around the country and world, creep in when I don't occupy myself enough...

Feeling a bit like I'm not doing anything to be helpful in general. That’s where the photo above (taken last week) feels somewhat appropriate with its simple message.

It's a good start, I figure.

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I finally think I have a handle on parentheses (A period is used within the marks if a complete sentence is formed.) This isn't news to me, but it most certainly is a refresher.

My mom, the florist

Creating an arrangement

After a tasty meal of corn on the cob, bar-b-que chicken, broccoli, and baked potato at my mom’s, I went up to check my weight on the scale in the bathroom. Not something I normally do, but since my pants fell off earlier, I was concerned I might be losing too much weight.

I'm the same. I think I just need to do laundry more often to keep that tight fit.

As we caught up on things, I remarked how nice the flowers in her bathroom looked. And as I made motion to leave and tend to chores, she slipped outside and filled up a vase to take along.

My car had the best aroma driving back from the laundromat, earthy smells—not at all perfumey. Totally covered up the heavy odor of detergent and dryer sheets leaking through the trunk.

Rain

and more rain

The remnants of Katrina descended on (or is that upon?) Cincinnati, and continues to fall steadily. I'd not be surprised if we see some flooding from the downpour.

Though it wasn't the best evening to drive around and lug heavy things, I sorely needed to do laundry. My last pair of shorts were starting to hang a little too urban for my age bracket.

Leaving the house this evening I'm carrying two large laundry bags and standing in ankle deep water in my alleyway trying to lock the door. My pants and boxers fell down completely. I suppose I am very lucky that this was the only casualty.

The evening got better though, with dinner at my mom's place.

Off the chain

A rant

It began to sink in last night, when I was watching the MTV Video Music Awards... A show I don't invest too much into, but I had a tinge of hope that something amusing or remotely interesting would happen.

It didn't. I turned it off after Eric Roberts talked about heck-knows-what and I realized I hadn't seen any of the horrible videos nominated.

Tonight I was flipping through the channels and everything just seemed played out.
Lip-synched.
Scripted.
False.
Pimped beyond recognition.

A long time ago, it was MTV that was a big part of my desire to get cable. And now, some decades later, I think it's the reason why I want to get rid of it.

I blame a good chunk of today's offerings on The Real World, and the foray into reality that oddly enough, I cannot relate to. The subsequent infusion of has-been stars cannot elevate this to entertainment. No amount play on the industry or the eating of caterpillar guts is going to make me want to tune in.

Add to this mix the shallowness of fame and the manipulation of media (Hi Paris, I'm sad I know your name), and it's about time I think about getting rid of all these channels. These are feeds I really wouldn't subscribe to...

Perhaps this is some in-between season disdain. Maybe I'm still sad Six Feet Under is over (and it is likely a show that is better in my mind than it actually was).

I dunno.

I still want my high-speed internet, I think.

Super 8

Cost: $55.00

At a motel on the outskirts of Chicago, HBO is free. There is no alarm clock and the box spring has questionable stains.

It was a fine enough place to stay within spittin’ distance from a rodeo, but to make it fancy—staying at the event's official hotel might make economical sense, and parking sense.

Or not. I've heard said, it all looks the same in the dark.

More photos later.

Another day goes by and I am not arrested

Of course, I'm probably jinxing myself now.

Also another day where I essentially took one photo, and put the camera away, tending to other things.

Not much to report.

(insert something funny, something tragic, then something lame)

Swissy

Shirt by Veer, next to medicine cabinet

When the three bears rolled through Cincy a while back, they came bearing gifts.

The first was a Ziploc bag of Kevin's beard. He once said he wouldn't cut it until I would visit St. Louis... After I kept getting sidetracked, he couldn't take it anymore and gave in to a big trim.

I suppose the next time my mom makes homemade paper, I'll throw his follicles in the blender and give it back in some other fashion.

The second gift is perfectly suited as I've often been asked to describe my graphic style and always reply, "Swiss Anal," a brief period that came after Bauhaus.

I needed more red in my wardrobe and it will be cherished. (Detail of shirt)

Six Feet Under

You can't take a picture of this. It's already gone.

I'm thinking, the hardest thing is to know when it's time to move on... and let things go. A heavy thought I don't normally glean from the tube.

This last season of Six Feet Under has been a fast paced, cram-it-all-in, drama fest. On top of that, it seemed that most of the characters were going untreated from what WrongDiagnosis would lump into the schizophrenia, psychosis, depression or drowsiness columns. But I still watched, as religiously as I needed to with the modern marvels of digital video recorders.

All that aside, the last episode was right up there with the ending for M*A*S*H. They managed to touch upon what it means to be a family, finding closure and hope, gay marriage, and how senseless (the current) war is...

In this age of reality TV, I thank HBO for raising (or is that maintaining?) the bar on entertainment. I wish it could trickle down to the dinosaur networks.

As hard as it is to let something go, the creators of this show let it end with no questions—and plenty of grace.

(filed under movies because I've not a TV category)

Broken Flowers

If the movie had as much expression as this poster on the marquee...

This movie is a lot like Groundhog Day, but without the overt comedy and magic that a man could in fact, live a day over and over until he got it right.

The repetition is still there, as is the lead actor. Is it Bill Murray’s best? No, that would be Caddyshack or Meatballs—everyone knows that.

You know, there could be a heap of symbolism oozing from this flick, but I didn't get the Cliffs Notes with my nine dollar ticket.

I laughed when the credits rolled and was (very) glad to leave the theater.

Go see it if you need a dose of numb reality and some leg cramps.

Glazing over

Strummers

Often I lament not being able to play an instrument.

I was in choir through high school (no jazz hands, thank you very much) which gave me the insight to read music, but that's the extent of my musical ability.

Well, my mom had a dulcimer I picked at during my youth, and we had one of those double-tiered organs with the bossa nova buttons. At my most engaged I was picking out songs from the Liberace and Anne Murray songbooks with one finger.

Today, I met up with a friend at the guitar store and I was sort've bowled over. So many tuners, cords, amps, and other paraphernalia—with prices that ranged from reasonable to (insert jawdrop). Maybe it's best that not everywhere is a candy store and practicing restraint is entirely possible.

When is that screen printing set-up going to be finished?

The wash out station

Soon. So very soon.

There was one unexpected piece of the puzzle that required professional intervention—exhaust ductwork for the drying station—essentially, a big oven with a belt that sets the ink at a high temperature.

So that was installed just this week and all of a sudden we realized a better system for printing transparencies was in order. Instead of traditional direct emulsion, we're going with capillary film. This rolls on like wet wallpaper to the screen and produces a very consistent surface for burning the image for printing. Heavy ink on transparencies is required though, so what we've used previously—a laser printer—might produce lackluster results.

The next post on this topic will yield some tangible result.

Warning

Unrelated to the post below

That neat little to-do list I had carved out in my mind on the plane ride home got shuffled into a whole new list that erupted once I got back in contact with everyone. Now I sift.

In lieu of real content, here's some links.

Quotes from when Clinton committed troops to Bosnia - I'll just assume all these are real. It's too ridiculous to be anything but.

Roger von Oech's Creative Think, with front page refreshable tips to shake up ideas - I always enjoyed his books back in the day. Good to see this content survive beyond the man.

Flipping off Hummers - A really, really, really large gallery. Maybe this fueled Claire Fisher's (excellent) diatribe last week.

FUCK this website - Dig into this one. It's beautiful genius. I need some stickers.

Brandon Bird - Apparently this made the Webby Awards, but there's too many sites to visit anymore. Anyways, he's an amazing artist with a keen, twisted pop culture sense of humor.

Oh, I'm not keeping up with your blog, and I'm not putting stuff on my cat either.

The tail end of California

Right photo by Brent (for scale)

Back in Ohio after a long day of travel yesterday, and I still feel like I'm on Pacific Daylight Time.

Inevitably, trips have little fragments that escape recollection. Between the piles of things that stack up while away, my mind occasionally lapses to something I forgot.

The last day started with green eggs and ham (really). Then we loaded up backpacks for a hike down to the Yuba River. I escaped injury as determined by scale that ended with "recipe for disaster."

Some random thoughts from the week:

• I need better shoes. Desperately. Something good for hiking in and out of water.
• Mindy Smith has a lovely voice, I especially dig the acoustic version of One Moment More (skip the download if you're not into sap)
• Paste Magazine has great supplemental DVDs even if Billy Corgan is on the cover.
• Extra special hat tip to Robbie for stopping by outta the way. Way too short a time to listen to that sweet Irish lilt.
• If you can't find your car keys, check the fridge.
• Whenever I travel west, I get this inexplicable feeling that stirs my spirit.
• Lots of photos from waterproof cameras on the rafting trip are posted.
• I need to incorporate steel cut oats with flax oil in my daily regimine.
• Chicken lady loves life.

NWA

Looking out from the Northwest terminal

I took exactly one photo on the trip back.

This is it.

Yuba

The perfect pool

I mentioned the Yuba River in the next post, but I figured I'd backtrack here and post one of the photos I took while hiking down.

Pretty hard to capture how wonderful it is.

Monster Trucks

Yeehaw

Couple trips to the Nevada County Fair today. The first was for animals, but had the bonus of arm wrestling. The second trip was all about the monster trucks and fried food. Typical fair fare, but made sweeter under cover of tall redwoods.

Balloons, Woody and Bears

and I laughed like I always do
and I cried, like I cry for you
and balloon man blew up in my hand
—Robyn Hitchcock

The topic of balloons came up after dinner last night. Maybe you've been to BigBoysBalloons.com and you already know they specialize in big and unusual balloons.

Everyone has their thing. But some quirks are exceptionally dangerous.

Like after watching the Behind-the-Music-like exposé of Grizzly Man (Timothy Treadwell) last night on ABC Primetime. They didn't focus so much on his intimate footage of bears, but more so, the tragedy that would become his life when he didn't get the gig as Woody on Cheers. That spiraled into a bout of drugs and some meandering until he had a religious experience up in Alaska with a bear.

It's no spoiler to tell you that he went bonkers filming these beasts, getting way too close and eventually dying by their paws. Oh, and even though they say he had a girlfriend—he was supergay. The full article is here. The movie is out soon.

The moral of this entry? Don't be too upset if you don't get the Woody part, bears kill fags, and balloons are your friend.

Walkin the dogs

Preventing stir crazy

Why go all the way out to California and not go to the big cities or tourist attractions? Well, I look at hanging out in one place and getting to know the day to day provides a rewarding experience, much like traveling abroad and going to school.

There's a quiet rhythm to the day that emerges when you're staying at a place that has no HBO.

Highlights include deciding which porch to sit on as the sun moves across the property, and walking the dogs.

Done rafted

Thank you, waterproof disposable cameras

It was hot—like over a hundred degrees hot. But the water was 59° so it balanced everything out. Two days of fun on the American River, framed by our rafting guides serving up breakfast, lunch and dinner.

I survived without any broken bones but maybe a few bruises. You really can't see them because they are internal. There's a rock on that river I have some stern words for next time.

Injuries were worth it though, with amicable fellas flying in from lots of faraway states— filling up the camp site and boats with grins, hotness and a little bit of mayhem.

More pictures later.

At Camp

Post river

One of the best parts of the rafting trip was the group of 30 fellas. Perfect size to almost get to know everyone's name as we randomly filled up boats, left wet butt prints on the bus seats on the way back to camp, and taunting our guides with innuendo over dinner.

I'd be remiss to forget the nurse that tended to a cut on my foot that'd been bothering me.

The evening ended with a flop of folks looking up at the ceiling of a geodesic dome tent listening to music.

TONS of photos from the trip

Ditching work

Overhead shot

On Friday, I borrowed an Echo (looking on Toyota's site, it seems it is no longer made), got lost on the backroads on the way to the grocery store. Used the mobile phone to call back for clarification on the list—like 10 times.

Got back to the ranch and gerbil spa to find new guests had arrived. Everyone was down in the ditch, sitting in the water on foldable camping chairs sipping beers and mix drinks.

We ended the night relatively before too much damage was done, as the rafting trip would require an early rise and lots of energy.

I slept soundly in a hammock.

CMH > MSP > SMF

Drowning out the noise

It feels like forever since I've up and gone on a plane, but that's the type of hyperbolizing perfect for blogging.

I started off yesterday getting to the airport in Columbus, because that's one of the places you go when you live in Cincinnati to save some money on airfare.

Blah Blah Blah. Fast forward through delays in Minneapolis and finally arriving at my destination: the Bears Gone Wild Fatty Farm and Day Spa—where I ended up languishing in a hot tub with a cold beer, looking up at the Milky Way with negligible light noise.

It's very zen.

Tomorrow, I hop in a raft and continue to celebrate the masculine lifestyle.

Pizza

Hand painted stools

Today I took a few initial photos for a web project that just fell into my lap. Aside from that, I'm cramming here trying to get ducks in a row so I can get outta dodge for a long weekend.

I barely have time to post, but once you skip a day or three, it's harder to get back on the horse. I've been writing some drafts lately. Heavier topics that are more political or ranting in nature... I'm trying to sit on stuff like that so I can research and ponder appropriately.

So until then, I'll try and keep getting the photos up and writing something short.

Dinner Club: August

Nibblin in the kitchen

We've got a few more rounds of this potluck version of dinner club, until we're back to hitting bona-fide restaurants. Shaking things up is always prudent.

But I must say, the home-made vittles for this particular get together were especially memorable. The maytag bruschetta, slaw of some asian flavor I can't recall, grilled pork loin, and some excellent cobbler from the Dr. Weil cookbook stood out in my mind.

I must collect recipes.

The chocolate covered strawberries were a treat I failed to mention

The cobbler. I took some home for leftovers and ate 3 more portions before midnight.

Kitty cats

Damn screen door

On Sunday I left the dogs behind, to hang out with other cats.