Heaven Sent

love it, love it, love IT.

Structureless Prison Yard

I'm taking another class. I've found they give me a good shot of excitement/confidence. I wish I could take them year-round. My instructor is great, and he's helping me, indirectly, to realize I should get over myself. I'm trying to celebrate the process and not fret about the end result _ a common human tendency.

What else is there to say? Try to be better than yourself, not your contemporaries. That's what William Faulkner said. Lately, I've been wrangling with doubts/questions about my life's purpose, and amid those moments I sometimes see an answer _ that I was given my brain, my body, my spirit by nature/god/chance, and that I must/can/should use them/it for their/its highest purpose _ that being my natural tendency. And that is the tendency toward creativity.

I get like this whenever I miss a few days of writing, which has happened more frequently the last three months. It is doubt, guilt and disappointment. I question my conviction. I don't know... all I can do is pick it up again. It's good to be in class.

Whatever You Can Dream Up

I love this story. Not much of a surprise. I want them to release details of the kinds of payoffs made, and the bands they were made for. There's a reason we continue to hear Audioslave: three cases of Red Bull and dinner at Peter Luger's... ... and $15,000.

Monosyllabic, Polyrhythmic

It was great to see old friends and meet some new people this past weekend. I'm sure most of you who read this already know, but if you don't, check out Diamond Nights outta NYC. It was my first time seeing them live, and I loved it. Fantastic rock 'n roll.

Not much else to say. I'm joining pals to see the Cubs game tonight. Rain threatens, tho. Threatens. Heh, heh. Monday.

This Is Work? Sign Me Up!

While visiting my folks up in Green Bay, I found an older book on playwrighting. In the token "writing life" section, it mentioned some playwrights surround themselves with artifacts or totems related to their current work, or even dress up in the costume of their subjects _ to, y'know, immerse themselves in the subject.

I want you to know I always wear the business casual uniform of the poor schlub I'm portraying. It's almost like I work in an office. But, I assure you, I've just returned from a 9:15 trip to Jewel with some garbage bags and rice pudding. The laundry lies in piles at my feet as I sip my herbal tea. The cat is on my lap. This is the life I've always dreamed of...

A freelance parrot writer.

Collusive Converging Confluence

Today is moving along at a good clip. If I ration out my tasks, I'll be back home and in the seat in no time.

Erika and I joined the YMCA on Halstead and have already been twice to use the exercise equipment. I plan to work on my jump shot in the coming months. Exercise is great. I'm getting back to my old form _ whatever that means.

They're installing a camera in our office. This is what they call "convergence," I suppose _ the consolidation of content. Woundup is on board with that. So here's another picture for you... Political satirist Mark Russell!

New Kicks

Wow. Google Images is going to revolutionize our ways of reminiscing. Just type in the title of a favorite old album and BANG a full page of identical cover art thumbnails hit you like a warm wave of... right, right. Try it. It's fun!
(I always liked Polvo's cover art)

Read This

Something really worthwhile _ Erika's account of our honeymoon. Updates upcoming.

What About My Outside Interests?

How 'bout these pictures? I never knew! The perfect ploy to divert attention from my short and substandard posts. Here's my favorite playwright, Joe Orton.

The Recovering Narcissist's Reading List

It's the All-Star break and here are your halfway leaders. Yes, there's been a lot of baseball lately. I'm making a promise to Erika (and myself) to forsake sports literature and return to the gnashing, modernistic fare that made me famous. Hello "Absalom, Absalom!"

As a parting shot... I'm not one to over-sympathize with pro ballplayers, but it's a strange profession where a complete outsider can make a living off calling you a fraud for games played nearly 50 years ago. I'm talking about Bill James' assessment of Dodger great Don Drysdale.

He even hired an assistant to prove Drysdale wasn't Hall of Fame material. That time James saved on coffee runs really sealed the big righty's fate. In his defense, Drysdale was no Juan Marichal, but he made one helluva mocha latte.

Do Over

As Yogi Berra once said, "You only get one life, so don't fuck it up." Well, he didn't really say that, but I'm sure he echoed the sentiment at some point during his Hall-of-Fame career behind the dish _ perhaps to Jim Bouton.

If I had to do it all over again, I'd be a baseball play-by-play man for radio. Maybe there's still time, but I don't know how my voice stacks up against the greats...

"We've got a beautiful day for baseball. The Cubs are in their traveling whites: blue socks, blue caps, black shoes. Carlos Zambrano is your pitcher. 6'3" 220 pounds. The big Venezuelan took a beating last week in Oakland and is looking to bounce back. Ronnie, we saw him warming up earlier, and his sinker was really working. Today's pre-game show is brought to you by Ace Hardware. Don't miss the Ace super summer grill sale. Jerry Hairston is leading off today. He has a .388 on-base percentage over the last week. The Cubs have needed a consistent lead-off man. It looks like he might be filling that role. Ronnie, you know a little bit about leading off."

(Ron laughs) "No, Pat. No... I don't."

Maybe I could write Pat Hughes' banter. I dunno...

Hoo Ha! More Marriage Hookum

More marriage-related news items. I really feel like I'm on the winning team here.

This was an option Erika and I considered, and it's still a possibility. Combinations include...

Donahart
Eckahue
Rockefeller (my suggestion)

BOOM. BLAM. POW

Fourth of July. Scourge of the American intellectual. If the Right knew how little it took to disrupt the KReaTiVe LiFe machine, they'd push for more dynamite-themed holidays in Congress.

How many anti-Bush spray paint campaigns will be foiled this year because M-80's drove the conspirators to bed early while still in the planning stages?

"I just (BOOM!) need to (BLAM!) drink some herbal tea and (POW!) go to bed. I can't take this shit."

Drunk Again at the Old Town School of Music

I'm really going to Tuman's in a few minutes, but I liked that header so much... now's it for the ages.

And then... And then...

I couldn't figure out anything else to do, so I'm here now. Not always the best idea. I might say something I'll regret. It happens a lot in this business _ more than you think. And you might not know how much work goes into each post. This is my fourth draft of this post, and it's only a few lines long. Scratch that. This is my fourth draft of this post, and it's only a few lines old. No. Scratch that one. This is my fourth draft of this post, and it's not even--NO NO NO. Dammit. This is my fourth draft of these posts--FUCK.

I'm going to fucking lunch.