Truesday.

Memories, Seventies.

I think a lot about the past. Decisions I've made, things I've seen, done, whatever. I was in the shower just now thinking about what I remember from the 1970s. Granted, I wasn't around for much of them, but there are some distinct and fuzzy bits that I can recall. So, here we go:

1974: Spent most of the year in the womb, so nothing. Nada.
1975: Still nothing. Although I do know that I had a birthday party. There were pictures.
1976: I have a vague memory of seeing President Gerald Ford on television, but that could be projecting to the past.
1977: Star Wars. Definitely the first thing I truly remember. I was scared shitless of Darth Vader, but even more so of the Sand People. Those dudes kept me sleepless for weeks.
1978-1979: Here's where it gets a bit difficult. I have some random memories of my dad still living at home (my parents divorced at the end of the decade, but I'm still a bit fuzzy as to exactly when), our dog Molly, a couple of Christmases, but what stands out are the following:
    - Being totally shit scared of any games or toys that went BAM! (the game Concentration) or BUZZ! (Operation)
    - Being bitten in the back by the neighbor's German Shepherd. That dog took a chunk out of me with a chain link fence between us. Wow, was I upset. Funny thing is, I love those dogs now.
    - Toilet training the kid across the street. His name was, uh, Jeffy (ugh), and I seem to remember his parents weren't too well off. We lived in Detroit (yes, the actual Detroit, not a suburb) while that particular area was still multi-racial (somewhat, that is, it was quickly turning into a White Flight zone) and I think Jeffy's parents were white working class, somewhat behind the curve, to put it nicely. I'm sure they were good people, just with a lot on their plate. Anyway, I toilet trained their kid. I remember telling him to aim for the big hole in the chair in the bathroom. Weird.
    - I remember being shit scared (there's that again - I was a really neurotic child) of the basement, the black leather couch with the collapsed cushion in the back room, the back seat of my mom's VW Beetle (same problem as the couch) and the garage.
    - I remember my mom working on said Beetle quite a lot, which is the reason that I love LOVE the smell of Bondo.
    - Listening to music. A lot. Bad Company's Desolation Angels, Rolling Stones' Some Girls, Fleetwood Mac's Rumours, and Foreigner.
    - My early childhood attempt at trying to eat and/or drink while lying down. My dad did it all the time, and I wanted to give it a go. Nearly choked to death.
    - My mom accidentally pulling out my pinky toe nail. Long story. Not in any way child abuse. Although it does grow up, rather than out, now.
    - My mom (I guess my dad must have moved out with some seventies remaining, after he did my mom and I spent a lot of time together. It was awesome) going back to college, and our favorite game, where she would put me in this huge suitcase and carry me around the house. I wasn't let out until I got the room right.
    - Dad memories: Waking him up in the mornings by plugging his nose or opening his eyelids. Being totally awestruck by him spitting ice cubes at the dog who would (while waiting patiently) catch them mid-air. Sitting in his lap while we watched TV. Him trying to repair my favorite toy (at this particular time it was a little Air Force jet thing, with metal body and plastic wings) by trying to melt the plastic where the wings had broken. He ended up just buying me a new one.
    - I seem to remember we had a boarder at one time. Weird.
    - My mom becoming a swim coach. And a butcher.
    - The night my mom came home from playing Racquetball, and scaring me to death when she showed my the black eye she got from being hit by the ball. I nearly peed myself.
    - The occasional -- and most awesome -- water fight. In the house. Awesome.
    - But oddly, the most vivid thing I remember from that time, and the thing that has stuck with me down to my very core was a calendar I got from Baskin & Robbins. It was pink (or pinkish with orange and yellow highlights -- ah, the seventies) and it was a poster. It had the year going around in an oval, with January starting on the middle left and going around like a track until December butted up against January. That poster was on the back of my door to my bedroom for years, and it is the way I actually think -- that is to say, visualize -- time. A chain of ovals that move in that direction. The weirdest part? The links and ovals are in those colors too. Weird.

I guess a lot of the seventies will be tied up in that house in Detroit for me. I remember ringing in 1980 in Redford, at my grandmother's house, with some news report talking about the state of the auto industry (when the news used to be newsy) and the big three logos next to some talking head. But that was the eighties, and that was Redford. There are lots of other things from the seventies that come a-pourin' in as I write this, but those were the big ones. The things that mattered enough that I didn't need deep recall to get them to the fore.

One last one:
    - I remember my dad leaving, sorta. More that that, really, I remember wondering and hoping my parents would get back together. I think it was a natural response. As I got older, I began to realize that they (and for that matter the family as a whole, albeit split in two for me) were better off. My parents got along better apart, and my dad eventually met the right woman for him, and one hell of a great step mom for me. My mom, well, she focused (perhaps a bit too much, at times) on me, and other things. Some of those other things turned out to be not so great, and in some cases probably contributed to her eventual fate. That's all I will say about that.

The seventies were fuzzy at best for me, but what I remember I'm glad. I had a ton of fun.

The Week, The Weekend, The Real.

So...
Friday (2/22/08) kinda sucked. Firstly, the powers that be who make my writing gig financially viable have decided that they are going to take all the time they have alloted to send out checks. Instead of getting them within two weeks of billing, I will probably get it just on the cusp of exactly two weeks. Very annoying, but it was the final straw for me. I finally decided to go with their Direct Deposit set-up, which I was hemming and hawing about -- mainly because it isn't a 'regular' job situation. It's freelance, and I like seeing the check in my hand. But oh well. Then...

Yes, kids, that is one sharp-ass piece of glass. That I found in my Vegetarian Roll that I bought for dinner. (Although I feel it necessary out of safety's sake to say that it was purchased at Whole Foods here in the loop, I must say that I don't want to disparage the store as it is. They were extremely helpful and understanding.) Yup. What a day. I went to the comic shop, got a few titles, and decided it was time to get some veggie rolls for me and the Dr. to enjoy over Friday night TV -- which for us is centered around E!'s The Soup. Home I go with for boxes of lovely veggie/sushi enjoyment (and dog food -- the dog eats the good shit here) and while Amanda is getting washed up, I just go ahead and dig in. Roll section #2, chew, chew, CRUNCH! Urgh. So I go over to the trash, spit it out, wash out my mouth, and go back to eating. I figured it was a rock, or uncooked something or other. No biggie. Then section of the roll #5 (I'm guessing)... Chew, chew, CRUNCH. URRGHHH! So, this time, I decide that a closer inspection is due. And the picture above is what I pulled out. Great. Rinse out again, pack up all the food (Amanda hadn't eaten any of hers) and back to the store. They were surprisingly concerned -- which was great -- and refunded us our money AND gave us a gift card so we could get food for the night. Which Amanda would prepare, and it was friggin' amazing. Carrot/Broccoli/Tofu Noodle stir fry. My god, she's just so good with flavor. I can cook sustenance type things, filling meals, but she has a skill with mixing flavor and taste that just eludes me.

So...That sucked. For the last couple of days I've been watching all my...uh...you know...for any sign that I missed any glass. No such luck so far. Thank god.
And then Saturday. Sheesh. Went to the local Randall's (downtown) to take in some change to cash in to avoid putting more money on the cards and halfway through the process, the machine jams. No biggie, right? Call the manager! Wrong. The MOD doesn't have a key. So we have to wait until today (very early this morning) to call and get our print outs and put the rest of the change in.
I think god is telling me to keep my shopping trips limited to the Fiesta down the street.

Running was good, however. I've sorta upped my standard run. I noticed that I could just keep going and going the longer I ran, so I've upped to a 60 minute standard. Three of those a week, M-W-Sa, with Friday being a 30 minute recovery run. Sorta. Still gotta get 'slow' on that one. So I ended up running a grand total of 23.74 miles. Jeez. Wow. The funny part is that during yesterday's run, at about mile 6.2, I just felt like I could go another lap around Rice (making it three) and... I finally felt that a marathon is, well, doable. A very realistic goal, really. Honestly, I didn't really feel like I hit my stride on the run until I was over 6 miles. It just felt good at that point. I didn't really want to stop. Does that make me a weirdo?

Probably.

Now, let's get all deep.

No! Wait. I want to take a moment and bitch a moment about Ralph Nader entering the election today.

Okay, I am just as aware as any left-leaning that the current system is controlled by the corporate world, that money rules all, blah blah blah...

But I am also aware that we have two courses to take here if the system is to change. First is total unabashed revolution. Scrap the system. Start over. I would love to be in a world where the intelligent fringe could be in a position of power, but there are too many stupid people out there to trust in Libertarianism (the very pure kind) and there are just too many people, period, to have some one like Nader be effective. Which brings us to the second point, if we are to make changes, they have to be gradual. I would rather have a Obama or an Edwards in office than a third party crackpot (Yes, I said it. I think Nader -- outside of his reputation and such -- isn't the guy you'd really want in office, and he's just getting old. I think he's more driven by his ego than anything) or loon from the far right being kicked around Washington for four years.

So, to all you who think that Nader is the only answer: Third parties in this country have not risen to the top by running for the executive. Start at the local level. Get Greenies or Libs or whatever on your city, county and township ballots. Then work to state. Then national. Then take majority. Then... You get the idea. You want a government that can't get anything done? Or an executive who has NO power? Put a third party guy/gal in there now.

Remember: ALL politics is local.

Ok, depth.

For those of you who are around my age...
Remember REAL? Remember how back in the early 1990s, it was all gonna get 'real?' MTV put a bunch of strangers in a house... and they got 'real?' Or how about music? Suddenly bands like Rush and Kiss were putting out albums that were 'real!' (I am speaking of Counterparts and Revenge, respectively) So, what happened? When I look back, shows like Friends and such were there to push aside the Huxtable formula of televisual entertainment, and we were all gonna act and be...well, REAL. But the truth was, it didn't get real, it just got a nicer sheen. The fashions changed, and we weren't gonna be fooled by poodle metal bands with big hair anymore. Or acid washed jeans. No way, man. Warrant had to cut their hair, and guys started wearing flannel shirts with work boots and faded jeans. Funny. Everyone tends to look on the eighties as a 'polished' decade, but the nineties (outside of the fantastically drug ridden bands that did get some attention -- drug riddled idiots, sure, but it was more real than what we were being fed -- thank you Gin Blossoms) were way too shiny. Perhaps I'm finally getting jaded about the decade I once worshipped. Truth be told, I'm not fooled anymore. The years there have a special place in my heart, but in my mind, I know better. It was a wonderful, foolish haze to be a part of, but I think we had a lot of work to do -- which, for the most part, got looked over in the end. So that's that. I'm off.

Friday Morning Observations

- I am 34, and in cultural terms, I am a relic. This obviously needs more explaining, but I'll have to sculpt that one very carefully, and I have work to do.

- If you don't own the deluxe edition of Rick James' Street Songs, I suggest -- no, I insist -- you go out and get a copy. I know that I have spent a great deal of time and energy listening to extreme European metal as of late, but starting your day with the live disc that comes in the re-release of Street Songs (recorded in California in July of 1981) is doing a favor to yourself and your soul. It makes the sun shine just that much brighter, brutha. And in my opinion it may be the best goddamn show ever performed by anyone. The horns, the riffs, the bass, the Rick, and the songs with Teena Marie are fucking amazing. Start your day with THAT.

- There is something quite beautiful in the garbage truck blasting "You Are The Sunshine In My Life" by Stevie Wonder as the dudes take the trash. Poignant.

- Sheffield Wednesday is going to get relegated. I can feel it.

- The record stores in Houston suck. All of the metal I want to get as of late (usually found in the new reviews or best of 2007 lists in the prominent metal magazines I read) isn't in stock. Crap!

- I have been reading a lot of comics lately. Getting caught up on nearly 20 years of development in the Marvel Universe ain't gonna be easy. Why, though? Why do I care suddenly about Avengers Disassembled, or House of M, or Marvel Civil War? Is it, as my wife so bluntly put it, that I'm a 12 year old? Or am I just jaded with the book world (working in a big box bookstore will do that to you) that it's all I've got? Whatever it may be, I'm enjoying it and I don't really care that much. To happiness!

- I used to try so damn hard. I used to wear the uniform and listen and say and take and drink and smoke the right things just to fit in with a certain element of the social fabric. And while I regret nothing, and I miss so many of those involved a lot, I wish I could have been more honest with myself and with them. They were very good friends to me and they deserved more from me as a person. Granted, this was when I was 16-25, so it's pretty hard to expect me to act with any sort of tact or class.

That's it. I got biographies to write.

Second Things First

Yes, I ran this weekend. But I feel like writing about something else this brisk evening.

So, Wednesday beat Sheffield United 2-0 at Hillsborough. Thank god. Granted, they're still only one place above relegation, so it's still tetchy at best. On the bright side, there is a game in hand, and they have a good shot at beating Derby this week in the FA Cup replay at home. Just think, though. I could be rooting for a League One side next season. Sheesh.

Watched Cinema Paradiso on Saturday. Not a bad little movie. I hear the director's cut fleshes out other parts of the story. I will pass. Seems to me that the point of the thing was the idea of letting go...hmmm...

Today? Today was a good day. 6 hours of work, and I managed to make double what I did at my last job for a day's work. Sure, there are moments when I wish I were writing with a bit more freedom, about bands that really get me going, but hey! This pays the bills, and I get to work at home or at a cafe or...you get the idea.

The odd thing about most of these bios I'm doing is that they're winners of some sort of pop-idol contest TV reality show thing in their respective nations. Pop Idol Finland, for example. But one of the oddest has to be the contest to determine who would play Maria in a revival of the Sound of Music in London's West End. Weird. Granted, there are tons of reality entertainer shows going on here, it's just that I choose to ignore them. And since American Idol winners are covered for my job by others, I won't have to worry about who wins what or when in domestic competitions.

That all being said, I think my sudden kicking-ass as of late writing-wise has been noticed. I get to write bios and reviews on some of my favorite bands over the next day or so, so I can't complain. Which bands, you ask? Well:

Katatonia
Made Out of Babies
Battle of Mice

and reviews for:

Joe Lally
Red Sparowes
Made Out of Babies
Battle of Mice

It's gonna be a good week. And hell, I may manage to get enough done the next two days that I can not work Thursday and Friday at no loss. Why don't I get on these trips earlier?

It's really not lost on me that I write for a living, and I'm pretty good at keeping up here, but I never respond to emails anymore. I am aware, and I am working on it. Promise.

Vlorg!

Overcooked?

So, here we are. Again.
I can't actually remember the last post I gave, so I'll just talk about the last three days. Three days. Funny, I remember telling myself that three straight days of running was too much, and that I was against it. Oops. Today was three days in a row, and it may have been a bit on the 'much' side. This time it was the left leg that was a bit iffy, but not too bad. I kept a much slower pace than on Wednesday, which was really quite stupidly quick, that is to say around 9:01/mile. Not what we're shootin' fer, eh! (To the point, today was around 9:10. Not on target either. F.)

So...I was thinking. During my last spate of running fun, I adhered to the runningtimes.com training program, and while I think it would have worked had I not been overdoing the easier runs, I now think I need my own new set up, and this is what I'm going to do...
Instead of just walk then run then walk, I'm gonna try walk, slow run, run, slow run, walk. I figure it will work out this way:
Walk (14:00-16:00/mile pace) for 5 minutes
Slow Jog (11:00-12:00/mile pace) for 5 minutes
Fast Jog (9:10-9:45/mile pace) for 20-25 minutes, depending
Slow Jog (12:00-13:00/mile pace) for 5 minutes
Slow Walk (20:00-24:00/mile pace) for remainder to car.

We're gonna try in on Saturday. Tomorrow is rest time.

So, the music critic gods have decided to smile on me, and I've actually been assigned the Burn to Shine V. 5 DVD I got. Thank you, AMG!

What else? Oh, not much. The beard grows, I procrastinate on the important things, I realize more faults, and I try to trudge through the crud. Dum Dee Dum Dee Dum. Do Do Do Do Do...

Songs for the day:
Atom Heart Mother (Suite) - Pink Floyd
I Don't Sleep, I Dream - R.E.M.
Soy Loco Por Ti, America - Caetano Veloso
The Light That Burns The Sun - Watain
Don't Talk - 10,000 Maniacs

End of transmission.

Updates.

So I miss a couple of days. Sue me. Well, you all missed a run on yesterday and a run today. Whee-haw. Yesterday was a 20 minute-er, which was pretty uneventful save for the constant beeping of my Garmin telling me that I was above my pre-determined HR max setting. At a certain number (in my case 170) it will tell me that my HR is too high by a little beep. Usually, I wouldn't really care too much, but this time, it was (on the one hand) really annoying and kind of surprising. I feel that this new chapter in my running has been a bit harder than the last one. That would be an unremarkable statement, but I started the last phase of running obsession in Houston summer, which is high HR territory, so it wasn't a surprise when the beep would sound. This time, it is spring(ish) here, and the temps are fairly reasonable. So, I was a bit miffed, and shut the damn alarm off. I know damn well when I'm working too hard in that respect and I really have NO problem stopping and gently strolling. I just didn't feel that HR number. Odd.
So, today, I decided to take it slow, and do a little self-test. My mantra -- and I should have come up with this a long time ago -- was "the slower you do run, the longer you can run." A statement which proves that: a) things hit me much later than they do with most people, and: b) I really like running. Or at least that's how I see it. And it worked wonders. By simply adding 20 seconds to my overall pace time, I was able to avoid the HR alert (which is still turned off) by 15 points. Not too shabby. And, I was able to just blow by the 20 minute run idea, and go a nice 3 miles instead. Bing!
Yeah, today was one of those days where it just felt really right.

On to other things. Good news for me is that I finally found that damn Katatonia CD. I have been putting all my music on my hard drive, and figured that I'd find it by the simple opening up of every damn disc I own. Well, I got through the artist CDs, only to find it not there. Today I thought I'd look in soundtracks to see if my luck was any better, and ta-dah! There it was nestled in nicely with the soundtrack to the BBC show Teachers. Sah-weet.

This may seem like a bit off-kilter, but there are some things I don't wish to deal with here. That isn't to say that I won't bring up heavy duty subjects, but I feel that sometimes it's better to just keep things out of the public scope, so that those who need to can deal with the event or subject with some dignity. I know that sounds really loaded and asking for comment, but I just wanted to say that sometimes quiet contemplation can be a good thing. Those who know of what I speak, know of what I speak.

Tomorrow is more writing. It's really been picking up. I have a HUGE file that I can chip away at, and I am now in a position to whittle my current job title down to "writer, freelance." It's really a great, motivating feeling. Fingers crossed I can keep it up.

Tracks of the Day:
"My Twin" by Katatonia
"Indian Summer" by Manic Street Preachers

That is all.