I know I'm preaching to the converted but...

Odds are pretty good that anyone coming here already agrees with me. Or is so opposed to me that nothing I say is going to change your mind.

I'm not asking you to agree with me. But I am begging you to get educated. Learn the facts. From multiple sources.

We will rise only through knowledge and education. But this country will drown if its citizens allow themselves to remain ignorant.

And never put something on a sign or t-shirt unless you know what the fuck it means. For real people.



Just a couple of hints. Medicaid is technically socialized medicine. And our military is supported through those taxes you don't want raised. The same military you want to stay in Iraq to protect us against the terrorists.

I've got a pain in my ass.

Literally.

When I was a child, one winter they plowed the street I lived on and it left a huge snow mound in the middle of our cul de sac. Well, huge in relation to a skinny boy in the fourth grade. And I had a great time climbing to the top and leaping off, sliding down the sides.

It started getting late. I realized I should head home for dinner. One more jump, just one more leap before I had to abandon the fun.

I landed, straddling something hard and frozen. The pain and shock knocked the wind out of me. It shot up my spine. Breathing hurt. Trying to stand was impossible. I have trouble still finding the right words to describe what it felt like but try to imagine pain so bad that it feels like everything above the waist is being driven away from everything below the waist. And remember what I just wrote about having trouble breathing? So I couldn't make enough noise to yell for help.

What could I do? I could crawl. Combat crawl that is, on just my elbows and forearms. Forget using my legs. I mean I could feel my feet and legs and all. But my spine hurt so anything that required using it or my legs was out of the question. And my house was the distance equivalent of a city block and a half away.

I crawled across the frozen road till I got to yards and then I crawled through snow. I can't remember how long till I could put weight on my knees, let alone get through the front door.

It was bad but for some reason my parents didn't take me to get x-rayed till the next morning. At the time I was told the x-rays were negative for a break, just a really bad bruise. I sat on foam padding for days. If I wasn't already developing a reputation for being a freak this might have hurt my social standing.

This summer the pain came back. A few days have been bad and sometimes when I sit on the wrong type of seat or in the wrong position it comes back. Never as painful as that first time but a nuisance. So Wife finally talked me in to getting it checked out.

New x-ray revealed that all those years ago I didn't bruise it after all. I broke it. Not that they could have done anything really back then besides hope for the best. There is a small piece in my tailbone not connected to anything anymore. I'll probably develop arthritis in it as I get older. I could get surgery to have it removed. Which would take a long time to heal up.

But the fun thing is it is not bad enough to really demand that path. It is just going to be this thing that I have for the rest of my life. Unless it gets worse. Most days it doesn't bother me. Till I get reminded. Because I sat wrong.

Do you realize how much time we spend sitting?

I don't get it, well I do, but.....

Why was it when "we" made statements like "He's not my president" we were helping the terrorists and anti-American?

Yet when "they" pray for Obama to die and bring guns to events they're being patriots and to question or criticize them is to deny them their First Amendment rights?

You don't need to respond to that. They're rhetorical questions. As a member of the liberal elite I also know other big words.

Like hypocrisy.

What next?

Strange days lately. I realized that I've pretty much accomplished my major goals in life. I have Wife. I have Dog and Cat. I have my scooter and a pretty decent car. We have the house. I have a job I love (except that it could pay a little better) that allows me to occasionally travel. Pretty sweet. Other than seeing more of the world before I die and buying more toys and tattoos, those are what I've wanted to do and more.

Kind of left with a sense of "now what?" I mean, besides enjoy it of course.

It is kind of a strange feeling. A little restless. And really, what else is there?

More travel? Sure but no rush.

More pets? That's a maybe but Cat is getting older and we really don't want to stress him out with new additions that disrupt his well being.

Kids? Hell no, not even if they come with huge stipends and an army of paid for nannies.

Maybe I just need to get back to teaching next week and I'll be too busy to think about it.

Pictures of wrought iron

I put a bunch of New Orleans photos on my flickr if you want to check them out.

There's a link to my photos to the right.

Post-modern haiku: Tattoo

Yes, of course it hurts

The needle digs and skin bleeds

And soon it will itch

Is there anybody out there?

I've been spending a lot of time alone and outside of my normal routines lately due to various traveling. It has been a strange experience.

Wife went on a family visit. Then I had business travel as I've mentioned. Then Wife had business travel. During my business travel I managed to catch up with an old friend and tried to make some new ones (jury is still out on that).

School hasn't resumed and I managed to hit a perfect storm of finishing my book, latest video game, and netflix a day before Wife got home. Plus no good TV. Nice stir crazy affect. I could have contacted some locals to hang out. But I couldn't think of anything last minute I wanted to do in order to decide who to even bother to try to get together with. I'll confess some of it was pure laziness on my part. Inertia is a bitch.

But I'm also just plain weird when it comes to socializing. I'm not very good at it, except for those times when I am. I'm so hot and cold at it. I hate making small talk. I love meeting new people. Except when it comes to talking to them. I made some very intense connections to people in college and after that I almost never talk to anymore.

I moved too many times to put down strong enough roots to feel connected. And that is where I've really screwed myself. Cause I just don't feel like starting over again making new friends here. "Oh, you've all got pretty satisfying social lives? Cool. You change your mind, you let me know."

So many people I've let get away. I miss you all. Drop me a line some time. I hope you're all happy.

But I'd prefer if you'd all move here.

---

School starts in two weeks. I promise I'll be less maudlin then.

Pimping my wife

Wife has a side business making hoola hoops. She got a nice write up in the weekly city paper.

I'm just so excited and happy for her. I have nothing snarky to add.

I know what it means to leave New Orleans

Just got back from a conference in New Orleans.

It was a strange mix of work, fun, and self-analysis. I guess it is only fitting in a town with NO's reputation. When I first thought about writing it up, I thought about doing some sort of diary entry, spelling out the day and what occurred of note. That almost seems too traditional and mundane to cover it.

Some highlights though:

I caught up with a friend from high school days. How do you overcome two decades of time? Amazingly enough I like to think we might have succeeded. Time will tell on that but I also feel I put to bed some of my lingering issues from then. I also learned just how much goes on that one is oblivious to knowing. We think we know most of the picture. Some times we have the equivalent to a snap shot and a piece of twine. Clues that we think tell a story but turn out to be far short. I also had the best cup of coffee I've ever drank.

My life never stops being surprising or entertaining. I saw a horse cop ride half way in to a karaoke bar and dance on the back of his mount to a hip hop song (yes, I and several of my friends sang at the bar. No, I was not the person on stage at that moment). I got to witness part of the New Orleans Red Dress Run, an excuse to drink and for many participants to cross dress. Just now I remembered that I saw two tranny hookers. At 1:30 on a Saturday afternoon. I had someone explain to me and a friend in much more detail than was called for the details of his heart attack.

I had several of the nicest meals of my life. In case you were wondering, haute cuisine appears to be about reducing food down to its essence flavors. A feast for the senses. Very indulgent. I highly recommend it. But at the same time there is something analytical about it. The experience gets in the way of the nourishment. Comfort may not be a transcendent experience but it sticks to your ribs. Some times we feed our body. Some times we feed our soul. Haute cuisine falls somewhere between those two poles. I'm glad I got to do it.

Actual conversation (slightly paraphrased) that happened to me on the streets while I was taking a photo:
Strange woman who may or may not have been hitting on me: "Can you answer a question for me?"
Me as I realize she is not going to walk into my shot so I can take it: "I can try."
SWWMOMNHBHOM: "Why are guys such douchebags?"
Me: "Testosterone."
SWWMOMNHBHOM: "Really?"
Me: "Yes."
SWWMOMNHBHOM: "That's it?"
Me: "Yes."
SWWMOMNHBHOM: "How do you get them to stop being douche bags?"
Me: "Hurt them."
SWWMOMNHBHOM: "Wha?"
Me: "You've got to hurt them in such a way that makes them realize how much they are hurting other people."
SWWMOMNHBHOM: "Oh. That won't work. He's always going to be a douchebag.....Oh no. Oh no! OH NO! OH NO! Someone is calling me a douchebag!"
At that point she ran down the street to have a half shouted conversation with someone she had seen walking towards us. And of course she was drunk. It was after noon. But her title was long enough.

By the time I left I was nearly crushed by the longing to see Wife again. We had been apart for over a week due to overlapping trips. Suck ass to a painful degree.

I also must say thank you to B.S. for being there.

And to E. and N. for new experiences and hopefully new friendships. And for making me feel welcome with the cool kids. I have no idea if either of you will ever read this. But if you do, I'd just like to say: "Porn."

It seems the most appropriate way to summarize the trip.

This has no right to be this awesome.

The whole mash-up idea has a certain level of fascination for me. In its most primitive versions it is very rough, little more than replacing the chorus of one song with a much different song that almost, but not quite, fits.

But at its finest, it shows great talent and vision to see how two songs that don't go together actually belong that way. Yes, DJs have been mixing songs together for years. But the fusing that a good or great mash-up shows, perhaps better than anything, the true power in the hands of the average fan in the digital age. The ability to take something so pop (or pap as the case may be) and make it this compelling:

What else is the Internet for?