My Own Private Idaho

Traditional English Christmas

2009-12-24T08:18:00.002-07:00

Every year during the holidays I seem to have one major Clark Giswaldesque blow up.

2 nights ago we (Dad and the kids) slept downstairs by the Christmas Tree, it was not pretty. After kicking the couch (that I was trying to sleep on) over and over and over and over, while she was screaming "I can't sleep" I lost it aka "going griswald". I threatened to throw the Christmas Tree in the street and move to Africa in a place where they don't celebrate Christmas. I only swore once. No one really cried.

My wife reminded me that this happened last year on Christmas eve. I am not sure if this is a tradition...maybe it is when you have five kids? Long live the traditional English Christmas.

On Turning Ten...

2009-12-09T12:43:00.002-07:00

Yesterday was Mitchell's tenth birthday, and during the day of celebrating, I was reminded of a poem by Billy Collins:

On Turning Ten

The whole idea of it makes me feel
like I'm coming down with something,
something worse than any stomach ache
or the headaches I get from reading in bad light--
a kind of measles of the spirit,
a mumps of the psyche,
a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul.

You tell me it is too early to be looking back,
but that is because you have forgotten
the perfect simplicity of being one
and the beautiful complexity introduced by two.
But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit.
At four I was an Arabian wizard.
I could make myself invisible
by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.
At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.

But now I am mostly at the window
watching the late afternoon light.
Back then it never fell so solemnly
against the side of my tree house,
and my bicycle never leaned against the garage
as it does today,
all the dark blue speed drained out of it.

This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself,
as I walk through the universe in my sneakers.
It is time to say good-bye to my imaginary friends,
time to turn the first big number.

It seems only yesterday I used to believe
there was nothing under my skin but light.
If you cut me I could shine.
But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,
I skin my knees. I bleed.

- Billy Collins

I haven't blogged in a long time, but I couldn't help myself today. Our 10 year old son in a walking juxtaposition...he still mostly believes in Santa Claus, yet is starting to ask questions about "The Birds and the Bees". Is it possible that before the year is out, both of these "talks"? At this point, it seems likely that we will. How odd, to believe in Santa, and still need to have the "sex" talk with dad. The poem seemed to explain the feelings better than I could.

You mean to tell me you voted for that other guy?

2008-11-06T09:00:00.002-07:00

I have drawn a great deal of criticism from friends, neighbors etc. about my choice in the presidential elections. I voted for the donkey guy... before you all attack and tell me why I made the right or wrong choice, know that I did not choose lightly and it was not without a great deal of trepidation about both candidates.

All this is brought to you from somewhere in a dark hallway.

Sandcastles in the Sand

2008-08-19T21:54:00.005-06:00

You know...there is something therapeutic about making things out of giant piles of mud.

And if you are wondering about the title click on this link.

Sandcastles in the Sand

May Robyn sparkle down on the end of your summer too.

Am I Standing Still...

2008-02-07T14:30:00.000-07:00

I laughed all afternoon at this.

Dut da da dut da da Dora...

2008-01-23T13:55:00.000-07:00

I spent way too much time watching TV with my kids over the break. I can't help but see a similar pattern here. A friend pointed this out to me, and I thought others might enjoy. (Thanks Jordan)

Sometimes I feel an awful lot like Charlie...

What do I make anyway?

2008-01-18T12:27:00.000-07:00

I have been studying Marxist theory for the last week and wondered where I fit into it all. At least now I know, at least...sort of, what I make.

Poetry and Disc Golf

2008-01-17T11:30:00.000-07:00

I picked up an interesting hobby over the summer and find myself with a small bag of discs and an urge to throw them. Thought I would share a poem about it.

Freeman Park

The drunk his name is Bud, steps up to make
his throw: a God-damn backhand lazer beam 300
feet below. He shrugs still holding to the can
of beer in his left hand. He steps aside
as M. J. takes the pad. She breathes in deep,
she torques, unwinds from hip to head, exhales
sedated smoke that curls and rises up.
The fade is past the clump of pines, it lands
right next to Bud's. I move up for my shot,
still hoping to impress. Step, step, cross-step forward
I grunt as I let go. Wobbly at first
yet steady now, my forehand follow through
sshuck-clunk, I cringe, a ponderosa pine
26 feet above the ground, I guess
it's me who'll climb. Bud smiles, claps me
on the back and says, "all in good time."
A punk, the drunk, a stoner: disc golf at dusk
hole 10-par 4: four hundred fifty feet.

Another Early Morning

2007-11-27T13:18:00.000-07:00

In preparing for my poetry class this afternoon I read a poem that spoke to me and my early mornings. It is by Marianne Boruch

no one in the library this early

so it's all sleep, talkative
books silenced by their covers.
And xerox machines dreaming that
one rare uncopiable thing. And computers
still pinned to their home sites. Gladness is
human: none of that. Neither
is there sorrow, or sweetness, or--
no--no jubilation. And just to invite
tears into this place, one needs a full life
or at least one afternoon,
the traffic blinding someone
driving straight into the sun: Officer,
I just didn't see it. But is it solace?
Here? A quiet, clean corner. A book of poems
no one has touched for ten years. I open it
to the middle, a poem not
particularly good, maybe an afterthought
added the last few hours
before mailing off the manuscript.
Because one line, maybe
that one....

I suppose, that at least on occasion, insomnia is my friend.

"Do not taunt happy fun ball"

2007-11-05T12:19:00.000-07:00

I just can't help but wonder who else would be in trouble if all companies had to have disclaimers as extensive as R/X companies?

via the dark hallway

Chekhov, A Boring Story and a great class...

2007-10-26T11:49:00.000-06:00

"No argument, no amusement or gave ever gave me such pleasure as lecturing. Only while lecturing could I give myself entirely to passion and understand that inspiration is not an invention of poets but exists in reality. And I imagine that Hercules, after the most piquant of his great deeds, did not feel such sweet exhaustion as I experienced each time after a lecture" (Anton Chekhov, A Boring Story (64-65)).

When class goes well, it is a singular experience of pleasure. Today was a good day in class.

Fun Size Snickers Bars

2007-10-25T22:14:00.000-06:00

Maybe this is why I love the fall

My kids had a great time with the leaves and the unseasonably warm weather. I found myself wondering why I love the fall so much. After watching my kids play in the leaves today I have some idea. Yup...gotta be the fun size Snickers. (Anyone besides me notice that the "fun size" seems to be smaller each year?)

See if it plays...

2007-10-22T07:08:00.001-06:00

via thedarkhallway

Hard not to get a laugh out of Will. Just needed a smile this morning. I am very tired with a ton to do, so I will keep the blog entry short. I enjoyed reading/lurking on several other blogs this weekend. In particular I enjoyed reading "fish without faces" and "swirly patterns". I forgot how much I enjoyed their sense of humor. I sometimes forget that they are the intelligent/funny ones in the the family. I would be curious to know what blogs others lurk on so I can give them a try?

Oh does they?

2007-10-19T13:15:00.000-06:00

Does grammar really matter?

What would have to happen to add to President Bush's credibility?
via the dark hallway

Beware the Jabberwock...

2007-04-11T22:50:00.000-06:00

Green Logs...Greg was the first to share this poem with me.

Random thoughts

2007-03-27T11:01:00.000-06:00

Sometimes I Just Feel Like a Cog.

2007-03-14T08:21:00.000-06:00

Revels and River Demons

2007-01-20T14:51:00.000-07:00

On the 17th of June, 1673, the canoes of Joliet and Marquette and their five subordinates reached the junction of the Wisconsin with the Mississippi...Turning southward, they paddled down the stream, through a solitude unrelieved by the faintest trace of man. A big cat-fish collided with Marquette's canoe, and startled him...for he had been warned by the Indians that he was on a foolhardy journey, and even a fatal one, for the river contained a demon "whose roar could be heard at a great distance, and who would engulf them in the abyss where he dwelt."

Life on the Mississippi - Mark Twain

I was curious if Twain's river demons really existed. Apparently, in his day 6 foot catfish were regularly pulled out of the river with teams of horses. Happy fishing...

Christmas thoughts, nostalgia, and a pillow.

2006-12-24T20:10:00.000-07:00

The term was originally coined by Johannes Hofer, a medical student in 1678 (νόστος = nostos = returning home, άλγος = algos = pain/longing) roots, to refer to "the pain a sick person feels because he wishes to return to his native land, and fears never to see it again". This neologism was so successful that people forgot its origin. Moreover, its original meaning--referring to a serious medical disorder--has been lost as the word nostalgia entered everyday language.

During the period, from the late seventeenth century to the late nineteenth century, that doctors diagnosed and treated nostalgia, it also had other names in various languages — mal du pays (country sickness) in French, Heimweh (home-pain) in German, and el mal de corazón (heart-pain) in Spanish.

I am not sure that I would wish sickness or pain on anyone, but I would recommend that if you have even one good memory, at least for a few minutes, bathe in it. As I held a small heart shaped green and white velvet pillow that belonged to Grandmother, Mother, and then son, I fall peacefully ill for a few moments as I listen to the music box sewn into the pillow tick off the notes to "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" and experience generations of Christmas. And for a moment with grandparents, parents, and past...I belong.

Merry Christmas to those of you in the "Dark Hallway"...I always wondered where those guys at the mall came from...

2006-12-13T12:19:00.000-07:00

Via: VideoSift

For those of you out there, best regards, lots of laughs and at the very least...a long nap. If you like "scrubs" you will probably appreciate this.

2006-12-13T11:42:00.000-07:00

Via: A Dark Hallway Production

New Cigarette Warning for Those Who Are On "The List."

2006-12-11T14:21:00.000-07:00

Philip Morris: 'Please Talk To Your Cooler Children About Cigarettes'

December 6, 2006 | Issue 42•49

NEW YORK—Philip Morris, the largest manufacturer of tobacco products in the United States, released the first in a series of television commercials yesterday urging parents to take the time to educate their hipper, better looking, and more rebellious children about the dangers of smoking. "If your child is idolized by other kids, always gets the girls, and has no patience or respect for authority figures, please talk to him immediately about cigarettes," said the ad's narrator over a montage of Hollywood stars apparently smoking after intercourse. "Parents need to keep an eye on their charismatic and persuasive children, who are at the highest risk of smoking at an earlier age, when it's most respected by their peers." According to Philip Morris' new print-ad campaign running in Maxim and Sports Illustrated, it is unnecessary for parents to discuss the dangers of cigarettes with lame children who like board games, science, and their parents.

Is he on the list?

2006-12-08T07:09:00.001-07:00


Sunday Bloody Sunday...

Are you on the list?

2006-12-07T10:57:00.000-07:00

I have decided once again to embrace my inner geek...

Is life just a blur of diet pepsi, final exams, and tivo? Most of the people that I know seem to be living paycheck to paycheck; while I, on the other hand, am living paper to paper and final to final these days. I tell myself that I can survive anything for 2 weeks, I am not sure if I believe it anymore...

Oh well, I hope my superpower turns out to be insomnia this week, at least then I could get all of this done.

In case your curious I may make this my superhero symbol. It is the molecular structure for caffeine.

Loki