I'm back in full swing with student teaching, working at the center, and bishopric duties--all at full tilt. It's going well, but the all day--often 12 hour--schedule is pretty rough. The kids in my classes are pretty good though and it's funny to remember middle school. It is SO much different than high school. Here is a funny conversation I had with a student in my 4th hour class (keep in mind that this is 7th grade):
"Did you know that my brother and sister are models?"
To which I replied, "Hmm... that sounds an awful lot like a brag to me, wouldn't you say?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well--it's kind of like saying 'My parents are really rich!'"
"Oh. Well, my parents ARE rich!" she said with a giggle.
Silly girl.
My own son said this to me on my first day of being gone from 7am-9pm. He was in my room trying to fall asleep on my bed (this is the current protocol as the kids have a hard time falling asleep in the same room--they just talk to each other--so we just move Seth into his own bed when he falls asleep) and this is what he said when I told him I had been missing him all day:
"I've been missing you too, Daddy--'cause you are a really great man."
At least somebody thinks I am.
He said something else funny a little while ago that he must have seen on a commercial for Go-gurts. He said that he really needed to get them because (and then he quoted from the commercial exactly) "kids on the go need Go-gurts to grow, Daddy."
I thought that was pretty funny.
One good thing about my student teaching situation at the moment is that since its 7th grade and there is a heavy emphasis on reading, the kids spend a lot of time in class doing required silent reading. I have already finished one book in the four days I've been here because of this extra reading time (My Name Is Asher Lev--I'll comment more on this book later--I absolutely loved it) and am almost finished with a thin Steinbeck novel (The Red Pony). It's nice to just read. It's also awesome that my mentor teacher is so chill and doesn't make me pretend to be doing something more productive when there isn't anything to do. In fact, I am typing this during our third hour prep. While very time consuming, this semester should be pretty low-key...which is exactly how I wanted it.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Guide to 2006
I wanted to get my two cents in on my greatest influences in music, film, and books during 2006 as it seemed a year of shifts and new experiences. You may or may not notice that many of these things were not new in 2006, rather they were new to me in 2006.
Music:
- Alison Krauss and Union Station featuring Jerry Douglas- I posted about my discovery of this great singer and bluegrass band earlier in the year and my respect and love for the music, especially as egged on by Dave Bertoglio, has only grown. Alison Krauss and her band have been around forever, so they are nothing new, per se, but for some reason, their music just clicked for me this year. It’s funny, because there were inklings years ago that I might like this kind of music when Oh Brother, Where Art Thou? and their song “Man of Constant Sorrow” came out way back in 2000 (There exists a video tape of me and Nick singing this tune together at my parent’s house in
- Sufjan Stevens- At the end of 2005, I had only just begun listening to the radio program All Songs Considered and was officially hooked on it after listening to their annual “best songs of the year” countdown. Sufjan’s 4th album
- Iron & Wine- One of the shifts that occurred for me this year was a shift toward more quiet, acoustic music. In addition to the five groups listed here, I have found myself listening to more classical and jazz music and spending much more time with my own acoustic guitar (I even bought a new one this year!). Iron & Wine is, essentially a guy named Sam Beam. And while he is in the same genre (maybe) as some of the other artists that I have mentioned here, I think that he is very different. His music is almost like a whisper when compared to these other groups. I love it. His collaboration with Tucson’s Calexico and the album that they produced (In the Reins) along with Beam’s 2004 album Endless Numbered Days got top spots in Ipod consumed tunage this year.
- Jose Gonzales- Gonzales was a late entry for me, but he stuck fast. I don’t quite know what it is about his 2005 album Veneer that moves me—especially since I am usually not very complimentary towards overly short albums (his clocks in at just over 30 minutes). But it does—move me, I mean. The songs are short and soft, but they are intense. His guitar playing, which is entirely done on a classical guitar, is droning and full and his voice is melodic and has a comforting quality to it. Besides Alison Krauss, his music is the easiest for me to recommend and it has almost universal likability. I missed seeing him in concert at a very small venue in
- James Taylor’s complete catalog (instead of just his ever-present Greatest Hits album) has come to be much more meaningful to me this year(especially songs like: “Don’t Be Sad ‘Cause Your Son is Down” and “Frozen Man” but with new respect for “Sweet Baby James”). I have always been a fan, but JT has now moved to everyday listening status.
- The Decemberists- In a lot of ways, Collin Meloy is, for me, this year’s Ben Gibbard (Death Cab for Cutie/Postal Service). The dudes look like they could be brothers, but this added to the fact that they both sport high tenor voices and front post-Indie rock bands kind of seals the deal. The two artists’ music, though, is quite different. The Decemberists are to Irish seafaring folk music what the Postal Service are to the Pet Shop boys. My dad would be proud to know that with the help of bands like the Decemberists, the accordion is making a comeback.
- John Mayer’s “Stop this Train” Off the 2006 album Continuum (also a big album for me last year), might just be my favorite song of the year. For some reason, the lyrics to this song got to me. I think it may have something to do with the fact that John Mayer and I are nearly the same age (he is only four months older), share the same first name (which he refers to in the third person in this song), and it is a song about getting older and not knowing what to make of it. Plus it is one of those songs that you can listen to over and over without getting tired of it. John Mayer is consistent—but he always manages to be innovative as well. I loved his Trio album—who can’t get behind a lyric like “Gravity is working against me; gravity always gets me down”?—and (maybe minus “Waiting on the World to Change”) really love Continuum. I also just found out that he was nominated for 5 Grammys this year.
- Gnarls Barkley’s “Crazy”- Is Gnarls Barkley a fad band? Probably. Was “Crazy” one of the best songs of 2006? Absolutely.
I don’t know that I can go to one or really even a group of movies as being stand out for me this year, but thought I should mention that due to the amazing Tivo ability to search and record any movie you may have ever wanted to watch in your entire life—ever. So, this year, I have tried to watch as many of the classics as I could find.
Tina and I have also enjoyed 24, Lost, Heroes, Scrubs, and only recently (technically not qualifying for this 2006 report) the Office.
While you might think that a Literature major would have read a lot of books in the past year…well you’d be right. I read like crazy last year. My favorites were: Moby Dick, Empire Grill,
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Let's go away for a while...Holiday update
Tonight, finally: a lull. It has been a busy season. Classes ended for me on the 15th, and with what I thought would be another successful semester in the hole (and it was! Straight As and summa cum laude are now mine!), I started the process of—one by one—finalizing my applications for graduate school. Wisconsin Madison, Pitt and the U of A were all due on the 15th, Rensselaer was due on the 1st and I tossed the application for Texas in the mail this afternoon (hoping that the Ford holiday doesn’t foul up the postmark requirement). It has been a good time here in Tucson—though it’s hard not to miss my family during Christmas. Here is an excerpt by Dave of a letter to Scott on his mission that sums up a lot of the holiday activities:
Well, we had a snow adventure yesterday. With all the rain (and consequently snow) recently there was a bunch of snow on Mt. Lemmon. We had gone up to Mesa Friday for a doctor appointment for Maryn and went to the temple. On the way back to Tucson, we stopped at Matt and Mindy’s house and they loaned Tina a few things for the snow; boots, gloves (“glums” Seth calls them), bibs and a cool sled which is like a boogie board with handles. So we left home about 3:30 and passed hundreds of cars pulled off the side of the road as low as Bear Canyon picnic area. We trudged on up to the Mt. Bigelow road to the meadow there. There weren’t as many cars there but the road was icy and we drove up as far as we could and then parked and walked a hundred yards or so. You might recall that the meadow is in the shade and when the wind blew, the snow on the tree branches came down on us. Yeah, it was cold. But Seth loved it and rode down the hill on the sled with Jon several times (he made a snow angel with Rachel too). He would dig his heels in at the bottom to stop and spray them both with snow. I took Maryn down a short version of the hill and she liked it too. Jon HAD to start at the road above us and go all the way down by himself. When he hit the first bump he caught some glorious air and landed hard on his coccyx (pronounced “kok-kicks”). He was injured… injured bad… and is sore today. Carlie and Trevor came up and met us there and Trevor rode down the hill a couple of times. It was very fun but Seth was very sad that we did not build a snowman. But it was getting colder and dark (and Mom and the sisters had about had it) and the snow was pretty powdery. Besides, we pretty much had had all the fun we wanted to have. At one of the pull outs someone had made a very cute snowman and people were lining up to have their picture taken beside it (On the ride down we drove into the sunset up to a long line of cars lined up at the Houghton/Catalina highway intersection. Maryn screamed the whole way. My theory is sore ears from altitude change. But when we got home Mom made TWO kinds of soups to warm us up (clam chowder and ham and potato). Yum.
We have been doing some serious chillaxing here these days. Playing Mexican train (a domino game), Settlers of Catan, Apples to Apples, watching DVDs, playing Nintendo (including Mom’s favorite, Tetris), staying up late, getting up late and eating… a lot. On the Jon Stone Coke Zero can count, he is currently at about 35 for the vacation. He is hoping for a record. He also is rockin’ on Picmin 2 (a game he claims he bought for you last time they were down—it was only $10 at Circuit City). This week we are going to paint over the drywall repairs that Handy Manny George made for us and probably put the decorations away. Seth loves to play Nintendo. Just give him a controller (plugged in or not) and he will have a great time. He also loves the DVD “The Polar Express” and we have already watched it while drinking hot chocolate. It’s his new favorite movie.
Anyway—back to Mesa tomorrow. The Illinois application is due postmarked by Friday and then it starts again on the 15th. Writing these letters and spending so much time looking at the University websites and faculty articles that have been published is making me excited at the prospects of getting in somewhere. Every school that I have applied to has its virtues and so far I haven’t felt like I have wasted any time or money (though the money thing is huge—I figure that by the end of the process it will have cost us as much as a semester in school costs to apply to grad school.). It’s hard not to dread the possibility of not getting in anywhere. Another seminary-like rejection. We found something out, though, recently that helped to curb some of that dread. We discovered that school districts in Texas hire teachers for almost 10K more per year than they do in Arizona (around 38K a year) and housing there is half as expensive. This perked me up a bit—all that I have really wanted in all of this is to have a job that I enjoy that pays enough for us to be able to buy a house and not have Tina work. So, it looks like we have a very viable plan B.
So that is the update. Stay tuned above for the best of 2006 entry. Coming soon.
Well, we had a snow adventure yesterday. With all the rain (and consequently snow) recently there was a bunch of snow on Mt. Lemmon. We had gone up to Mesa Friday for a doctor appointment for Maryn and went to the temple. On the way back to Tucson, we stopped at Matt and Mindy’s house and they loaned Tina a few things for the snow; boots, gloves (“glums” Seth calls them), bibs and a cool sled which is like a boogie board with handles. So we left home about 3:30 and passed hundreds of cars pulled off the side of the road as low as Bear Canyon picnic area. We trudged on up to the Mt. Bigelow road to the meadow there. There weren’t as many cars there but the road was icy and we drove up as far as we could and then parked and walked a hundred yards or so. You might recall that the meadow is in the shade and when the wind blew, the snow on the tree branches came down on us. Yeah, it was cold. But Seth loved it and rode down the hill on the sled with Jon several times (he made a snow angel with Rachel too). He would dig his heels in at the bottom to stop and spray them both with snow. I took Maryn down a short version of the hill and she liked it too. Jon HAD to start at the road above us and go all the way down by himself. When he hit the first bump he caught some glorious air and landed hard on his coccyx (pronounced “kok-kicks”). He was injured… injured bad… and is sore today. Carlie and Trevor came up and met us there and Trevor rode down the hill a couple of times. It was very fun but Seth was very sad that we did not build a snowman. But it was getting colder and dark (and Mom and the sisters had about had it) and the snow was pretty powdery. Besides, we pretty much had had all the fun we wanted to have. At one of the pull outs someone had made a very cute snowman and people were lining up to have their picture taken beside it (On the ride down we drove into the sunset up to a long line of cars lined up at the Houghton/Catalina highway intersection. Maryn screamed the whole way. My theory is sore ears from altitude change. But when we got home Mom made TWO kinds of soups to warm us up (clam chowder and ham and potato). Yum.
We have been doing some serious chillaxing here these days. Playing Mexican train (a domino game), Settlers of Catan, Apples to Apples, watching DVDs, playing Nintendo (including Mom’s favorite, Tetris), staying up late, getting up late and eating… a lot. On the Jon Stone Coke Zero can count, he is currently at about 35 for the vacation. He is hoping for a record. He also is rockin’ on Picmin 2 (a game he claims he bought for you last time they were down—it was only $10 at Circuit City). This week we are going to paint over the drywall repairs that Handy Manny George made for us and probably put the decorations away. Seth loves to play Nintendo. Just give him a controller (plugged in or not) and he will have a great time. He also loves the DVD “The Polar Express” and we have already watched it while drinking hot chocolate. It’s his new favorite movie.
Anyway—back to Mesa tomorrow. The Illinois application is due postmarked by Friday and then it starts again on the 15th. Writing these letters and spending so much time looking at the University websites and faculty articles that have been published is making me excited at the prospects of getting in somewhere. Every school that I have applied to has its virtues and so far I haven’t felt like I have wasted any time or money (though the money thing is huge—I figure that by the end of the process it will have cost us as much as a semester in school costs to apply to grad school.). It’s hard not to dread the possibility of not getting in anywhere. Another seminary-like rejection. We found something out, though, recently that helped to curb some of that dread. We discovered that school districts in Texas hire teachers for almost 10K more per year than they do in Arizona (around 38K a year) and housing there is half as expensive. This perked me up a bit—all that I have really wanted in all of this is to have a job that I enjoy that pays enough for us to be able to buy a house and not have Tina work. So, it looks like we have a very viable plan B.
So that is the update. Stay tuned above for the best of 2006 entry. Coming soon.
Monday, December 11, 2006
Radiohead dissertation pipe dreams
I haven't posted in a while. I have been so busy with life and school and such. As I am finishing up the first two of the fifteen graduate program applications (University of Wisconsin, Madison and University of Pittsburgh: both due Dec 15), I came across this posted on one of Madison's student's web logs:
And I’ve often had the nagging thought that one could, if one wanted to, place the trajectory of Radiohead’s career up against my maturation as a reader. Not unlike the recording of the sounds in Brandon’s room as they wound up superimposed over Pablo Honey. (These are the thoughts of super-fandom—thoughts that, once written down, aren’t just cringe-worthy, but are downright sickening). I’ll admit it, I’ve thought to myself: “The narrative impulse behind the traditional rock formula that drives The Bends speaks to my realism-driven style of reading, one that requires texts to be clear, well-framed windows onto a coherent, objective event. You know, like folksy, narrative rock songs. OK Computer complicates this in interesting ways by not only providing a commentary on our contemporary hyper-media-saturated frustrations, but by also experimenting with more expressive and performative venues through which to enact those hyper-media-saturated frustrations. Kid A messes with this even further by embracing the artificiality of our hyper-media-saturated historical moment and providing opportunities to occupy expressions that are simultaneously deliriously happy and frustratingly violent within that constructed environment. Meanwhile, Amnesiac and Hail to the Thief ask us to shape responsible ways of living within those hyper-media-saturated conditions.” Oh, yes, these are the artifacts of super-fandom.
All this is to illustrate the shape of the Radiohead essay I’ve always wanted to write. Since I’ve been thinking about dissertations a lot lately, I’ve thought about the essay in even grander ways: a book with chapters each dedicated to one album, unpacking each song in ways that provide a method for reading that we would be able to see a younger Adam beginning to shape. It would be BuildungsRoman meets critical theory. Then I blink those thoughts away.
Not until I recently read an article by Mark Greif in n + 1’s third issue (an older issue, I know, but I’m slow to these sorts of things) did I think I could write that essay in a way that would make anybody care. I found myself reading his essay, “Radiohead, or the Philosophy of Pop” with skepticism at first, thinking to myself, dammit, why didn’t I write this?! Then, on second read, I began to see some of the approaches he makes toward Radiohead as, well, downright honest, tiny gems.
There’s an unrest present in Radiohead that many are quick to notice. They have made an art out of packaging panic and using the soundscape of popular rock against itself, while trying to identify what sort of will listeners can retain while complicit within that soundscape. My results often end up something akin to a cynical shrug: yep, contemporary pop music is damned, so I might as well go down with the ship. Rarely do I get the satisfaction Greif manages to carve out in his essay.
He puts his finger on it, I think, when he uses Hail to the Thief to illustrate how Radiohead tries to coax the listener into not just commentator on, but as active participant in the political ramifications inherent in a media-saturated culture mediated by the artificiality of the modes used to provide form to cultural artifact. Radiohead isn’t just saying “look at how screwed up it all is;” they’re also saying, “learn how to ‘consume’ responsibly.” I find this very helpful when listening to Radiohead on the bus, after a long day at work, using their music as a form of escapism.
I’m just wondering, though, if such a philosophy comes equipped with a methodology coherent enough to provide way(s) of navigating such consumption. Or if its enough for a philosophy of pop merely to point out that we must, in some nebulous way, be more responsible consumers. I’m uneasy with both of those positions, but feel as if the repercussions are far-reaching and important, well, necessary to fashioning a philosophy of pop. All this is to say: how can a philosophy of pop provide a method that doesn’t expire with the relevancy of the pop (music, culture, etc.) used to construct it?
This is the kind of stuff that I hope to one day be able to write. Even though he is almost in jest--it's still awesome.
And I’ve often had the nagging thought that one could, if one wanted to, place the trajectory of Radiohead’s career up against my maturation as a reader. Not unlike the recording of the sounds in Brandon’s room as they wound up superimposed over Pablo Honey. (These are the thoughts of super-fandom—thoughts that, once written down, aren’t just cringe-worthy, but are downright sickening). I’ll admit it, I’ve thought to myself: “The narrative impulse behind the traditional rock formula that drives The Bends speaks to my realism-driven style of reading, one that requires texts to be clear, well-framed windows onto a coherent, objective event. You know, like folksy, narrative rock songs. OK Computer complicates this in interesting ways by not only providing a commentary on our contemporary hyper-media-saturated frustrations, but by also experimenting with more expressive and performative venues through which to enact those hyper-media-saturated frustrations. Kid A messes with this even further by embracing the artificiality of our hyper-media-saturated historical moment and providing opportunities to occupy expressions that are simultaneously deliriously happy and frustratingly violent within that constructed environment. Meanwhile, Amnesiac and Hail to the Thief ask us to shape responsible ways of living within those hyper-media-saturated conditions.” Oh, yes, these are the artifacts of super-fandom.
All this is to illustrate the shape of the Radiohead essay I’ve always wanted to write. Since I’ve been thinking about dissertations a lot lately, I’ve thought about the essay in even grander ways: a book with chapters each dedicated to one album, unpacking each song in ways that provide a method for reading that we would be able to see a younger Adam beginning to shape. It would be BuildungsRoman meets critical theory. Then I blink those thoughts away.
Not until I recently read an article by Mark Greif in n + 1’s third issue (an older issue, I know, but I’m slow to these sorts of things) did I think I could write that essay in a way that would make anybody care. I found myself reading his essay, “Radiohead, or the Philosophy of Pop” with skepticism at first, thinking to myself, dammit, why didn’t I write this?! Then, on second read, I began to see some of the approaches he makes toward Radiohead as, well, downright honest, tiny gems.
There’s an unrest present in Radiohead that many are quick to notice. They have made an art out of packaging panic and using the soundscape of popular rock against itself, while trying to identify what sort of will listeners can retain while complicit within that soundscape. My results often end up something akin to a cynical shrug: yep, contemporary pop music is damned, so I might as well go down with the ship. Rarely do I get the satisfaction Greif manages to carve out in his essay.
He puts his finger on it, I think, when he uses Hail to the Thief to illustrate how Radiohead tries to coax the listener into not just commentator on, but as active participant in the political ramifications inherent in a media-saturated culture mediated by the artificiality of the modes used to provide form to cultural artifact. Radiohead isn’t just saying “look at how screwed up it all is;” they’re also saying, “learn how to ‘consume’ responsibly.” I find this very helpful when listening to Radiohead on the bus, after a long day at work, using their music as a form of escapism.
I’m just wondering, though, if such a philosophy comes equipped with a methodology coherent enough to provide way(s) of navigating such consumption. Or if its enough for a philosophy of pop merely to point out that we must, in some nebulous way, be more responsible consumers. I’m uneasy with both of those positions, but feel as if the repercussions are far-reaching and important, well, necessary to fashioning a philosophy of pop. All this is to say: how can a philosophy of pop provide a method that doesn’t expire with the relevancy of the pop (music, culture, etc.) used to construct it?
This is the kind of stuff that I hope to one day be able to write. Even though he is almost in jest--it's still awesome.
Friday, September 15, 2006
Waste Your Time on My Dime (part two)
Today is the music edition of Waste Your Time on My Dime (part 2, I guess). I am currently going through a gigantic list of vocabulary words—trying to study them for the GRE that I am taking in three weeks. I can’t believe how quickly it has crept up on me…so anyway, this is my noontime reprieve.
NPR’s All Songs Considered
Since discovering this show as a podcast a year or so ago (in fact I think that it was last Christmastime’s “Best Songs of the Year” show that got me hooked), I have listened to it almost every single week. Today as I have been studying, I have been catching up on the last several weeks of the program and am again reminded how much I enjoy it. Bob Boilen, the host and DJ of the program, is a musician himself and unlike most radio personalities, his genuine tastes and interests are articulated in a way that make the listener want to be fans of the songs that he plays. His show is a wonderful mix of the old and the new. He takes time to give histories and make musical connections—often genealogies—of the songs and artists that he plays. This week’s show, for example, highlights the work of contemporary folk musician M. Ward. The show is awesome, though, because first, M. Ward himself is a guest DJ. Bob Boilan, a genuine fan of M. Ward asks questions of the musician that fans would want to know. M. Ward is also given the opportunity to play music that interests him which leads to an exploration of songs by Roy Orbison, the Beach Boys, My Morning Jacket and others. But again, the show is great because it peels the musical layers that are always present in recorded music back and allows the listener to peak into the cracks. Also, the concert series is both extensive and supurb. Really, really cool stuff.
Last.fm
Last.fm is many things. First and foremost it is an audioscrobbler database which means, basically, that, with your permission, it collects information from your computer’s audio player (WMP or Itunes) as you play your music and tabulates which artists and tracks you are listening to most and organizes this information in a fun format on their website. The fun part of this process is that it then connects you with people who share your same musical interests and you can check out the groups that they are listening to that you may not have heard of—so it is a gateway to finding new music. Also, you can have “friends” which allows me to see what my buddies are listening to. (Who would have thunk that Aaron Bell was a Justin Timberlake fan?) Finally, if you are away from a computer that has all of your music on it, you can listen to last.fm radio which plays tracks that it thinks you might like based on the music you are listening to that it has collected. Amazing! View my profile at http://www.last.fm/user/jwstone/
Pitchfork Media
Pitchfork is a music news site that focuses on—well—I don’t really know how to describe it. It’s not really what I would call an “indie” music website, although the majority of what it reviews and critiques might be considered independent. Honestly, I am not familiar with the majority of the bands that are highlighted by Pitchfork (I am not very cool, you know), but I do know that when I am familiar (or want to become familiar) with the bands, the writing is excellent and the reviews are fresh, honest and often really funny.
KEXP
KEXP is a Seattle based independent radio station that it just completely and totally cool. The website has a live, streaming radio feed which makes it a great place to hear new bands and old favorites.
Finally, there are a few (usually fan produced) band websites out there that I consider to be exceptional.
Chain of Flowers is the most comprehensive web source for Cure fans that I have ever come across. During times of high band activity, there is something new and cool almost everyday on the site. My favorite things about Chain of Flowers include the news section (of course) but also include things like the database of what has gotten played during specific tours and tour dates over the years. Anybody wonder what songs they played during the Phoenix tour of the Prayer tour? Chain of Flowers will tell you.
Green Plastic is a Radiohead website that allows for more straightforward access to Radiohead information than their official site allows. It is well done for many of the same reasons that Chain of Flowers is well done.
Ben Folds's official site is one of the few label based websites that I really like. The best part about it are the pictures that have been taken by Ben and his band on the road.
Weezer.com is another really great label based website. The only reason that it remains to be so good is that it is still written and maintained by Weezer side-kick Karl Koch. It used to be better—back when Weezer used to be better—but it is still a reliable source for the =w= fan in you. I do miss the old "Karl's Corner" days, though.
Finally, I have to mention Myspace’s one good quality. When Jon and I were playing around town with Lancaster a year or so ago, Myspace became a very useful tool of local music discovery and networking. There are some really great bands to discover in the Valley (and in your city too) if you look around a bit. Can’t say that I am really into Myspace as a social networking tool, though. Too much stupid crap out there that I don’t want to look at on people’s sites.
NPR’s All Songs Considered
Since discovering this show as a podcast a year or so ago (in fact I think that it was last Christmastime’s “Best Songs of the Year” show that got me hooked), I have listened to it almost every single week. Today as I have been studying, I have been catching up on the last several weeks of the program and am again reminded how much I enjoy it. Bob Boilen, the host and DJ of the program, is a musician himself and unlike most radio personalities, his genuine tastes and interests are articulated in a way that make the listener want to be fans of the songs that he plays. His show is a wonderful mix of the old and the new. He takes time to give histories and make musical connections—often genealogies—of the songs and artists that he plays. This week’s show, for example, highlights the work of contemporary folk musician M. Ward. The show is awesome, though, because first, M. Ward himself is a guest DJ. Bob Boilan, a genuine fan of M. Ward asks questions of the musician that fans would want to know. M. Ward is also given the opportunity to play music that interests him which leads to an exploration of songs by Roy Orbison, the Beach Boys, My Morning Jacket and others. But again, the show is great because it peels the musical layers that are always present in recorded music back and allows the listener to peak into the cracks. Also, the concert series is both extensive and supurb. Really, really cool stuff.
Last.fm
Last.fm is many things. First and foremost it is an audioscrobbler database which means, basically, that, with your permission, it collects information from your computer’s audio player (WMP or Itunes) as you play your music and tabulates which artists and tracks you are listening to most and organizes this information in a fun format on their website. The fun part of this process is that it then connects you with people who share your same musical interests and you can check out the groups that they are listening to that you may not have heard of—so it is a gateway to finding new music. Also, you can have “friends” which allows me to see what my buddies are listening to. (Who would have thunk that Aaron Bell was a Justin Timberlake fan?) Finally, if you are away from a computer that has all of your music on it, you can listen to last.fm radio which plays tracks that it thinks you might like based on the music you are listening to that it has collected. Amazing! View my profile at http://www.last.fm/user/jwstone/
Pitchfork Media
Pitchfork is a music news site that focuses on—well—I don’t really know how to describe it. It’s not really what I would call an “indie” music website, although the majority of what it reviews and critiques might be considered independent. Honestly, I am not familiar with the majority of the bands that are highlighted by Pitchfork (I am not very cool, you know), but I do know that when I am familiar (or want to become familiar) with the bands, the writing is excellent and the reviews are fresh, honest and often really funny.
KEXP
KEXP is a Seattle based independent radio station that it just completely and totally cool. The website has a live, streaming radio feed which makes it a great place to hear new bands and old favorites.
Finally, there are a few (usually fan produced) band websites out there that I consider to be exceptional.
Chain of Flowers is the most comprehensive web source for Cure fans that I have ever come across. During times of high band activity, there is something new and cool almost everyday on the site. My favorite things about Chain of Flowers include the news section (of course) but also include things like the database of what has gotten played during specific tours and tour dates over the years. Anybody wonder what songs they played during the Phoenix tour of the Prayer tour? Chain of Flowers will tell you.
Green Plastic is a Radiohead website that allows for more straightforward access to Radiohead information than their official site allows. It is well done for many of the same reasons that Chain of Flowers is well done.
Ben Folds's official site is one of the few label based websites that I really like. The best part about it are the pictures that have been taken by Ben and his band on the road.
Weezer.com is another really great label based website. The only reason that it remains to be so good is that it is still written and maintained by Weezer side-kick Karl Koch. It used to be better—back when Weezer used to be better—but it is still a reliable source for the =w= fan in you. I do miss the old "Karl's Corner" days, though.
Finally, I have to mention Myspace’s one good quality. When Jon and I were playing around town with Lancaster a year or so ago, Myspace became a very useful tool of local music discovery and networking. There are some really great bands to discover in the Valley (and in your city too) if you look around a bit. Can’t say that I am really into Myspace as a social networking tool, though. Too much stupid crap out there that I don’t want to look at on people’s sites.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Waste Your Time on My Dime (part one)
I was thinking today about some of the magical things on the web that serve to distract me from doing productive things. This will be the movie edition of two other such posts to follow.
IMDB- If you love movies and don’t know about this site, then you should be ashamed of yourself. IMDB is the ultimate. You can search for movies by actor, director, writer, you name it! My favorite thing about IMDB is the trivia section that gives, well, trivia about the filming, script and behind the scenes factoids that movie nerds may be interested in. Dave Bertoglio loves the “goofs” section. It has rewards for the close watcher: continuity problems, on-screen set pieces, missing or mis-robed costume pieces (For example: When the Millennium Falcon is inside the worm and a tremor makes Princess Leia fall on Han Solo she says, "Captain, being held by you isn't quite enough to get me excited", Han Solo is mouthing her line. The original trilogy is absolutely rife with mistakes.), etc.
Dark Horizons- A movie junkie’s haven. This site has information on new movies, deals, trailers, interviews, rumors, etc. The writing is clever and well done and the focus is on the art of film making rather than the “stars.” In other words, this isn’t Access Hollywood or ET.
Kids in Mind- For those of us fed up with the MPAA’s twisted and corrupt rating system, this site gives the reader a break down of the movies content in three categories: Sex, Violence and Language. Each of these categories receives a rating from zero to ten (zero for nothing, ten for a vast abundance of). Pirates of the Caribbean received a 3.7.2, for example, whereas Nacho Libre got a 3.4.3. Then, each and every potentially objectionable part of the movie is explained (sterilely) so that an educated decision can be made about the movies appropriateness for varying audiences.
Rotten Tomatoes- We love Rotten Tomatoes at our house! This is the end of the line when it comes to the movie critical mass. Basically, the idea here is the collection and distribution of professional critic’s opinions of a movie’s watchability. Is your time better spent, as my brother-in-law Brandon is known to say, staring at a blank wall? Each review is assigned a positive or a negative value and a percentage is tabulated based on those numbers. If the total percentage exceeds 60%, the movie is considered “fresh” if it is below that, the movie is, of course, “rotten.” Never waste your money on a crappy movie again!
IMDB- If you love movies and don’t know about this site, then you should be ashamed of yourself. IMDB is the ultimate. You can search for movies by actor, director, writer, you name it! My favorite thing about IMDB is the trivia section that gives, well, trivia about the filming, script and behind the scenes factoids that movie nerds may be interested in. Dave Bertoglio loves the “goofs” section. It has rewards for the close watcher: continuity problems, on-screen set pieces, missing or mis-robed costume pieces (For example: When the Millennium Falcon is inside the worm and a tremor makes Princess Leia fall on Han Solo she says, "Captain, being held by you isn't quite enough to get me excited", Han Solo is mouthing her line. The original trilogy is absolutely rife with mistakes.), etc.
Dark Horizons- A movie junkie’s haven. This site has information on new movies, deals, trailers, interviews, rumors, etc. The writing is clever and well done and the focus is on the art of film making rather than the “stars.” In other words, this isn’t Access Hollywood or ET.
Kids in Mind- For those of us fed up with the MPAA’s twisted and corrupt rating system, this site gives the reader a break down of the movies content in three categories: Sex, Violence and Language. Each of these categories receives a rating from zero to ten (zero for nothing, ten for a vast abundance of). Pirates of the Caribbean received a 3.7.2, for example, whereas Nacho Libre got a 3.4.3. Then, each and every potentially objectionable part of the movie is explained (sterilely) so that an educated decision can be made about the movies appropriateness for varying audiences.
Rotten Tomatoes- We love Rotten Tomatoes at our house! This is the end of the line when it comes to the movie critical mass. Basically, the idea here is the collection and distribution of professional critic’s opinions of a movie’s watchability. Is your time better spent, as my brother-in-law Brandon is known to say, staring at a blank wall? Each review is assigned a positive or a negative value and a percentage is tabulated based on those numbers. If the total percentage exceeds 60%, the movie is considered “fresh” if it is below that, the movie is, of course, “rotten.” Never waste your money on a crappy movie again!
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Whaling in the 115 degree Desert
Its been a month or so since my last post and how I long for lazy summer days. Since my last post, I have finished my summer Shakespeare course (Merchant of Venice, King Lear, Measure for Measure, Henry VIII, and Much Ado for those of you keeping score), and make the trek up to my folk's house in American Fork. A few things about that first:
For the first time ever, I opened my eyes to that gorgeous drive. From the low desert of Phoenix to the forest environs of Flag to the high desert and strange reds, oranges and grays of Cameron and the gaping mouth of ole Grandy herself. Page, Glen Canyon, Kanab, Mount Carmel, oh my! I would imagine that living couched between Glen Canyon, Zion’s park and only hours away from the Grand Canyon would be every cliff junkie’s dream. I love how as you drive up the 89, between Mount Carmel and the 70 turn off, a creek (pronounced in my home town of Logan, UT as “crick”) accompanies you running north for miles and miles, not to mention the grassy mountain meadows and groves. Anyway—I am glad I finally noticed that.
My parents' house was lovely. It was so nice to relax and enjoy their company. Dad took us to see Nacho Libre--a highlight to be sure. "Choncho--when you are a man...sometimes you wear stretchy pants. It's for fun."
Tina and I did something different this trip. We listened to a book on CD. Chaim Potok’s The Chosen to be precise. It was a nice experience, an enjoyable novel and a great way to pass the time. Even better—I can count it as one of my Young Adult Fiction novels in this upcoming semester’s class. I also finished Richard Russo’s Empire Falls—-a great East of Eden-esque family epic. I really enjoyed it. I love books about regular people with regular problems. It takes a talented writer to make those regular things seem important and significant—-a lot like the way that we view our own lives: the significance is in the regularity. Anyway, I recommend it, oh thou thousands of my readership. Russo is the kind of author that inspires young wannabes like me to start writing that novel that they say everybody thinks that they have in them. I actually have what I think is a pretty good idea. Just like everybody else.
Another book I have finally been able to put a significant dent in because of the marvelous invention and never tiring vocal chords of the magnificent audiobook is Herman Melville’s Moby Dick (careful not to forget the ‘r’ in Herman, lest the old coot become He-man, which is actually not a bad nickname for someone with such magnanimous prose-power—“By the Power of Great-White-Skull!”). If you have never read, or never gotten past the first chapter of Ahab’s Monomaniacal Adventure here is a brief synopsis of what to expect: one chapter of excellent, steady moving plot between four chapters of another book titled Everything You Ever Cared To Know About Whaling’s Guide For Suckers Who Thought They Were Reading Moby Dick, One of America’s Treasures. It’s some heavy stuff--seriously, if you want to learn how to decapitate a sperm whale, Melville's your man. But—again, give me an hour in the car and I can knock off a good five chapters! Ahoy me hardies!
In other news, I am back to the grind of the grad school pursuit. I have narrowed my search to 10 or 12 schools and am feeling pretty good about my choices. The kicker becomes this whole GRE thing. I have good grades: a 4.0 over the last two years at ASU of my English and ed. studies, I think that I have a fairly decent writing sample and the ability to write decent personal statements—but that dang GRE! Why must it reveal my averageness when I have done so much to cover it up!? I bit the bullet and have been taking a $400 dollar prep course. As soon as I can actually talk myself out of my deranged osmosis-will-suffice study habits, I may actually make some good use of the money spent there.
Also of summer importance: the Rentals and Ozma—-two of the greatest summer bands of my youth have reunited and are touring the country together playing such favorites as Eponine (yeah, I know that is an ’03 clip, but such editing and sound quality!) and I Just Threw Out the Love of My Dreams (I know, not good editing OR sound quality—but that’s Rachel Haden and she is singing one of my favorite songs of all time with the heart and soul of Weezer, one Matt Sharp [parenthesis within a parenthesis—-yeah! See my "What Happened to Weezer" article--this blog's first post]). Ozma reminds me of being married with no kids which meant still being a kid which was fun but seems so long ago. For me they are the perfect punk-pop band--different from Weezer becasue when I first met them they were just kids. Plus, who wouldn't love a band who write songs about Back to the Future, Zelda, Natalie Portman and cover the Tetris theme? The Rentals remind me of being 18 and being a kid but feeling like an adult—-like I knew everything. Matt Sharp was always the funnest thing about seeing Weezer play. Both are great bands: if they come to your town you should go so you can tell me about it because they are coming here on a Sunday!
For the first time ever, I opened my eyes to that gorgeous drive. From the low desert of Phoenix to the forest environs of Flag to the high desert and strange reds, oranges and grays of Cameron and the gaping mouth of ole Grandy herself. Page, Glen Canyon, Kanab, Mount Carmel, oh my! I would imagine that living couched between Glen Canyon, Zion’s park and only hours away from the Grand Canyon would be every cliff junkie’s dream. I love how as you drive up the 89, between Mount Carmel and the 70 turn off, a creek (pronounced in my home town of Logan, UT as “crick”) accompanies you running north for miles and miles, not to mention the grassy mountain meadows and groves. Anyway—I am glad I finally noticed that.
My parents' house was lovely. It was so nice to relax and enjoy their company. Dad took us to see Nacho Libre--a highlight to be sure. "Choncho--when you are a man...sometimes you wear stretchy pants. It's for fun."
Tina and I did something different this trip. We listened to a book on CD. Chaim Potok’s The Chosen to be precise. It was a nice experience, an enjoyable novel and a great way to pass the time. Even better—I can count it as one of my Young Adult Fiction novels in this upcoming semester’s class. I also finished Richard Russo’s Empire Falls—-a great East of Eden-esque family epic. I really enjoyed it. I love books about regular people with regular problems. It takes a talented writer to make those regular things seem important and significant—-a lot like the way that we view our own lives: the significance is in the regularity. Anyway, I recommend it, oh thou thousands of my readership. Russo is the kind of author that inspires young wannabes like me to start writing that novel that they say everybody thinks that they have in them. I actually have what I think is a pretty good idea. Just like everybody else.
Another book I have finally been able to put a significant dent in because of the marvelous invention and never tiring vocal chords of the magnificent audiobook is Herman Melville’s Moby Dick (careful not to forget the ‘r’ in Herman, lest the old coot become He-man, which is actually not a bad nickname for someone with such magnanimous prose-power—“By the Power of Great-White-Skull!”). If you have never read, or never gotten past the first chapter of Ahab’s Monomaniacal Adventure here is a brief synopsis of what to expect: one chapter of excellent, steady moving plot between four chapters of another book titled Everything You Ever Cared To Know About Whaling’s Guide For Suckers Who Thought They Were Reading Moby Dick, One of America’s Treasures. It’s some heavy stuff--seriously, if you want to learn how to decapitate a sperm whale, Melville's your man. But—again, give me an hour in the car and I can knock off a good five chapters! Ahoy me hardies!
In other news, I am back to the grind of the grad school pursuit. I have narrowed my search to 10 or 12 schools and am feeling pretty good about my choices. The kicker becomes this whole GRE thing. I have good grades: a 4.0 over the last two years at ASU of my English and ed. studies, I think that I have a fairly decent writing sample and the ability to write decent personal statements—but that dang GRE! Why must it reveal my averageness when I have done so much to cover it up!? I bit the bullet and have been taking a $400 dollar prep course. As soon as I can actually talk myself out of my deranged osmosis-will-suffice study habits, I may actually make some good use of the money spent there.
Also of summer importance: the Rentals and Ozma—-two of the greatest summer bands of my youth have reunited and are touring the country together playing such favorites as Eponine (yeah, I know that is an ’03 clip, but such editing and sound quality!) and I Just Threw Out the Love of My Dreams (I know, not good editing OR sound quality—but that’s Rachel Haden and she is singing one of my favorite songs of all time with the heart and soul of Weezer, one Matt Sharp [parenthesis within a parenthesis—-yeah! See my "What Happened to Weezer" article--this blog's first post]). Ozma reminds me of being married with no kids which meant still being a kid which was fun but seems so long ago. For me they are the perfect punk-pop band--different from Weezer becasue when I first met them they were just kids. Plus, who wouldn't love a band who write songs about Back to the Future, Zelda, Natalie Portman and cover the Tetris theme? The Rentals remind me of being 18 and being a kid but feeling like an adult—-like I knew everything. Matt Sharp was always the funnest thing about seeing Weezer play. Both are great bands: if they come to your town you should go so you can tell me about it because they are coming here on a Sunday!
Friday, June 09, 2006
Gnarls Barkley= summer fun
Summer time is about harmless guilty pleasures—right ? This summer my guilty pleasure has a name and that name is Gnarls Barkley. Besides having an awesome first album with St. Elsewhere and a completely catchy single in Crazy—with a totally unique video, to boot—they are showing up in public in costumes like this, and with live remixes like this. Man oh man. It’s probably been done before—but I think that the R&B with hip-hop/sampling sensibilities is so cool! That the guys (Danger Mouse and Cee-Lo) have a sense of humor with their costuming and stuff makes the band even better. The other cool thing that I just read about them was that after 9 weeks they had their own single deleted from the top ten (as #1) to keep the public from getting sick of it and to make way for their next single. I don't think that anybody has ever done that before.
I hope to see them live.
I hope to see them live.
Monday, May 22, 2006
How Rindecella Slopped her Dripper: Spoonerisms
Spoonerisms are named after the Reverend William A. Spooner (1844–1930), an English clergyman who uttered them frequently and apparently involuntarily and are the amusing result of the transpositions of sounds in a pair of words or phrases:
He referred to Queen Victoria as "our queer old dean."
"We all know what it is to have a half-warmed fish inside us."
"Is the bean dizzy?"
"When the boys come back from France, we'll have the hags flung out"
"The Lord is a shoving leopard,"
"It is kisstomary to cuss the bride,"
"Mardon me padam, this pie is occupewed. Can I sew you to another sheet?."
"You have hissed my mystery lectures; you have tasted the whole worm."
A couple of other funny ones I found:
Rental deceptionist
Hollow your fart
A lack of pies
Enron: what a crunch of books.
hot Poles
We have a plaster man
you have mad banners
Candle with hair!
well-boiled icicle
Go shake a tower
Tease my ears
bound grief
He referred to Queen Victoria as "our queer old dean."
"We all know what it is to have a half-warmed fish inside us."
"Is the bean dizzy?"
"When the boys come back from France, we'll have the hags flung out"
"The Lord is a shoving leopard,"
"It is kisstomary to cuss the bride,"
"Mardon me padam, this pie is occupewed. Can I sew you to another sheet?."
"You have hissed my mystery lectures; you have tasted the whole worm."
A couple of other funny ones I found:
Rental deceptionist
Hollow your fart
A lack of pies
Enron: what a crunch of books.
hot Poles
We have a plaster man
you have mad banners
Candle with hair!
well-boiled icicle
Go shake a tower
Tease my ears
bound grief
Monday, May 08, 2006
Mickey Mouse Goes Camping
School is finally out… big phew. I think that I must have spent over 100 hours working on the paper that I turned in today to Dr. Perry (Milton). Today was version 2.0, Friday was the Rhetoric paper and version 1.7—having been through three separate rewrites with Vernon at the writing center (you bet I am going to use every resource). Anyway, I am feeling o.k. about things. If I do well on the paper, I might possibly get an A in Perry’s class and therefore gain access to a good letter of recommendation.
Anyway, two cute things happened this last week with Seth that are worth mentioning. The first fun thing was that I told him that we were going to be able to go camping for our ward’s Father and Son’s outing. I was explaining all of the different things that we would be doing—setting up a tent, going to the mountains, sleeping in sleeping bags. He was so excited. But then he got perplexed and said: “Daddy, what is a sleeping bag?” So cute. So I showed him what a sleeping bag was and told him how we would unroll it and put it in our tent and sleep in the mountains. He then said, “Daddy, if we try to sleep on the mountains, won’t we just slip off?” Clearly this boy needs a good camp.
Second, a few nights ago Seth was walking around with his hand cupped, as if holding something. We asked him if what he was doing. He said that he was holding “Mickey,” as in Mickey Mouse. It was classic imaginary friend material. He would ask him questions, set him down, pick him up, speak for him, etc. So, what do I think about this?
Mickey’s going camping, baby.
Anyway, two cute things happened this last week with Seth that are worth mentioning. The first fun thing was that I told him that we were going to be able to go camping for our ward’s Father and Son’s outing. I was explaining all of the different things that we would be doing—setting up a tent, going to the mountains, sleeping in sleeping bags. He was so excited. But then he got perplexed and said: “Daddy, what is a sleeping bag?” So cute. So I showed him what a sleeping bag was and told him how we would unroll it and put it in our tent and sleep in the mountains. He then said, “Daddy, if we try to sleep on the mountains, won’t we just slip off?” Clearly this boy needs a good camp.
Second, a few nights ago Seth was walking around with his hand cupped, as if holding something. We asked him if what he was doing. He said that he was holding “Mickey,” as in Mickey Mouse. It was classic imaginary friend material. He would ask him questions, set him down, pick him up, speak for him, etc. So, what do I think about this?
Mickey’s going camping, baby.
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Sliding through the last week of the semester
Immersed in Milton and Burke, trying to exert myself in a way that produces some sort of semi-scholarly work, I am locking in for quite a week. My blog diversions have been a way of coming up for air. So, speaking of fresh breaths of that invisible, life-giving chemical:
Check this dude out: Jerry Douglas
I have been listening to a lot of Alison Krauss & Union Station lately (a lovely accent to my almost constant diet of Sufjan Stevens, Iron & Wine, James Taylor and the Shins of late). Douglas is, as you might have already seen, the acoustic slide guitarist for Alison’s band and the guy is amazing. I have been listening to the albums lately and couldn’t put my finger on what gave that unique twinge to the amazing slide soloing going on. When I saw them play on last Friday night’s Austin City Limits, I saw Douglas in action for the first time and was utterly floored. I am a guy who has severely dissed the twang of the electric slide heard in most country music, but this is a whole new thing (and I can stand the former much more these days too). Anyway, I hope you enjoy seeing this guy in action. If you like what you see and haven’t listened to much Alison Krauss, I recommend theses two songs to start you out:
This is from Austin City Limits It shows the bluegrassiness at its best.
Goodbye is All We Have
And if you can find it, Restless is a great song too
Check this dude out: Jerry Douglas
I have been listening to a lot of Alison Krauss & Union Station lately (a lovely accent to my almost constant diet of Sufjan Stevens, Iron & Wine, James Taylor and the Shins of late). Douglas is, as you might have already seen, the acoustic slide guitarist for Alison’s band and the guy is amazing. I have been listening to the albums lately and couldn’t put my finger on what gave that unique twinge to the amazing slide soloing going on. When I saw them play on last Friday night’s Austin City Limits, I saw Douglas in action for the first time and was utterly floored. I am a guy who has severely dissed the twang of the electric slide heard in most country music, but this is a whole new thing (and I can stand the former much more these days too). Anyway, I hope you enjoy seeing this guy in action. If you like what you see and haven’t listened to much Alison Krauss, I recommend theses two songs to start you out:
This is from Austin City Limits It shows the bluegrassiness at its best.
Goodbye is All We Have
And if you can find it, Restless is a great song too
Friday, April 28, 2006
NESsy: Our underwater ally
On Only Anything's second album SpaceCapers, Jon Thwaits busted out a cover of a tune from the NES video game Mega Man 3--that was 1994. In 2006 it has become an industry.
You can find Asian prodigies on the net working out the Mario theme on the piano or a guitar, high school bands rocking the "Mike Tyson's Punch Out" theme, and I just stumbled on this today.
Phoenix has the Minibosses. I can barely believe the close harmonies these dueling guitarists pull off (sorry about the swears in that last link, just leave the volume down until the dudes start rockin' Castlevania). I guess Jon and I should have followed that muse.
The Advantage from San Diego are pretty cool too.
What does this all say about my generation's music sensibilities?
I'm sorry, this post just keeps growing (and this is totally unrelated)--but I can't help but love this
(You'll love it too if you are into Ben Folds singing old Wham! songs with Rufus Wainwright)
You can find Asian prodigies on the net working out the Mario theme on the piano or a guitar, high school bands rocking the "Mike Tyson's Punch Out" theme, and I just stumbled on this today.
Phoenix has the Minibosses. I can barely believe the close harmonies these dueling guitarists pull off (sorry about the swears in that last link, just leave the volume down until the dudes start rockin' Castlevania). I guess Jon and I should have followed that muse.
The Advantage from San Diego are pretty cool too.
What does this all say about my generation's music sensibilities?
I'm sorry, this post just keeps growing (and this is totally unrelated)--but I can't help but love this
(You'll love it too if you are into Ben Folds singing old Wham! songs with Rufus Wainwright)
Thursday, April 27, 2006
revisted
The previous post has been hanging ominously at that top of this blog for a few weeks now. I have thought about writing something else just so the announcement of stupidity is subordinated by something else. But I can't help but continue to muse, unhappily on the topic. I do this for a few reasons. The first of which has to do with that feeling again being present today as I sat at the back of my grammar class. How can I feel so lost after sitting in the same class for 3 months with people around me who really seem to have caught on? What makes me different from them? So I can feel sorry for myself about this for a while, and I do.
But then I have to think about it from another perspective: How many students will I teach in the future who will be feeling this same way? Are we a majority or a minority? I think that (due to the same people always speaking up in class) that we have to be at least a small majority. I guess what I am saying is that as long as I don't let the "feeling of stupid" keep me from pressing ahead (which it, sadly, has done at times), then I have to remember the feeling—those of us on the cusp of knowledge, indeed, those of us who feel the chasm, are those who are the most humble and therefore the most teachable.
But then I have to think about it from another perspective: How many students will I teach in the future who will be feeling this same way? Are we a majority or a minority? I think that (due to the same people always speaking up in class) that we have to be at least a small majority. I guess what I am saying is that as long as I don't let the "feeling of stupid" keep me from pressing ahead (which it, sadly, has done at times), then I have to remember the feeling—those of us on the cusp of knowledge, indeed, those of us who feel the chasm, are those who are the most humble and therefore the most teachable.
Friday, April 07, 2006
the feeling of stupid
Part of the paradox of learning is realizing how much you really don't know. It is a scary, empty, cold and echoing emotion- the realization of one's ignorance.
Monday, April 03, 2006
there comes a call...
There comes a call for renewal. For reexamination; for action inducing introspection; for being stronger and taking courage. Over the weekend I felt that call . There comes a time to end equivocation. A time for the beginning of being firm in one’s mind . So I am beginning (v) at the beginning (n) beginning (adv?) now.
My goal is to write everyday (like he suggests)
My goal is to walk everyday
My goal is to read everyday
My goal is to trust everyday
My goal is to play everyday
My goal is to exercise…everything (mind, spirit, body, heart) everyday.
Part of becoming what I am hoping to become requires courage. I remember on my mission thinking the exact same thing—realizing that the success that I was waiting for depended largely on how I spent my time (self discipline) but had even more to do with my own belief in my personal capacity to be successful. Once I made it to that place, I had success. Strange, the arithmetic growth.
As such, this site is going to change again. It can’t just be a place of discussion on one topic. It must be a place for the discussion and exposition of all the various things that I am thinking about. I can’t sit down and write every day about how hard getting into graduate school is going to be—and I want to sit down and write every day. Not that I can publish everything that I want to write here... but at least there is the motivation of that potential.
See you tomorrow.
My goal is to write everyday (like he suggests)
My goal is to walk everyday
My goal is to read everyday
My goal is to trust everyday
My goal is to play everyday
My goal is to exercise…everything (mind, spirit, body, heart) everyday.
Part of becoming what I am hoping to become requires courage. I remember on my mission thinking the exact same thing—realizing that the success that I was waiting for depended largely on how I spent my time (self discipline) but had even more to do with my own belief in my personal capacity to be successful. Once I made it to that place, I had success. Strange, the arithmetic growth.
As such, this site is going to change again. It can’t just be a place of discussion on one topic. It must be a place for the discussion and exposition of all the various things that I am thinking about. I can’t sit down and write every day about how hard getting into graduate school is going to be—and I want to sit down and write every day. Not that I can publish everything that I want to write here... but at least there is the motivation of that potential.
See you tomorrow.
Saturday, March 18, 2006
For all intensive purposes...
Spring break is winding down here at Stone central, and I didn't get as much done as I had hoped. I did get the annoyingly long and busy-workish "Teachers and the Law" final done, which doesn't seem like a big deal now, but would have been a bugger to have to deal with on top of my other school work.
At this point, it becomes a game of deciding what layers of my many responsibilities and preparations get shuffled through and brought to the surface for some attention. I did get a chance, today, to sit down and study a bit about the GRE Literature test. The Princeton Review has a pretty decent and easily read prep book that I have been perusing through (check that html link action!). I have pretty much decided that I will also be taking a general GRE exam test prep class (which will mean that the total amount spent on the GRE after the 3 previous times, the 2 upcoming and the prep class will hover around $1000). I will be talking to Dr. Perry about these things soon, but already think I know what he is going to say: retake it and do well.
One funny thing: While watching 24 episodes this week, one of the characters clearly said "For all intents and purposes..." It blew my mind. I immediately asked Tina if I was the only one that had been saying "for all intensive purposes" my whole life not knowing that it was incorrect. She, of course, didn't make that mistake. I discovered after some internetting that mine is a very common mistake. Much like "supposebly" and a million other ways that we mess the language up by speaking it, for all intensive purposes injured me...injured bad.
Just for fun, if any of the few of you that read this can think of any other mistakes like this, feel free to comment.
At this point, it becomes a game of deciding what layers of my many responsibilities and preparations get shuffled through and brought to the surface for some attention. I did get a chance, today, to sit down and study a bit about the GRE Literature test. The Princeton Review has a pretty decent and easily read prep book that I have been perusing through (check that html link action!). I have pretty much decided that I will also be taking a general GRE exam test prep class (which will mean that the total amount spent on the GRE after the 3 previous times, the 2 upcoming and the prep class will hover around $1000). I will be talking to Dr. Perry about these things soon, but already think I know what he is going to say: retake it and do well.
One funny thing: While watching 24 episodes this week, one of the characters clearly said "For all intents and purposes..." It blew my mind. I immediately asked Tina if I was the only one that had been saying "for all intensive purposes" my whole life not knowing that it was incorrect. She, of course, didn't make that mistake. I discovered after some internetting that mine is a very common mistake. Much like "supposebly" and a million other ways that we mess the language up by speaking it, for all intensive purposes injured me...injured bad.
Just for fun, if any of the few of you that read this can think of any other mistakes like this, feel free to comment.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Jonathan Stone’s Statement of Academic Goals
(here is the personal statement that I included today in my scholarship app)
Part of the undergraduate experience includes a sort of intellectual flailing in the rough waters of indecision and ignorance. The foil of the equation, namely decision and intelligence (hopefully leading to action) then becomes the rescue boat which, if found, carries the student toward a clear academic agenda. Finding this life boat took some time for me, but after nearly ten years in the water, I’m secure and sailing towards my goal: a tenure-track position in the field of English at a major university.
My experience in the modern academy is extensive, having attended five institutions, taking degrees from two of them, and currently being poised for two more from ASU. Because of sheer time spent, the university has lost its intimidation factor, which has given me the opportunity to view it for what it really is: an intellectual marketplace. More importantly, I see it now as a place where I really do fit; against the odds, I actually enjoy academia. In other words, I have moved from the busy market’s sideline—I now buy and sell everyday.
As a consumer of the academy, I have developed certain tastes. These tastes have been aged and informed by the time that I have invested into the institution. And like any critic, I believe that my tastes are unique, teachable and have a context that is applicable. So, when I say I want to teach English at a major university because I love to read and write, there are a variety of richer subtexts that accompany this somewhat trite declaration.
My experience in the system has led to much more careful choices, which has also led to a more deliberate academic experience than I had in my flailing days. For example, I know that I want to teach literature at an advanced level, but, because I am not yet there, I have sought out select classes that will allow me to interact with and learn from the best intellectual minds that our English department offers. I have moved away from taking classes merely for credit, and now have ulterior motives which have lead me to seek out more rigorous courses, this semester focusing on Rhetorical theory, advanced work in Milton and literacy studies. I find the process of decoding texts to be rewarding intellectually, and the scholars with whom I have selected to study are the expert decoders and deal with some of society’s most complex theories and texts. Likewise, I see myself as an advocate and teacher of writing and its many complexities, processes and theories. Accordingly, I have positioned myself in classes where those theories are taught and in situations where I can practice applying these ideas. Furthermore, I am currently the Online Writing Lab manager for the Polytechnic campus’ writing center and work everyday in person with students both applying these theories and honing my own understanding of composition practices.
I see in academia a need for better teaching, so in addition to my formal English studies, I have begun a diligent study of pedagogy. By the time I enter graduate school, I will have accumulated hundreds of hours teaching in real English settings—something that my peers will only be beginning to do when graduate school begins.
As I mentioned, my studies and instruction have led to an interest in the decoding of texts and a fleshing out of the many writing practices. These activities provide contexts for greater social questions and concerns. In other words, my studies have given me a broader perspective of the world and my place in it. This fact then also gives perspective for what teaching these subjects can do for the students who it will one day be my responsibility to instruct. I am committed to these students’ successes—they need not flail as long as I!
Finally, as I have tried to provide some of the subtexts for my scholarly interests, and speaking to my last point, I find within each of these areas, both writing and decoding texts, very specific needs to advance the academic conversation by the production of meaningful, student relevant research in the varying fields of English. As Barry Brummett, a rhetorical theorist, explains in his article Rhetorical Theory as Heuristic and Moral, A Pedagogical Justification (1984), the first audience of our research will always be our peers in academia, but our primary audience should be our students. They are the ones who will be wandering in their masses out into the society of which we profess to be scholars.
And because I am still on this side of the podium, “they” is still me. Thus, my primary goal after graduation becomes to spend the next six or seven years of my life in a respected graduate program where I can thoroughly gird my learning. But, I am encouraged now because my sail is set; my vision has cleared, my intentions have solidified, and I have already entered the discourse.
Part of the undergraduate experience includes a sort of intellectual flailing in the rough waters of indecision and ignorance. The foil of the equation, namely decision and intelligence (hopefully leading to action) then becomes the rescue boat which, if found, carries the student toward a clear academic agenda. Finding this life boat took some time for me, but after nearly ten years in the water, I’m secure and sailing towards my goal: a tenure-track position in the field of English at a major university.
My experience in the modern academy is extensive, having attended five institutions, taking degrees from two of them, and currently being poised for two more from ASU. Because of sheer time spent, the university has lost its intimidation factor, which has given me the opportunity to view it for what it really is: an intellectual marketplace. More importantly, I see it now as a place where I really do fit; against the odds, I actually enjoy academia. In other words, I have moved from the busy market’s sideline—I now buy and sell everyday.
As a consumer of the academy, I have developed certain tastes. These tastes have been aged and informed by the time that I have invested into the institution. And like any critic, I believe that my tastes are unique, teachable and have a context that is applicable. So, when I say I want to teach English at a major university because I love to read and write, there are a variety of richer subtexts that accompany this somewhat trite declaration.
My experience in the system has led to much more careful choices, which has also led to a more deliberate academic experience than I had in my flailing days. For example, I know that I want to teach literature at an advanced level, but, because I am not yet there, I have sought out select classes that will allow me to interact with and learn from the best intellectual minds that our English department offers. I have moved away from taking classes merely for credit, and now have ulterior motives which have lead me to seek out more rigorous courses, this semester focusing on Rhetorical theory, advanced work in Milton and literacy studies. I find the process of decoding texts to be rewarding intellectually, and the scholars with whom I have selected to study are the expert decoders and deal with some of society’s most complex theories and texts. Likewise, I see myself as an advocate and teacher of writing and its many complexities, processes and theories. Accordingly, I have positioned myself in classes where those theories are taught and in situations where I can practice applying these ideas. Furthermore, I am currently the Online Writing Lab manager for the Polytechnic campus’ writing center and work everyday in person with students both applying these theories and honing my own understanding of composition practices.
I see in academia a need for better teaching, so in addition to my formal English studies, I have begun a diligent study of pedagogy. By the time I enter graduate school, I will have accumulated hundreds of hours teaching in real English settings—something that my peers will only be beginning to do when graduate school begins.
As I mentioned, my studies and instruction have led to an interest in the decoding of texts and a fleshing out of the many writing practices. These activities provide contexts for greater social questions and concerns. In other words, my studies have given me a broader perspective of the world and my place in it. This fact then also gives perspective for what teaching these subjects can do for the students who it will one day be my responsibility to instruct. I am committed to these students’ successes—they need not flail as long as I!
Finally, as I have tried to provide some of the subtexts for my scholarly interests, and speaking to my last point, I find within each of these areas, both writing and decoding texts, very specific needs to advance the academic conversation by the production of meaningful, student relevant research in the varying fields of English. As Barry Brummett, a rhetorical theorist, explains in his article Rhetorical Theory as Heuristic and Moral, A Pedagogical Justification (1984), the first audience of our research will always be our peers in academia, but our primary audience should be our students. They are the ones who will be wandering in their masses out into the society of which we profess to be scholars.
And because I am still on this side of the podium, “they” is still me. Thus, my primary goal after graduation becomes to spend the next six or seven years of my life in a respected graduate program where I can thoroughly gird my learning. But, I am encouraged now because my sail is set; my vision has cleared, my intentions have solidified, and I have already entered the discourse.
From time to time
Intimidation in advanced Literature classes is inevitable. There are always plenty of smarty-pants' as well as genuinely smart people in the class that seem to know more about the subject than I do. Or at least understand the discourse enough to sound articulate when they talk about the literature. I can usually combat this tendency with either becoming a smarty-pants myself, or by actually learning the subject well enough to make meaningful contributions to the academic discussion going on. I am having trouble doing so in my Milton class. If you have read Milton you know that he is prolific, complicated and very dense. My professor, a Harvard man, is a smart guy--and I took the class more because of his reputation than because of a Miltonist impulse. So far, just feel dumb. I don’t feel like I am among friends, and there are probably 50 people in my class, so shining brightly enough to encourage my instructor's praise will be a challenge.
*
Dr. Blasingame wrote me a nice letter of recommendation yesterday for a scholarship. He also mentioned that he knows some publishers in Utah, one of which is very famous, whom he said he would be willing to submit a finished manuscript from me. He has been such a great support to my budding interests in really all things literary. It’s got me thinking again about my short story series about my San Francisco mission experience. He mentioned that in order to submit something to these dudes, I would have to have a finished product...something at least 300 pages. I maybe have 25. Probably not even that, but still, I have started thinking about that again. I would like to significantly expand this work. I think that I will take a creative non-fiction class this summer, in fact I would really like to try to make the project part of my summer activities, among GREing, and finalizing where will be applying to grad school.
Anyway, I really have only written about two areas of the mission (the Mission and Palo Alto), and neither with a whole lot of detail. There is a ton of stuff that I could explore:
Petaluma, Marin, Foster City, the Sunset—let alone the some of the substories: Crabtree, Mclane, Hall, The Great Fall, etc. So anyway, encouragement sure is nice. From time to time.
*
Dr. Blasingame wrote me a nice letter of recommendation yesterday for a scholarship. He also mentioned that he knows some publishers in Utah, one of which is very famous, whom he said he would be willing to submit a finished manuscript from me. He has been such a great support to my budding interests in really all things literary. It’s got me thinking again about my short story series about my San Francisco mission experience. He mentioned that in order to submit something to these dudes, I would have to have a finished product...something at least 300 pages. I maybe have 25. Probably not even that, but still, I have started thinking about that again. I would like to significantly expand this work. I think that I will take a creative non-fiction class this summer, in fact I would really like to try to make the project part of my summer activities, among GREing, and finalizing where will be applying to grad school.
Anyway, I really have only written about two areas of the mission (the Mission and Palo Alto), and neither with a whole lot of detail. There is a ton of stuff that I could explore:
Petaluma, Marin, Foster City, the Sunset—let alone the some of the substories: Crabtree, Mclane, Hall, The Great Fall, etc. So anyway, encouragement sure is nice. From time to time.
Monday, January 23, 2006
Blueprints
I am in the process of rethinking this blog space. I just don't have enough time to be a critic I guess. I think that the far more interesting topic (at least for me) is whether or not a man of my intellectual deficiency can hope to get into a good English PhD program. That is my goal, and while I recognize up front that it is a lofty one, something drives me toward it. So off I go.
The question becomes whether or not this is a Kamikaze mission. It may be. There are definitely no guarantees, but this is where I stand as far as I can guesstimate:
1. The GRE- I am going to have to take this test for what will be the fourth time. Pretty sad, but the truth of the matter is that I need about a hundred more points on this bad boy to be in a competitive place.
My Score: 550 (Verbal)
Needed: 650.
Plus there is the whole issue of the English Literature subject test. Also known as the hardest test on the planet, even among current English doctoral candidates.
2. The letter of intent/personal statement- This little 2 page piece is the one chance that the multitudes of stuffy professorial types have of getting to know you. My last attempt bordered on the “exactly what not to write in a letter of intent” variety, now that I know a little about it. This piece, if done right, will not be easy and will be very time consuming. It becomes my task to personalize 10+ letters in a way that will make me seem like the best candidate for the particulars of that university. In other words, in principle, my letters to UC Irvine and the University of Washington will need to be very different. I need not only to show their board that their school is the perfect fit for me, but also that I am the perfect fit for them—that I will add something significant to their institution in my 6-7 years on campus. All that, and help them get to know me. Sheesh.
3. The single most important document that you will send (so the experts say) is your writing sample. I took Milton and Rhetoric this semester almost with the pure intent of both using the paper that I write for both of these classes as my sample, and getting these tenured professors to write me letters (which actually deserves the #4 here, but I will just mention it parenthetically instead). I am confident that these papers (after undergoing numerous rewrites in the writing center) will be the strongest piece of my application and will hopefully outshine my dismal GRE scores.
4. Finally, I am hoping that this double major thing that I am doing will also make me stand out. When I finish, I will be certified to teach English in High School and will have X number of hours experience in the English classroom to my name. I also have my past experience of teaching ancient texts from my seminary days, plus I have my current experience in the writing center, to boot. This has to mean something in the eyes of the graduate committee that will read my application.
And, if all else fails I will still have a job to start in the Fall of ’07 (hopefully).
So that is it. That is my plan of action. Currently, I am investigating my many school options. My plan is to go through at least the top 50 and see if I can’t find the best fits. We would be SO excited to go to a California school, and all of the UCs are great. I would also (Tina, not as much) to go east. Brown, Duke, Purdue, University of Chicago, all have great programs that might be a little too green for my pasture. But I’m not counting any out yet!
The question becomes whether or not this is a Kamikaze mission. It may be. There are definitely no guarantees, but this is where I stand as far as I can guesstimate:
1. The GRE- I am going to have to take this test for what will be the fourth time. Pretty sad, but the truth of the matter is that I need about a hundred more points on this bad boy to be in a competitive place.
My Score: 550 (Verbal)
Needed: 650.
Plus there is the whole issue of the English Literature subject test. Also known as the hardest test on the planet, even among current English doctoral candidates.
2. The letter of intent/personal statement- This little 2 page piece is the one chance that the multitudes of stuffy professorial types have of getting to know you. My last attempt bordered on the “exactly what not to write in a letter of intent” variety, now that I know a little about it. This piece, if done right, will not be easy and will be very time consuming. It becomes my task to personalize 10+ letters in a way that will make me seem like the best candidate for the particulars of that university. In other words, in principle, my letters to UC Irvine and the University of Washington will need to be very different. I need not only to show their board that their school is the perfect fit for me, but also that I am the perfect fit for them—that I will add something significant to their institution in my 6-7 years on campus. All that, and help them get to know me. Sheesh.
3. The single most important document that you will send (so the experts say) is your writing sample. I took Milton and Rhetoric this semester almost with the pure intent of both using the paper that I write for both of these classes as my sample, and getting these tenured professors to write me letters (which actually deserves the #4 here, but I will just mention it parenthetically instead). I am confident that these papers (after undergoing numerous rewrites in the writing center) will be the strongest piece of my application and will hopefully outshine my dismal GRE scores.
4. Finally, I am hoping that this double major thing that I am doing will also make me stand out. When I finish, I will be certified to teach English in High School and will have X number of hours experience in the English classroom to my name. I also have my past experience of teaching ancient texts from my seminary days, plus I have my current experience in the writing center, to boot. This has to mean something in the eyes of the graduate committee that will read my application.
And, if all else fails I will still have a job to start in the Fall of ’07 (hopefully).
So that is it. That is my plan of action. Currently, I am investigating my many school options. My plan is to go through at least the top 50 and see if I can’t find the best fits. We would be SO excited to go to a California school, and all of the UCs are great. I would also (Tina, not as much) to go east. Brown, Duke, Purdue, University of Chicago, all have great programs that might be a little too green for my pasture. But I’m not counting any out yet!
Monday, October 17, 2005
Fathers and Sons
Muted electronic beeping, shadows, and the sound of squirting jelly. I wonder if it’s cold as I watch it spread upon the smooth, rounding surface of Tina’s belly. The space of the propped open door, a golden rectangle of light. Concentrated. Glowing. First Born.
…but, silence.
“Dual-lobed placenta.” Nurse says. “See here where the cord is inserted between these two masses? Umbilical cords are typically inserted into a single placental mass.”
“What does that mean for the baby?” A whisper from my wife.
“A dual-lobed insertion sometimes means a dangerous delivery. Occasionally, the cord can detach prematurely and cut off the oxygen to the baby and cause hemorrhaging within the mother… but I am sure everything will be fine. We’ll just need to watch it.”
I watch the ultrasound screen. I see the lines that mean cord, placenta, blood flow—they ungulate and fold into each other: A river at its source, a tree truck; its branches.
My eyes turn back toward Tina’s protrusion, sticky and slick. For a moment I am Nostrodomis, a prophet, a soothsayer. I see shades of a 9-monthed future: Tina, legs splayed, blue, her eyes silently screaming: Lights, Doctor, Nurse, Blood, Chaos, but no child...
Suddenly back at Ultrasound my own eyes focus again on the fuzzy, grey screen. But now I see spine, eye socket, leg, toes and then… penis.
“Do you want to know the sex?’ Nurse says.
“It’s a boy,” I say.
***
My father is a singer of made up songs. I learned to sing my address and phone number before I could read. If I happened to stray, I knew my song “285 South 400 East!” It was sure to lead me home. Even then I knew the songs were silly—bits and pieces of real melodies, but twisted to serve a practical purpose. Like the notes of a little boy’s address or an harmonic offering of affection directed towards my mother. He sang me through Big Wheel park rides and puddle splashes, surprised and warmed with metaphor when I show him my smiling reflection in a dirty, stagnant, pool of melted snow.
Later, he disciplines, but hesitantly. I am Eldest. I remember a conversation he has with my mom about whether or not to use a belt for a grievous act of child villainy that I had committed. He doesn’t.
Later still, in a library adjacent to my school and his office I remember his face, a combination of consternation and fear as he searches the isles to break up my first kiss. One of his students had tipped him off… too late.
My dad paints. But his lessons were broad stroked—impressionistic. My dad writes. But publishing was never the motivation for our relationship. My dad teaches religion professionally, but he rarely, if ever, preached to me when I lived in his house.
My dad hates to camp. He can barely set up the damn tent. But we went anyway. At the annual “Fathers and Sons” church campout, I was humiliated that long after the neighboring family’s tents seemed appear magically like so many morning mushrooms, we would still be struggling and hammering, staking and yanking the mildewed, twenty year old tent that my dad said “worked great” on his honeymoon. The next morning we would leave right after breakfast.
One teenage evening, much later, I am up late messing around with the cat. Amidst the tormenting, the mutt-cat scratches me deeply across the wrist. I stumble out into the bathroom adjacent to my bedroom, pissed, and began cleaning the bleeding wound. My dad comes in to see what the matter is. Our eyes make contact in the mirror, and I pass out. I fall backwards toward the shower curtain. My back hits the edge of the tub just above my hips and I accomplish a handless backbend.
My fainting immediately transports me to a dreamscape. The dreams are un-stoppable, and full story lines play themselves out. There is a nauseating tug from the other dimension, but I resist. I hear the words. They drift into my gathering consciousness like disconnected memories or precognitions and the words are neither present, past or future. They are spoken tenderly by a distant voice that sounds like my own.
“Sweet... sweetheart! Sweetheart! Wake up!” I force my eyelids open and find myself in a place I hadn’t been in years: my father’s arms. In a moment it is weird and I wiggle out, “I’m alright, Dad. Why does my back hurt?”
***
Seth is almost two. He too sings songs and gives hugs and bold, slobbery kisses on the mouth. These kisses seem a symbol of his smallness. I will know the very moment when he is my little-boy-no-longer because of an announcement of his emancipation from them. Without shame, I call him “sweetheart.”
He sits this morning watching Dora, Boots and Blue. Weeks ago we discovered that he knew every single one of his letters, and he can count to the teens even though he skips 4 and 5. We hadn’t spent much time going over that stuff with him-- thinking it was too soon to start. It must be the T.V.
He looks at me, beautiful, and smiles. Earlier in the year, he bumped his face on the tile at grandma and grandpa’s house and chipped a little corner off of one of his front teeth. At first I was disappointed, but know now that it just adds to his charm.
“Hi daddy,” he says and then does his favorite new thing: He lifts his little hand and concentrating, rotates it from side to side, waving. He watches his own hand, as if to make sure that he is doing it right. Satisfied, he looks up at me with his nose squished, grinning:
“Wun, two, fee, six! Seben! Et-nine-ten, eeyeben, telve fiteen fiteen fiteen!” He says, and runs up to me throwing his arms around me.
“Oh, daddy. Lub.”
“I love you too, Seffers,” I say.
***
In a digital snapshot that sits in megabytes on my hard drive, a doctor’s hand is gloved and bloody. She lifts up the opaque, purple, shell-casing: a chrysalis. Two distinct lobes can be seen, while a crying, pink baby is nuzzled, sucking, in the background.
…but, silence.
“Dual-lobed placenta.” Nurse says. “See here where the cord is inserted between these two masses? Umbilical cords are typically inserted into a single placental mass.”
“What does that mean for the baby?” A whisper from my wife.
“A dual-lobed insertion sometimes means a dangerous delivery. Occasionally, the cord can detach prematurely and cut off the oxygen to the baby and cause hemorrhaging within the mother… but I am sure everything will be fine. We’ll just need to watch it.”
I watch the ultrasound screen. I see the lines that mean cord, placenta, blood flow—they ungulate and fold into each other: A river at its source, a tree truck; its branches.
My eyes turn back toward Tina’s protrusion, sticky and slick. For a moment I am Nostrodomis, a prophet, a soothsayer. I see shades of a 9-monthed future: Tina, legs splayed, blue, her eyes silently screaming: Lights, Doctor, Nurse, Blood, Chaos, but no child...
Suddenly back at Ultrasound my own eyes focus again on the fuzzy, grey screen. But now I see spine, eye socket, leg, toes and then… penis.
“Do you want to know the sex?’ Nurse says.
“It’s a boy,” I say.
***
My father is a singer of made up songs. I learned to sing my address and phone number before I could read. If I happened to stray, I knew my song “285 South 400 East!” It was sure to lead me home. Even then I knew the songs were silly—bits and pieces of real melodies, but twisted to serve a practical purpose. Like the notes of a little boy’s address or an harmonic offering of affection directed towards my mother. He sang me through Big Wheel park rides and puddle splashes, surprised and warmed with metaphor when I show him my smiling reflection in a dirty, stagnant, pool of melted snow.
Later, he disciplines, but hesitantly. I am Eldest. I remember a conversation he has with my mom about whether or not to use a belt for a grievous act of child villainy that I had committed. He doesn’t.
Later still, in a library adjacent to my school and his office I remember his face, a combination of consternation and fear as he searches the isles to break up my first kiss. One of his students had tipped him off… too late.
My dad paints. But his lessons were broad stroked—impressionistic. My dad writes. But publishing was never the motivation for our relationship. My dad teaches religion professionally, but he rarely, if ever, preached to me when I lived in his house.
My dad hates to camp. He can barely set up the damn tent. But we went anyway. At the annual “Fathers and Sons” church campout, I was humiliated that long after the neighboring family’s tents seemed appear magically like so many morning mushrooms, we would still be struggling and hammering, staking and yanking the mildewed, twenty year old tent that my dad said “worked great” on his honeymoon. The next morning we would leave right after breakfast.
One teenage evening, much later, I am up late messing around with the cat. Amidst the tormenting, the mutt-cat scratches me deeply across the wrist. I stumble out into the bathroom adjacent to my bedroom, pissed, and began cleaning the bleeding wound. My dad comes in to see what the matter is. Our eyes make contact in the mirror, and I pass out. I fall backwards toward the shower curtain. My back hits the edge of the tub just above my hips and I accomplish a handless backbend.
My fainting immediately transports me to a dreamscape. The dreams are un-stoppable, and full story lines play themselves out. There is a nauseating tug from the other dimension, but I resist. I hear the words. They drift into my gathering consciousness like disconnected memories or precognitions and the words are neither present, past or future. They are spoken tenderly by a distant voice that sounds like my own.
“Sweet... sweetheart! Sweetheart! Wake up!” I force my eyelids open and find myself in a place I hadn’t been in years: my father’s arms. In a moment it is weird and I wiggle out, “I’m alright, Dad. Why does my back hurt?”
***
Seth is almost two. He too sings songs and gives hugs and bold, slobbery kisses on the mouth. These kisses seem a symbol of his smallness. I will know the very moment when he is my little-boy-no-longer because of an announcement of his emancipation from them. Without shame, I call him “sweetheart.”
He sits this morning watching Dora, Boots and Blue. Weeks ago we discovered that he knew every single one of his letters, and he can count to the teens even though he skips 4 and 5. We hadn’t spent much time going over that stuff with him-- thinking it was too soon to start. It must be the T.V.
He looks at me, beautiful, and smiles. Earlier in the year, he bumped his face on the tile at grandma and grandpa’s house and chipped a little corner off of one of his front teeth. At first I was disappointed, but know now that it just adds to his charm.
“Hi daddy,” he says and then does his favorite new thing: He lifts his little hand and concentrating, rotates it from side to side, waving. He watches his own hand, as if to make sure that he is doing it right. Satisfied, he looks up at me with his nose squished, grinning:
“Wun, two, fee, six! Seben! Et-nine-ten, eeyeben, telve fiteen fiteen fiteen!” He says, and runs up to me throwing his arms around me.
“Oh, daddy. Lub.”
“I love you too, Seffers,” I say.
***
In a digital snapshot that sits in megabytes on my hard drive, a doctor’s hand is gloved and bloody. She lifts up the opaque, purple, shell-casing: a chrysalis. Two distinct lobes can be seen, while a crying, pink baby is nuzzled, sucking, in the background.
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