Unlike every other shmohawk with a keyboard and a connection, I'm not revealing or discussing ongoing allegations into possible use of preformance enhancing substances until something is confirmed.
I can think of a few organizations who would do well to follow my lead.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Friday, July 21, 2006
The Return of the Floyd
Amazing. Just unbelieveable. There is no other way to describe what Floyd Landis did in the 17th stage of the Tour de France, coming back from what certainly looked like death to shatter the field and gain back most of an 8+ minute deficit.
He went from broken and done to the likely victor in Paris.
Amazing.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Metal So Hard
Rock fans, rejoice. The Sword is coming to Idaho.
I admit to a musical past filled with vicious guitar licks, at least one major time change per track, and images of Nordic mythology. I thought it was all behind me. The Sword, a band from Austin, TX, has thankfully proven me quite wrong. The metal resurgence in the last few years has not entirely missed me, but it took Age of Winters, this band's debut record, to make it mean anything.
Check out this short piece on them from The Austin Chronicle. Or their MySpace page, with music.
Sunday, July 16th, The Sword will play at the Bouquet here in Boise, ID. I'm not sure how they landed this show, but good-goddam for them, and for us. If you've got any traces of love for hard hard music left in your soul, don't miss this. "Metal so hard that it holds a razor sharpness even after repeated use in battle," indeed.
Monday, July 10, 2006
Butt Head
What an ending. Strange and disconcerting. Unfortunate, to say the least.
Zizou left the championship match under a cloud of confusion, anger, and sadness. We still don't know what Materazzi did or said to provoke the likely Man of the Match (and eventual and odd winner of the Golden Ball award) to drive his head into the Italian's chest, knocking him off his feet and to the turf. But it must have been something terrible.
Regarldess, the Cup has come to an end, with the Italians the victors. That in itself is enough to make this a sad ending, but to see Zidane go off the field as he did, not able to return for the medals, not able to wave goodbye to his legions of fans, is a crying shame. It was stupid for him to do what he did. Hopefully we'll find out what Materazzi said, because my hunch is that he acted shamefully. But still. Zidane should have risen above it and ended his career with the nobility it deserved.
Hey, isn't there a bike race going on?
Friday, July 07, 2006
Montany
It's tough to describe how wonderful our 4th of July weekend was. We spent it in the mountains around Livingston, Montana, at the cabin of John Works, boyfriend of our Austin friend Kimberly. The entire weekend--the fishing, the eating, the drinking, the boating, the hours of sitting and reading and staring at a view up the valley that warranted charging by the hour--was beyond any of our wildest expectations.
It was great to see Kimberly and John and to be able to hang out with them in such a relaxing, striking setting. We were up in the area of the West Boulder River, or one of the West Boulder forks or drainages, in the Absaroka Mountains just north of Yellowstone. We spent our days on or by or in the river, whether the West Boulder across the road from the cabin, or the same waterway further down where it widened out and rushed white over the rocks, or way further up, above a beautiful meadow and a set of waterfalls, in a stretch of pools that seem out of a fisherman's dream.
And we fished, too. I can see why people get into this flyfishing thing. I was lucky enough for my first experience to be in this setting with a guide and tutor as capable as John. He was insanely patient, giving up the good spots to both Kimberly and I, walking the banks and the water with me to point out the good spots, to teach me to read the water and to know where the fish tend to be, to know how to work my way through a stretch of water to catch fish.
The movements of casting, the silent flow of it all, combined with spending the day hip deep in a gorgeous river focusing insistently on the water and this looping line proved too much for my defenses. I fear I have yet another addiction. Time will tell, but John has seeded the cloud, as it were, handing over a gorgeous deep green fly rod, handmade in Fort Worth, TX, along with a very nice reel and a silver metal rod case. A business proposition, he called it, giving me the gear in exchange for my showing him the good spots when he comes to Idaho.
There was no refusing. A magnificent gesture.
So, besides the fishing and the hiking to fish and the constant play of the dogs in the water and the fields and the great meals full of wine and talk and relaxing...
...we attended a 4th of July picnic among other residents of the valley that made it truly feel like the 4th. I had a hot dog and a hamburger, plenty of beer, and then sat and listened to a couple of the folks pick out traditional tunes on guitars and sing. We joined in when we could. It was so America, so nice an experience.
All in all a wonderful trip. Relaxing and energizing. Sad to leave, excited to fish. On with the summer!
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