This morning I got up at the crack of 6 for a ride up Bogus Basin Road. This would be my first full ascent of the year, and following as it did an evening's paddle on the Main Payette, during which I swam twice and drank the water level at least a bit lower, I wasn't sure how the body would react. I mean, climbing Bogus is a tough enough endeavor for me (I'd never be confused with a strong climber), but doing it with sore abs and arms and groinage, I figured I was just asking for a seizure. But what doesn't kill you leaves you wriggling in pain, right?
So, up we went. Me and co-worker Paul. He's 50 and could leave me in the dust when the road tilts upward, were he so inclined. This morning, he wasn't, so we did a nice steady job of work going up that hill, averaging about 9.5 over the hill's 16.7 miles.
The morning was glorious, chilly and clear, arm warmers and wind vest leaving a bit to be desired at first, but then coming off after the first couple pulls and the only descent built in to the climb. As we came up out of that valley, the sun poked up above the hill tops, and for the rest of the way up we'd be playing hide and seek with el sol, warming, cooling, warming, often at the perfect moments.
The first half of the ride, up to the Forest Service sign, was, as always, a bizzatch. Tough going al lot of the time, but the reasonable pace and the early hour kept me moving and uncramped, for which I was thankful. There were a few other riders out doing it too, but I think we were the first of the day to go the whole way up. About 2 miles from the ski lodge the climb tops out and you get a couple screaming slightly downward miles to work the kinks out of the legs. I needed it, and I quickly got over the slowly developing sense of bonk that was running just a bit behind me. By the time we turned around to go down, I felt damn fine.
And go down we did. Where Paul leaves me on the climbs, I return the favor on the descents. I bolted off and ran the corners hot, trying to hit each apex a la Il Falco and nail the tight ones with minimal braking. I think it was my fastest and smoothest ever, and it felt great. Smooth.
About halfway down I started to shake a little, as the downhill was colder than the climb was, but just easing off and stretching for a moment at a time did the trick. Up in 1:35, down in :35. What fun.
Starting up at 6:30 got us back to work at 9am. After a quick shower, I was Mr. Straightjob again, but knowing what I'd already done that morning, the rest of the day was a breeze.
Gotta make this a normal thing.
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Friday, June 17, 2005
Apolitic
I realize that 'politics' is one of the subheads up at the top of this page, and that I've failed to really address politics thus far on this blog. The reasons for this are many, but the one that rings truest is that I just don't wanna. It's 2005, and 2004 was a bad year for those of us who pay attention to politics here in the US of A. Unless of course you are one of the misled and zombified malignants who sludged forward to support the Dubya, then it was a banner fucking year. But then, who gives a shit about you, anyway?
I digress.
My point is that, after all the turmoil and effort and pain and complete confusion of last year and the way things turned out, the last thing I wanted to do in this space was add to the heaps and gobs of half-informed political commentary clogging up the ether. There's lots out there, and most of it is awful, awful stuff; half-truths or untruths disguised as news or reportage, rantings of lunatics that then show up in daily conversation, again masquerading as truth, being quoted and bandied about as if the parrots actually knew what they were talking about.
This is something I didn't want to engage in. And I still don't. I don't pretend that I'm more fully informed or more correct than most (though if you voted for Bush, you lose, automatically, period, because you are a twit with no conscience and your hand is quite literally one of those ushering in this dark age in America--sorry). I have an opinion on most things, but I feel that until I understand an issue thoroughly, it's better to keep mouth shut and ears and mind open. So, for this reason, politics go missing from this blog.
There are lots of great places to go to get your political fill.
I like to consider these the trinity of political blogs. Left, middle, and right, respectively:
Talking Points Memo
Bull Moose Blog
Andrew Sullivan
I consider myself pretty solidly left of center, so TPM is my source of choice, but Marshall Whitman over at the Bull Moose has a brilliant political mind, and his ongoing tribute to the spirit of TR resonates with me. Andrew Sullivan, conservative though he is, is consistent and fair-minded and is not afraid to call out his fellow righties when they're being assholes. Indeed, in these times, reading his blog is not much different than reading the other two. All of them understand and acknowledge the magnitude of the train wreck that is Bushco.
News:
New York Times
Washington Post
Out there, but good:
Punk Voter
AlterNet
Entertaining Lefty Agitprop:
The Gadflyer
Counterpunch
OK, that's enough for now. I guess I'm just trying to make the point that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. There's a lot of garbage floating around out there, and Joe and Jane America have become as effective at spinning bullshit into acceptable political rhetoric as most campaign managers are, and that's not a good thing. I'm no absolutist, on pretty much anything, but I do believe there is right and there is wrong, and representing untruth as truth and calling it spin is just plain wrong.
But that's politics, right?
I digress.
My point is that, after all the turmoil and effort and pain and complete confusion of last year and the way things turned out, the last thing I wanted to do in this space was add to the heaps and gobs of half-informed political commentary clogging up the ether. There's lots out there, and most of it is awful, awful stuff; half-truths or untruths disguised as news or reportage, rantings of lunatics that then show up in daily conversation, again masquerading as truth, being quoted and bandied about as if the parrots actually knew what they were talking about.
This is something I didn't want to engage in. And I still don't. I don't pretend that I'm more fully informed or more correct than most (though if you voted for Bush, you lose, automatically, period, because you are a twit with no conscience and your hand is quite literally one of those ushering in this dark age in America--sorry). I have an opinion on most things, but I feel that until I understand an issue thoroughly, it's better to keep mouth shut and ears and mind open. So, for this reason, politics go missing from this blog.
There are lots of great places to go to get your political fill.
I like to consider these the trinity of political blogs. Left, middle, and right, respectively:
Talking Points Memo
Bull Moose Blog
Andrew Sullivan
I consider myself pretty solidly left of center, so TPM is my source of choice, but Marshall Whitman over at the Bull Moose has a brilliant political mind, and his ongoing tribute to the spirit of TR resonates with me. Andrew Sullivan, conservative though he is, is consistent and fair-minded and is not afraid to call out his fellow righties when they're being assholes. Indeed, in these times, reading his blog is not much different than reading the other two. All of them understand and acknowledge the magnitude of the train wreck that is Bushco.
News:
New York Times
Washington Post
Out there, but good:
Punk Voter
AlterNet
Entertaining Lefty Agitprop:
The Gadflyer
Counterpunch
OK, that's enough for now. I guess I'm just trying to make the point that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. There's a lot of garbage floating around out there, and Joe and Jane America have become as effective at spinning bullshit into acceptable political rhetoric as most campaign managers are, and that's not a good thing. I'm no absolutist, on pretty much anything, but I do believe there is right and there is wrong, and representing untruth as truth and calling it spin is just plain wrong.
But that's politics, right?
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Broadcasting
If anyone is indeed reading this, I should let you know that the BCRP test phase is running on Live365 as I write this. There are a few sets programmed, and the rest of the time is running random through a bunch of tunes. So there's music on, and some of it's pretty good.
It's free to register at Live365, and then you get access to loads of internet radio stations. Some of them are fantastic. When you get to the search page, punch in BCRP, and you'll get a link to it. Don't expect a whole lot for now, but once we get up and running for real, come July 1, it'll be hot.
Check it out.
It's free to register at Live365, and then you get access to loads of internet radio stations. Some of them are fantastic. When you get to the search page, punch in BCRP, and you'll get a link to it. Don't expect a whole lot for now, but once we get up and running for real, come July 1, it'll be hot.
Check it out.
Monday, May 30, 2005
SASQUATCH
By about 5pm yesterday, the whole trip was worth it. At risk of sounding like a histrionic fanboy, everything I've heard about the Arcade Fire live is true, and then some. Their set yesterday, Saturday afternoon at the Sasquatch Music Festival in the Gorge Ampitheater, was without a doubt one of the highlight musical experiences I've ever had. In the middle of a blistering day in the desert of central Washington, these 7 Canadians in formal wear, buttoned to the neck more often than not, dressed for a funeral, went into the red from the very first notes of the opener "Wake Up." By the first chorus of Whooooooaaaa--Ohhhhh's, I knew this show was gonna hit me like a board to the head. Thwack. And it did.
It was a very very long day, but by and large the quality of shows made up for the heat and the price gouging. Early sets by Bloc Party and Ray Lamontagne were both fantastic, though the former was plagued by technical difficulties. Lamontagne may will be my own biggest discovery of the weekend, as every tune he played seemed like something I will often want to listen to at home. He's got a great voice and he uses it to full effect without getting too bogged down in it.
After the Arcade Fire blew the whole show apart, I wondered how Wilco would ever follow it. But they did, and very well. They came out and did their own thing, which is a very different thing from the Arcade Fire, and it was outstanding from front to back. Muzzle of Bees and Spiders (Kidsmoke) opened the set, which leaned heavily on the new record.
Kanye West put on a good show, though live rap to me is always a bit odd and underwhelming. But it gave me a chance to go sit down and rest up for the evening.
Modest Mouse, possibly getting the most excitement out of the crowd, kinda sucked, as they've been known to. They started late, wandered onstage after a half hour, and went through the motions on a few lame tracks--Float On, Dramamine, and a few of his Tom-Waits-impersonation banjo tunes. Crap. I made my way back up to my seat in the grass just in time for him to turn it up a bit and get serious, and the last half hour of the set was far better. Still, though, little Isaac is a bit of a petulant primadonna, and I find it harder and harder to forgive his live lameness. For fuck's sake, there are like 7 people in the band, including a totally superfluous second drummer, and they sound hollower than when they were a trio. Disappointing.
The headliners, The Pixies, however, did not fail to please. All business, they came out and thrashed our asses for a solid hour and a half, not talking, not doing anything but playing their asses off. Great set.
So Sasquatch was a great time, and I'd even consider going back again, even though I thought I was done with such giganto-festivals. A show like The Arcade Fire can change your mind about a lot of things.
It was a very very long day, but by and large the quality of shows made up for the heat and the price gouging. Early sets by Bloc Party and Ray Lamontagne were both fantastic, though the former was plagued by technical difficulties. Lamontagne may will be my own biggest discovery of the weekend, as every tune he played seemed like something I will often want to listen to at home. He's got a great voice and he uses it to full effect without getting too bogged down in it.
After the Arcade Fire blew the whole show apart, I wondered how Wilco would ever follow it. But they did, and very well. They came out and did their own thing, which is a very different thing from the Arcade Fire, and it was outstanding from front to back. Muzzle of Bees and Spiders (Kidsmoke) opened the set, which leaned heavily on the new record.
Kanye West put on a good show, though live rap to me is always a bit odd and underwhelming. But it gave me a chance to go sit down and rest up for the evening.
Modest Mouse, possibly getting the most excitement out of the crowd, kinda sucked, as they've been known to. They started late, wandered onstage after a half hour, and went through the motions on a few lame tracks--Float On, Dramamine, and a few of his Tom-Waits-impersonation banjo tunes. Crap. I made my way back up to my seat in the grass just in time for him to turn it up a bit and get serious, and the last half hour of the set was far better. Still, though, little Isaac is a bit of a petulant primadonna, and I find it harder and harder to forgive his live lameness. For fuck's sake, there are like 7 people in the band, including a totally superfluous second drummer, and they sound hollower than when they were a trio. Disappointing.
The headliners, The Pixies, however, did not fail to please. All business, they came out and thrashed our asses for a solid hour and a half, not talking, not doing anything but playing their asses off. Great set.
So Sasquatch was a great time, and I'd even consider going back again, even though I thought I was done with such giganto-festivals. A show like The Arcade Fire can change your mind about a lot of things.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Testing
We ran a beta of the BCRP webcast this weekend. I can't say for sure whether it went well or not, but I know that for a while we were on the air. Or on the web. Whatever. I've been having some machinery issues at home, so I was only able to upload a single set of tracks with no voiceovers or PSAs attached to it. Got some good tunes up there, but that's about as far as it went.
And now, in the wake of that, we're possibly changing direction from Live365 hosting our library to our broadcasting, essentially, live from a studio. Where that studio will be is as yet unknown, but Jeff is seriously looking into monitors and a mixing board and mikes and all that hardware, like for a real live studio.
Also, the acronym PD has been floating around a bit lately, pushed gently in my direction. Program Director. Thing is, I don't know what the job is all about. I'm interested, to be sure, but not sure if I'm capable. But then being capable is just a matter of learning the job and what it entails and putting the time in. Interesting, though. We'll see.
And now, in the wake of that, we're possibly changing direction from Live365 hosting our library to our broadcasting, essentially, live from a studio. Where that studio will be is as yet unknown, but Jeff is seriously looking into monitors and a mixing board and mikes and all that hardware, like for a real live studio.
Also, the acronym PD has been floating around a bit lately, pushed gently in my direction. Program Director. Thing is, I don't know what the job is all about. I'm interested, to be sure, but not sure if I'm capable. But then being capable is just a matter of learning the job and what it entails and putting the time in. Interesting, though. We'll see.
Monday, May 16, 2005
Dangerous Thoughts
What started out as a simple set of blog entries on a long weekend visit to Austin has turned into something more complicated. Basically, I had a great time down there and have been plunged into a whirlpool of doubt and second guessing about where I am now and why I ever left there in the first place.
At present, we have no plans to return to Austin permanently. But I find it interesting and a little worrying that both Cathy and I are talking about it fairly often. I think she had the same experience when she went to Austin in March for SXSW.
We love Boise in many ways. We've made a few good friends here, we have a nice house in a good spot, we both have decent jobs that pay the bills, and we have access to more of the wide-open Western outdoors than we could ever have imagined. That's what got us here in the first place. But lately, it seems, we're missing the things we gave up when we moved more than we're enjoying the things we gained. I find that in Austin I have stronger connections to people, Eric and Harlan specifically but others more generally, than I've been able to forge here. Perhaps that's my resistance, but more I think it's having common interests. Art and music are on the backburner in this town. People don't pay much attention to it except as a diversion. That's unacceptable to me.
Anyway, we're still sorting all this out. I doubt we're going anywhere, but I can't stop thinking what if. What if.
At present, we have no plans to return to Austin permanently. But I find it interesting and a little worrying that both Cathy and I are talking about it fairly often. I think she had the same experience when she went to Austin in March for SXSW.
We love Boise in many ways. We've made a few good friends here, we have a nice house in a good spot, we both have decent jobs that pay the bills, and we have access to more of the wide-open Western outdoors than we could ever have imagined. That's what got us here in the first place. But lately, it seems, we're missing the things we gave up when we moved more than we're enjoying the things we gained. I find that in Austin I have stronger connections to people, Eric and Harlan specifically but others more generally, than I've been able to forge here. Perhaps that's my resistance, but more I think it's having common interests. Art and music are on the backburner in this town. People don't pay much attention to it except as a diversion. That's unacceptable to me.
Anyway, we're still sorting all this out. I doubt we're going anywhere, but I can't stop thinking what if. What if.
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
AUSTIN
Back from Austin. Brain and legs hurt. Stomach in knots.
What a fantastic time.
As expected, my visit back to wonderful Austin, TX was about as much fun as my 35-year-old body can handle these days. We ate, we drank, we rode, and we took in as much music as we could. It was exactly the trip I wanted--and more importantly, it was exactly the trip I needed. I feel refreshed, recharged. My scowl is gone. My brain feels lighter.
I'd been having a tough time of it here in Boise lately. I feel disconnected--or, more accurately, unconnected. But being in Austin for a long weekend got me thinking like myself again. Unfortunately, it got me thinking in ways that may not help me stay here in Boise for the long term, but better to realize and deal with that than to just keep making myself be happy somewhere I don't want to be. But, that's the stuff for another entry.
Now: The trip started off perfectly, rolling from the airport in Eric's car (beer and hitter handed off dutifully as ever, as soon as I took the passenger seat) to Polvo's, one of my favorite Tex Mex joints, where the parking lot and patio were jammed with beer-drinking locals and a Mariachi band was pumping the tunes out in celebration of Cinco de Mayo. Perfect. Before I knew it I had a Negro Modelo in my hand and was catching up with Harlan, Eric, and Kodi, and was meeting Eric's new girlfriend Wendy.
The first food to hit my tastebuds in Austin was a tortilla chip dunked in Polvo's legendary black salsa. Appropriate, and amazingly delicious. Dinner that night, not eaten til long about 10pm, was a plate of al pastor that I'd been dreaming about eating for weeks now. And it only got better from there. The weekend included visits to Juan in a Million (Don Juan taco and machacado taco for breakfast), Hai Ky (eye of round and meatball pho), and Cooper's Barbecue (so much meat it'd be disgusting to list it here). Ate like a champ.
And drank like one too. Loads of Shiner Bock filled my belly daily, watching the likes of Rilo Kiley, The Ponys, The Gourds, and a handful of other bands. It was good to be surrounded by people who give a shit about music. It was great, actually.
Rode my legs into dust as well. Had a couple great mountain bike rides, one in Travis Country on the Greenbelt, one at Broken Oak Ranch in Valley Mills, and a long road roade around the rolling hills of Austin. Spent a good day out at Wendy's family's ranch in Burnet, driving and hiking around with a cooler full of Tecates.
It felt good to be there. To sit and read at Flipnotics, to have lunch with Harold and catch up on his life, to hang with the Yeti for probably the last time, and just to sit on Eric's front porch and be.
It's tough to adjust to being back, but I know I'm happier now, more pleasant to be around. It's been difficult since returning from our trip abroad in December to readjust and make myself engage here. I don't know what it is. I feel sort of hanging, lost out on my own in the midst of a place where I don't quite connect with people. That's not gone, but at least I feel good for now. Boise's a great place--I just wonder if it's the right place for me.
For now, it will have to be. But it's good to know that the future's not all locked up. It never is--sometimes it just takes some reminding to realize it.
What a fantastic time.
As expected, my visit back to wonderful Austin, TX was about as much fun as my 35-year-old body can handle these days. We ate, we drank, we rode, and we took in as much music as we could. It was exactly the trip I wanted--and more importantly, it was exactly the trip I needed. I feel refreshed, recharged. My scowl is gone. My brain feels lighter.
I'd been having a tough time of it here in Boise lately. I feel disconnected--or, more accurately, unconnected. But being in Austin for a long weekend got me thinking like myself again. Unfortunately, it got me thinking in ways that may not help me stay here in Boise for the long term, but better to realize and deal with that than to just keep making myself be happy somewhere I don't want to be. But, that's the stuff for another entry.
Now: The trip started off perfectly, rolling from the airport in Eric's car (beer and hitter handed off dutifully as ever, as soon as I took the passenger seat) to Polvo's, one of my favorite Tex Mex joints, where the parking lot and patio were jammed with beer-drinking locals and a Mariachi band was pumping the tunes out in celebration of Cinco de Mayo. Perfect. Before I knew it I had a Negro Modelo in my hand and was catching up with Harlan, Eric, and Kodi, and was meeting Eric's new girlfriend Wendy.
The first food to hit my tastebuds in Austin was a tortilla chip dunked in Polvo's legendary black salsa. Appropriate, and amazingly delicious. Dinner that night, not eaten til long about 10pm, was a plate of al pastor that I'd been dreaming about eating for weeks now. And it only got better from there. The weekend included visits to Juan in a Million (Don Juan taco and machacado taco for breakfast), Hai Ky (eye of round and meatball pho), and Cooper's Barbecue (so much meat it'd be disgusting to list it here). Ate like a champ.
And drank like one too. Loads of Shiner Bock filled my belly daily, watching the likes of Rilo Kiley, The Ponys, The Gourds, and a handful of other bands. It was good to be surrounded by people who give a shit about music. It was great, actually.
Rode my legs into dust as well. Had a couple great mountain bike rides, one in Travis Country on the Greenbelt, one at Broken Oak Ranch in Valley Mills, and a long road roade around the rolling hills of Austin. Spent a good day out at Wendy's family's ranch in Burnet, driving and hiking around with a cooler full of Tecates.
It felt good to be there. To sit and read at Flipnotics, to have lunch with Harold and catch up on his life, to hang with the Yeti for probably the last time, and just to sit on Eric's front porch and be.
It's tough to adjust to being back, but I know I'm happier now, more pleasant to be around. It's been difficult since returning from our trip abroad in December to readjust and make myself engage here. I don't know what it is. I feel sort of hanging, lost out on my own in the midst of a place where I don't quite connect with people. That's not gone, but at least I feel good for now. Boise's a great place--I just wonder if it's the right place for me.
For now, it will have to be. But it's good to know that the future's not all locked up. It never is--sometimes it just takes some reminding to realize it.
Saturday, April 30, 2005
Geeked
Tiger is coming!
I never thought I'd see the day that the release of a new operating system would have me all excited and anticipatory and everything. But that day's come. The new Mac OS is on the way and I'm actually really looking forward to it. It'll change a lot, and I'm planning to complement it with a new external hard drive and a boost in RAM. This'll be just like a brand new machine. And even though it's a lowly G3 iBook, it still purrs like a kitten and does everything I ask it to. Though I need more space for music. Hence the new hard drive.
Anyway.
Dork.
I never thought I'd see the day that the release of a new operating system would have me all excited and anticipatory and everything. But that day's come. The new Mac OS is on the way and I'm actually really looking forward to it. It'll change a lot, and I'm planning to complement it with a new external hard drive and a boost in RAM. This'll be just like a brand new machine. And even though it's a lowly G3 iBook, it still purrs like a kitten and does everything I ask it to. Though I need more space for music. Hence the new hard drive.
Anyway.
Dork.
Thursday, April 28, 2005
Moving to Radio
I've been working quite a bit, ever since I got back from traveling in December, as a volunteer for the Boise Community Radio Project. I heard about it last year but didn't do anything about it until I got an e-mail forwarded to me by David Varner about a volunteer meeting. I showed up, and months later, I seem to have found myself another Diverse Arts.
Speaking of whom: They had a fire. DiverseArts is a non-profit arts organization in Austin where I worked for about 7 or 8 years. I worked mainly on their magazine, as writer and editor and Managing Editor and in any other capacity I could or would. I helped with Jazz Fest a little, with smaller shows a bit, and generally did whatever I could for Harold, the founder. Harold's got vision, and like many people with vision who try to turn that vision into a functioning reality, he's had a hard time of it. Things go well, things go not so well, and the tide of money available to arts organizations involved in the finer but less lucrative forms becomes ever harder to stick your feet into. But he persevered, put on good shows, did his thing his way and earned the respect of any who knew or worked with him. He's passionate, and I learned a lot from the years I spent working for him.
The office building where they kept their office and gallery space, up on Guadalupe around 17th St., burned in late January, and they sustained quite a bit of damage--they and many of the other artists and art groups who kept space there. I don't know any details beyond that, but I hope to get together with Harold when I get to Austin next weekend.
So, BCRP. Today Jeff Abrams, the guy running the show, offered me the position of Music Director. Pretty exciting, though I don't really know what that means. But I got to admit, I like the sound of it. This could be the thing I've been looking to get involved in, to sink my teeth into and live for music again, in a way that I never have but have always wanted to. I always wanted to be a DJ (who doesn't?), and for some reason I never pursued it beyond DJing in a rock club on off weekend nights in college. That was fun, but the radio is where I wanted to be.
Things have changed a lot for the medium, but I think it's more an exciting time and season to thrive than it is any sort of death knell for radio. Radio and the internet work together beautifully, and with a solid plan we could be viable and alive and an important component in improving the cultural life of this city.
I haven't officially accepted the offer yet, pending a conversation about what all I'd be doing in that spot, but I have a feeling I've already decided. Time to get into it. Time to make it happen and start an entire new phase of life.
Speaking of whom: They had a fire. DiverseArts is a non-profit arts organization in Austin where I worked for about 7 or 8 years. I worked mainly on their magazine, as writer and editor and Managing Editor and in any other capacity I could or would. I helped with Jazz Fest a little, with smaller shows a bit, and generally did whatever I could for Harold, the founder. Harold's got vision, and like many people with vision who try to turn that vision into a functioning reality, he's had a hard time of it. Things go well, things go not so well, and the tide of money available to arts organizations involved in the finer but less lucrative forms becomes ever harder to stick your feet into. But he persevered, put on good shows, did his thing his way and earned the respect of any who knew or worked with him. He's passionate, and I learned a lot from the years I spent working for him.
The office building where they kept their office and gallery space, up on Guadalupe around 17th St., burned in late January, and they sustained quite a bit of damage--they and many of the other artists and art groups who kept space there. I don't know any details beyond that, but I hope to get together with Harold when I get to Austin next weekend.
So, BCRP. Today Jeff Abrams, the guy running the show, offered me the position of Music Director. Pretty exciting, though I don't really know what that means. But I got to admit, I like the sound of it. This could be the thing I've been looking to get involved in, to sink my teeth into and live for music again, in a way that I never have but have always wanted to. I always wanted to be a DJ (who doesn't?), and for some reason I never pursued it beyond DJing in a rock club on off weekend nights in college. That was fun, but the radio is where I wanted to be.
Things have changed a lot for the medium, but I think it's more an exciting time and season to thrive than it is any sort of death knell for radio. Radio and the internet work together beautifully, and with a solid plan we could be viable and alive and an important component in improving the cultural life of this city.
I haven't officially accepted the offer yet, pending a conversation about what all I'd be doing in that spot, but I have a feeling I've already decided. Time to get into it. Time to make it happen and start an entire new phase of life.
Sunday, April 24, 2005
5 Mile Creek
Today I took the mutts on a hike up 5 Mile Creek, as I do many weekends. It's a great hike in a little used section of the foothills here, and more days than not I don't see anyone else the whole time I'm out there. Today, with storm clouds rolling over the hilltops and the look of rain in the air, would be no different.
I set out with some fairly firm time limits, but I didn't have to pay attention to them, really. I ended up taking the trail farther than I ever had before, and I ended up all the way up on Boise Ridge Road, right at the junction with trail 4, Hull's Ridge Trail. A spot I'd never been to. It was fantastic having walked all the way there.
I made it to the top in just over an hour and a half, and after a short food rest break, was down in a little over an hour. Granted, I was moving at a good clip, but it's good to know a hike like that is possible without a huge time commitment.
Up at the top of the ridge, sheltered in the pine trees and looking over the other side into the Boise Mountains and on toward the Sawtooths, it's a whole different world than the lower foothills. And it's trips up to that area, like today, that I need to remind me of the fairly endless possibilities for hiking right out my back door.
I set out with some fairly firm time limits, but I didn't have to pay attention to them, really. I ended up taking the trail farther than I ever had before, and I ended up all the way up on Boise Ridge Road, right at the junction with trail 4, Hull's Ridge Trail. A spot I'd never been to. It was fantastic having walked all the way there.
I made it to the top in just over an hour and a half, and after a short food rest break, was down in a little over an hour. Granted, I was moving at a good clip, but it's good to know a hike like that is possible without a huge time commitment.
Up at the top of the ridge, sheltered in the pine trees and looking over the other side into the Boise Mountains and on toward the Sawtooths, it's a whole different world than the lower foothills. And it's trips up to that area, like today, that I need to remind me of the fairly endless possibilities for hiking right out my back door.
Friday, April 22, 2005
M83 Sucks?
Times like this I wish someone actually read this blog.
I'm slogging my way through the new M83 album, Before the Dawn Heals Us, for the 3rd of 4th time, and I just don't get it. I was really excited to buy this thing, having read a bunch about them and heard a few tracks on internet radio. Hell, even Pitchfork liked it. (Shows what they know.) But this isn't what I signed up for--at least not that I remember.
This, simply put, is a French rock band. Read: sucky. It's all grandiose drum and guitar flourishes, pseudo-operatic keyboard tones and vocal constructs, just too gigantic-posturing musical movements full of nothing but glittery noise and fields full of fairies.
Funny thing is, when I heard some songs off it, they ALWAYS caught my attention and made me want to rush out and buy this. And now that I have it I'm nothing but disappointed.
Anyone? A little help?
I'll keep trying with this one, but hope is diminishing.
I'm slogging my way through the new M83 album, Before the Dawn Heals Us, for the 3rd of 4th time, and I just don't get it. I was really excited to buy this thing, having read a bunch about them and heard a few tracks on internet radio. Hell, even Pitchfork liked it. (Shows what they know.) But this isn't what I signed up for--at least not that I remember.
This, simply put, is a French rock band. Read: sucky. It's all grandiose drum and guitar flourishes, pseudo-operatic keyboard tones and vocal constructs, just too gigantic-posturing musical movements full of nothing but glittery noise and fields full of fairies.
Funny thing is, when I heard some songs off it, they ALWAYS caught my attention and made me want to rush out and buy this. And now that I have it I'm nothing but disappointed.
Anyone? A little help?
I'll keep trying with this one, but hope is diminishing.
Earth Day Is Not Just for Hippies
Dirt-worn fields full of patchouli-stinkin kids kicking bean bags in the air.
Ratty dreads on white people, bad songs that last way too long.
Self-righteous lip service from SUV-driving new-bohemian-wannabes (bobos?).
Earth Day is a good thing. Unfortunately, this is what most people think of when they think of Earth Day. Instead of thinking of it as some sort of lifestyle-confirming all-day jam-band festival, think of Earth Day as a chance to examine your life and your daily actions and routines and consider in a fresh light how your moving through this life impacts your planet. And before you get all new-agey on me: Your planet is your house, your yard, your neighborhood, the streets you travel to get to work and back, the trails you run or ride or walk, the landfill where all your trash goes--all the physical spaces your living impacts.
Of course, everyone impacts everything. We're all connected to everyone and everything else. And that's the truth. But as this concept is so big that it is meaningless to many people, the best approach is to look closely at your own life and change what you can. Recycle that cardboard instead of smashing it in the trash bin. Ride your bike to the store instead of driving. Take walks in your neighborhood instead of driving to the greenbelt. Shop locally instead of driving to big box land. Water your lawn deeply once a week instead of 3 or 4 times a week. Mow that lawn early or late instead of in the heat of the day. Buy food and other products with less packaging. Buy organic. And on and on.
It's the little changes, piled on top of each other, that can make a true difference, because these are the things that can become a permanent part of your life.
You don't have to be a hippie to be responsible for your world. Just be smart.
Ratty dreads on white people, bad songs that last way too long.
Self-righteous lip service from SUV-driving new-bohemian-wannabes (bobos?).
Earth Day is a good thing. Unfortunately, this is what most people think of when they think of Earth Day. Instead of thinking of it as some sort of lifestyle-confirming all-day jam-band festival, think of Earth Day as a chance to examine your life and your daily actions and routines and consider in a fresh light how your moving through this life impacts your planet. And before you get all new-agey on me: Your planet is your house, your yard, your neighborhood, the streets you travel to get to work and back, the trails you run or ride or walk, the landfill where all your trash goes--all the physical spaces your living impacts.
Of course, everyone impacts everything. We're all connected to everyone and everything else. And that's the truth. But as this concept is so big that it is meaningless to many people, the best approach is to look closely at your own life and change what you can. Recycle that cardboard instead of smashing it in the trash bin. Ride your bike to the store instead of driving. Take walks in your neighborhood instead of driving to the greenbelt. Shop locally instead of driving to big box land. Water your lawn deeply once a week instead of 3 or 4 times a week. Mow that lawn early or late instead of in the heat of the day. Buy food and other products with less packaging. Buy organic. And on and on.
It's the little changes, piled on top of each other, that can make a true difference, because these are the things that can become a permanent part of your life.
You don't have to be a hippie to be responsible for your world. Just be smart.
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
TV on the Radio
Every so often, I come across music that seizes my attention and gets inside me for reasons I don't quite understand. The frequency with which this occurs depends almost entirely on how engaged I am with seeking out new music--as opposed to cruising through back catalogs and revisiting the old stuff. Or just being a lazy ass and not paying attention. Right now, I'm in full-on seeker mode, and I've returned to TV on the Radio to find out what it is about these guys that grabs me so hard.
I've sort of come at this band from the backdoor, so to speak. My attention was first caught with New Health Rock, off their latest EP. I'd hear it on KEXP, turned fairly low on not so horrible computer speakers at work, and would shut my door and turn it up as loud as I could get away with. The beat haunted me, seeking out my fingertips and toes and tapping itself out at any still moment, and the vocals were freaky streaming hip-hop prose like I'd never heard it.
I sought out other tunes, but for whatever reason I didn't dig deeper than just a quick listen.
Finally, last night, I bought Desperate Youth, Bloodthirsty Babes, their first full-length record, off iTunes. For the first few minutes I thought "What have I done?" It was a lot like the feeling I had after buying the new M83 album (more on that another time). But, the more I listen, especially this morning in headphones while doing some mechanical work, I realize that this stuff is fantastic.
There's something weirdly mesmerizing about the vocals of Tunde Adebimpe, not to mention that effect jumping to another level entirely when both he and Kyp Malone harmonize, low and droll mixed with a falsetto that makes Beck look even more foolish doing it than he did on his own. This is real singing, not tongue-in-cheek-mockery for the sake of a slow jam, and every tune is so tight, so uniquely itself, that I just sit and listen, mouth agape, a slow grin forming.
Poppy rocks, and Wear You Out is an amazing tune, a meditation in the moment of an impending sexing-up of some anonymous lady. Staring at the Sun is really the only song I'd heard before on this record--it doesn't really lend itself to singledom--and it stacks up nicely to the rest. I'm still digesting this record, but I wanted to get some words out to try and capture the wonder and bafflement and joy I'm experiencing in trying to figure it out. (That's a big benefit blogs have over published criticism--you can flesh it out in print.)
Further, after work today, after a meeting tonight, I came home and bought the Young Liars EP, which caused such a shitstorm of attention when it came out. Now, at this moment, I sit here listening to this for the first time, and I am impressed. It's like the other one but, maybe, better. So far at least. The title track is pulsing through my headphones right now, part of a continuum of somehow soulfully mechanical music, any organic parts repeated and buried as to be a part of the larger tonal shift that is the melody. And the vocals--that's the thing, the music is so droning, so consistent and simple and gorgeous and monotonous, because the focus is the vocals.
This record's vocals are all Adebimpe, layers of his voice piled on top of each other, to amazing effect. Especially now--his treatment of the Pixies' Mr. Grieves is just knocking me out. Snapping fingers behind 3-part harmonies with a couple lead lines over that. Just brilliant. Amazing.
Mostly, there's nothing in my mind to compare this to. I'm ill-prepared for what this is doing to my brain. Which is a good thing. In this my year of rediscovering music, it's very appropriate to be thrown for a loop like this.
Also, if you're interested, check out the band's blog. There's some crazy shit going on in these brains.
I've sort of come at this band from the backdoor, so to speak. My attention was first caught with New Health Rock, off their latest EP. I'd hear it on KEXP, turned fairly low on not so horrible computer speakers at work, and would shut my door and turn it up as loud as I could get away with. The beat haunted me, seeking out my fingertips and toes and tapping itself out at any still moment, and the vocals were freaky streaming hip-hop prose like I'd never heard it.
I sought out other tunes, but for whatever reason I didn't dig deeper than just a quick listen.
Finally, last night, I bought Desperate Youth, Bloodthirsty Babes, their first full-length record, off iTunes. For the first few minutes I thought "What have I done?" It was a lot like the feeling I had after buying the new M83 album (more on that another time). But, the more I listen, especially this morning in headphones while doing some mechanical work, I realize that this stuff is fantastic.
There's something weirdly mesmerizing about the vocals of Tunde Adebimpe, not to mention that effect jumping to another level entirely when both he and Kyp Malone harmonize, low and droll mixed with a falsetto that makes Beck look even more foolish doing it than he did on his own. This is real singing, not tongue-in-cheek-mockery for the sake of a slow jam, and every tune is so tight, so uniquely itself, that I just sit and listen, mouth agape, a slow grin forming.
Poppy rocks, and Wear You Out is an amazing tune, a meditation in the moment of an impending sexing-up of some anonymous lady. Staring at the Sun is really the only song I'd heard before on this record--it doesn't really lend itself to singledom--and it stacks up nicely to the rest. I'm still digesting this record, but I wanted to get some words out to try and capture the wonder and bafflement and joy I'm experiencing in trying to figure it out. (That's a big benefit blogs have over published criticism--you can flesh it out in print.)
Further, after work today, after a meeting tonight, I came home and bought the Young Liars EP, which caused such a shitstorm of attention when it came out. Now, at this moment, I sit here listening to this for the first time, and I am impressed. It's like the other one but, maybe, better. So far at least. The title track is pulsing through my headphones right now, part of a continuum of somehow soulfully mechanical music, any organic parts repeated and buried as to be a part of the larger tonal shift that is the melody. And the vocals--that's the thing, the music is so droning, so consistent and simple and gorgeous and monotonous, because the focus is the vocals.
This record's vocals are all Adebimpe, layers of his voice piled on top of each other, to amazing effect. Especially now--his treatment of the Pixies' Mr. Grieves is just knocking me out. Snapping fingers behind 3-part harmonies with a couple lead lines over that. Just brilliant. Amazing.
Mostly, there's nothing in my mind to compare this to. I'm ill-prepared for what this is doing to my brain. Which is a good thing. In this my year of rediscovering music, it's very appropriate to be thrown for a loop like this.
Also, if you're interested, check out the band's blog. There's some crazy shit going on in these brains.
Monday, April 18, 2005
Spring Weekends
I'm dwelling on spring. Changes in temperature, lengthening days, dry trails, and everything blooming have me all swept up in the change of seasons. Every year since moving back northward from TX I spend a lot of time thinking and talking and writing about how much I missed a true change of seasons over the decade I spent in Austin, and here I am doing it again.
I love spring!
Took a long, crazy, stupid mountain bike ride with Will on Saturday, up and over Lucky Peak from the Council Springs access. It was a huge ride, clearing about a 3000+ foot gain over the course of about 6.5 miles. That's more drastic than the climb to Columbine Mine on the Leadville course. It hurt, badly, and I had to stop once because the dirt road tilted up a bit too roughly for me. Even rockin the new 24T granny I just ran out of push to get the pedal over the top.
It took a couple hours of steady trudging (counting a 4-mile slog on the greenbelt against a STIFF headwind just to get to the trailhead), but after some big pain and some mild cursing, we topped out. I tagged the antenna on top of the peak (TAG motherfucker!) before we headed back down the other side.
From there we descended trails 9 and E, connecting to the West Highland Summit trail, which I hadn't been on since riding it my first summer here with Bob and Leslie. Great, hard ride that knackered both of us. Good to be killing myself on the IF again.
The rest of the weekend was split between lounging and yard work. In those ratios I actually enjoy the labor (with a good fuel-base of my own Texas Two Step to keep me going all day, of course). The yard's looking good, the bikes are running smooth, the house is in order (except for that goddam bathroom fan).
So. Nothing to report, but sometimes just acknowledging that things are fine just fine is enough. Yes?
I love spring!
Took a long, crazy, stupid mountain bike ride with Will on Saturday, up and over Lucky Peak from the Council Springs access. It was a huge ride, clearing about a 3000+ foot gain over the course of about 6.5 miles. That's more drastic than the climb to Columbine Mine on the Leadville course. It hurt, badly, and I had to stop once because the dirt road tilted up a bit too roughly for me. Even rockin the new 24T granny I just ran out of push to get the pedal over the top.
It took a couple hours of steady trudging (counting a 4-mile slog on the greenbelt against a STIFF headwind just to get to the trailhead), but after some big pain and some mild cursing, we topped out. I tagged the antenna on top of the peak (TAG motherfucker!) before we headed back down the other side.
From there we descended trails 9 and E, connecting to the West Highland Summit trail, which I hadn't been on since riding it my first summer here with Bob and Leslie. Great, hard ride that knackered both of us. Good to be killing myself on the IF again.
The rest of the weekend was split between lounging and yard work. In those ratios I actually enjoy the labor (with a good fuel-base of my own Texas Two Step to keep me going all day, of course). The yard's looking good, the bikes are running smooth, the house is in order (except for that goddam bathroom fan).
So. Nothing to report, but sometimes just acknowledging that things are fine just fine is enough. Yes?
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
Stars Descending, Stars Staying Strong
Last night at the Big Easy here in Boise, ID, a double bill right out of my Texas past offered too much to miss. The Reverend Horton Heat headlined, with the opening slot filled by none other than the Supersuckers. 10 years ago, these bands were right near the top of my list of rock shows that make a weekend great. I've seen each of them at least a dozen times in my life, likely more than that, and they constitute a big part of a memorable and important step in my own development as a music freak.
(Note: Portland act I Can Lick Any Son of a Bitch in the House opened the evening, but as I could give a flying fuck about them, I missed them. I've seen them a few times here in Boise, and while the first experience was enjoyable enough, the novelty wore off quickly, and the music came into focus as the boring and uninspired batch of basic cowshitpunk that it is.)
So, with all that history aboard, I made my way to this show--ticket price a mere $7.50, due to advance purchase by a friend--wondering if I'd be horribly let down or re-connected to a big part of my past. In a way, neither of these things happened, but it was revelatory in other ways.
The Supersuckers started slow, haltingly almost. It was loud, and they were into it--sort of--but there was something missing. They all looked a little fatter and slower than in years past, but aren't we all? That wasn't it. Different drummer, but he proved more than capable as the night wore on. And that's the thing--the night wore on, the beers went down, and the band rose to the occasion. Eddie Spaghetti rallied the crowd with all the charm and charisma I've ever seen out of him. I was reminded how, the first time I saw them, at Emo's around 94 or so, I thought he had to be THE coolest motherfucker ever to strap on a bass guitar. Last night, he was that guy again. The Supersuckers keep tongue in cheek without turning to parody and without losing the edge in their music. A few new tunes seemed not quite up to snuff, but it's difficult to say whether that's because they took time to warm up or because the songs just aren't very good. Likely it's a little of both. But whatever--by the time they stormed through Creepy Jackalope Eye at the end of the set, and then especially during encore Born With a Tail, I was convinced. These guys SHOULD still be doing this thing. They are still, in many ways, the greatest rock band in the world.
The RevHo, however, was a different story. He's a showman to be sure. He's gone through some less-than-impressive attempts at change in his music and his live show, but what it comes down to is showmanship in the shtickiest sense. It's all routine by now, and it's been wearing thin for a while. Every song sounded as familiar as if it were stuck in my carousel shuffle for years, and this applied even to songs I knew were new. Martini Time grated as ever, and when he got to the lengthy introduction of band members, which now includes The Jimbo Song complete with audience participation, I knew it was time to go. The Rev is stuck in a velvet rut--he packs houses with his shtick, but the crowds are not the same as they used to be. The people there were not so demanding as I. The new was not important. The people wanted the same show they saw last time. And they got it.
(Note: Portland act I Can Lick Any Son of a Bitch in the House opened the evening, but as I could give a flying fuck about them, I missed them. I've seen them a few times here in Boise, and while the first experience was enjoyable enough, the novelty wore off quickly, and the music came into focus as the boring and uninspired batch of basic cowshitpunk that it is.)
So, with all that history aboard, I made my way to this show--ticket price a mere $7.50, due to advance purchase by a friend--wondering if I'd be horribly let down or re-connected to a big part of my past. In a way, neither of these things happened, but it was revelatory in other ways.
The Supersuckers started slow, haltingly almost. It was loud, and they were into it--sort of--but there was something missing. They all looked a little fatter and slower than in years past, but aren't we all? That wasn't it. Different drummer, but he proved more than capable as the night wore on. And that's the thing--the night wore on, the beers went down, and the band rose to the occasion. Eddie Spaghetti rallied the crowd with all the charm and charisma I've ever seen out of him. I was reminded how, the first time I saw them, at Emo's around 94 or so, I thought he had to be THE coolest motherfucker ever to strap on a bass guitar. Last night, he was that guy again. The Supersuckers keep tongue in cheek without turning to parody and without losing the edge in their music. A few new tunes seemed not quite up to snuff, but it's difficult to say whether that's because they took time to warm up or because the songs just aren't very good. Likely it's a little of both. But whatever--by the time they stormed through Creepy Jackalope Eye at the end of the set, and then especially during encore Born With a Tail, I was convinced. These guys SHOULD still be doing this thing. They are still, in many ways, the greatest rock band in the world.
The RevHo, however, was a different story. He's a showman to be sure. He's gone through some less-than-impressive attempts at change in his music and his live show, but what it comes down to is showmanship in the shtickiest sense. It's all routine by now, and it's been wearing thin for a while. Every song sounded as familiar as if it were stuck in my carousel shuffle for years, and this applied even to songs I knew were new. Martini Time grated as ever, and when he got to the lengthy introduction of band members, which now includes The Jimbo Song complete with audience participation, I knew it was time to go. The Rev is stuck in a velvet rut--he packs houses with his shtick, but the crowds are not the same as they used to be. The people there were not so demanding as I. The new was not important. The people wanted the same show they saw last time. And they got it.
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Renew, Re-visit, Re-dedicate
Every so often, I find that I need to renew dedication to the things that are important to me. There is a time of recognition that I have drifted from a principle that I hold dear, or an activity that I know I need, or from a person that I don't want to lose. It's an unsettling moment, one that I usually try to deny or ignore or delay until a more convenient time, but once it's there it doesn't go away.
I stop eating as well as I should. I don't write as much as I should (perhaps the most common one). I don't treat my wife as well as I wish to, or don't spend enough time with her, or work hard enough to make our marriage great. Not logging enough miles on the bike, weighing in a bit too heavily on the bathroom scale, smoking and drinking too much, watching the idiot box instead of reading. The lists go on. It comes down to sliding from active, productive, fit and happy to comfortable, lazy, blissfully ignorant and sedentary. Of course, everything is relative, but when it gets to the point that I am aware and uncomfortable in my awareness, I know it's time to change.
I have a very good idea of who and what I want to be, and it's when I slip off the road to this state and begin to move away from achieving it that this need for renewal comes about.
For a long time this seemed a bad thing, this need to consciously re-commit to the things that I feel are important, that keep me happy and healthy and generally make life good. Why should I have to? Why aren't they as built-in to my life and days as breathing and sleeping and drinking water?
But now I see that the renewal is almost as important as that which is being renewed, if not more-so. Principle without action is hollow. It's politics. And as humans we are fallible. We slouch toward paths of least resistance as a matter of course, and when these paths are not the proper ones--when they are constructed for convenience and not betterment, ease rather than meaning--they are not only inappropriate but they are threatening to our very souls.
To renew is to acknowledge the things that make us who we are. It's a periodic reassessment to make sure that we, changing beings that we are, stick to the path that we want to be on. I imagine even Ghandi had to reevaluate himself and his life once in a while. And in the renewal I often find a renewed enthusiasm and love for whatever it is I'm focusing on. That rediscovery makes it all worthwhile.
So.
I will pay more and better attention to my wife, whom I love very much.
I will eat better, healthier, more frequent, smaller meals.
I will ramp up my ride/run schedule so that I have 1 and not 3-4 days off in a week. And on that day off, I will walk the dogs.
I will become angry less. To do this I will respond thoughtfully, not at the jerk of a knee; I will consider what is important to others as much as to myself; I will try to truly see things as others see them; I will constantly acknowledge that nothing is absolute and everything is relative; I will stick closer to the idea of learning everything, not knowing everything, and that a wise person is never afraid to not know something--it is from the not knowing that we learn and gain wisdom.
I will pay far greater and closer attention to books and music and far less to television.
I will cut the smoking and drinking down to a more reasonable level. This is not too far off, but I could definitely improve in the smoking arena.
And this is only the beginning.
I stop eating as well as I should. I don't write as much as I should (perhaps the most common one). I don't treat my wife as well as I wish to, or don't spend enough time with her, or work hard enough to make our marriage great. Not logging enough miles on the bike, weighing in a bit too heavily on the bathroom scale, smoking and drinking too much, watching the idiot box instead of reading. The lists go on. It comes down to sliding from active, productive, fit and happy to comfortable, lazy, blissfully ignorant and sedentary. Of course, everything is relative, but when it gets to the point that I am aware and uncomfortable in my awareness, I know it's time to change.
I have a very good idea of who and what I want to be, and it's when I slip off the road to this state and begin to move away from achieving it that this need for renewal comes about.
For a long time this seemed a bad thing, this need to consciously re-commit to the things that I feel are important, that keep me happy and healthy and generally make life good. Why should I have to? Why aren't they as built-in to my life and days as breathing and sleeping and drinking water?
But now I see that the renewal is almost as important as that which is being renewed, if not more-so. Principle without action is hollow. It's politics. And as humans we are fallible. We slouch toward paths of least resistance as a matter of course, and when these paths are not the proper ones--when they are constructed for convenience and not betterment, ease rather than meaning--they are not only inappropriate but they are threatening to our very souls.
To renew is to acknowledge the things that make us who we are. It's a periodic reassessment to make sure that we, changing beings that we are, stick to the path that we want to be on. I imagine even Ghandi had to reevaluate himself and his life once in a while. And in the renewal I often find a renewed enthusiasm and love for whatever it is I'm focusing on. That rediscovery makes it all worthwhile.
So.
I will pay more and better attention to my wife, whom I love very much.
I will eat better, healthier, more frequent, smaller meals.
I will ramp up my ride/run schedule so that I have 1 and not 3-4 days off in a week. And on that day off, I will walk the dogs.
I will become angry less. To do this I will respond thoughtfully, not at the jerk of a knee; I will consider what is important to others as much as to myself; I will try to truly see things as others see them; I will constantly acknowledge that nothing is absolute and everything is relative; I will stick closer to the idea of learning everything, not knowing everything, and that a wise person is never afraid to not know something--it is from the not knowing that we learn and gain wisdom.
I will pay far greater and closer attention to books and music and far less to television.
I will cut the smoking and drinking down to a more reasonable level. This is not too far off, but I could definitely improve in the smoking arena.
And this is only the beginning.
Rewintering
Just as we settle in with the idea that winter came to a premature and unceremonious conclusion this year, the snow's back on the peaks and the weather is turned cold again. Snow and mud commingle and shorts and sunblock are re-relegated to backseat status. Out again with the thick socks and winter coats and skis and gloves.
Re-opening and re-snowpacking of the local hills has people in a tizzy about last chances resurrected, and the effect on the brain of seesawing between two distinct seasons, the transition between which is normally heralded and affective enough, has brought downright confusion to my own brain and body, if not to the population at large.
The normal turning of thoughts in the spring is still happening, it's just that we get to experience it during winter conditions. And, I suspect, it will make the true arrival of spring something much more likely to be celebrated. The doom and gloom is on pause--no more incessant talk about what a rough summer it'll be and how we're doomed for months of fire and drought. Now, we hope. A good boating season. Good crops. Snow that sticks to the high country until at least early in the summer.
We pay close attention to these things, especially those of us who have abandoned the trend toward insulation from our world. We don't dash from AC home to AC car to AC work and back in reverse during the summer, and we relish the finer points of seasonal change. It marks the march of life. It divides our lives and memories into understandable and bookmarkable segments. It connects us to the world and to each other.
So, winter is back, though how briefly we don't know, and we love it.
Re-opening and re-snowpacking of the local hills has people in a tizzy about last chances resurrected, and the effect on the brain of seesawing between two distinct seasons, the transition between which is normally heralded and affective enough, has brought downright confusion to my own brain and body, if not to the population at large.
The normal turning of thoughts in the spring is still happening, it's just that we get to experience it during winter conditions. And, I suspect, it will make the true arrival of spring something much more likely to be celebrated. The doom and gloom is on pause--no more incessant talk about what a rough summer it'll be and how we're doomed for months of fire and drought. Now, we hope. A good boating season. Good crops. Snow that sticks to the high country until at least early in the summer.
We pay close attention to these things, especially those of us who have abandoned the trend toward insulation from our world. We don't dash from AC home to AC car to AC work and back in reverse during the summer, and we relish the finer points of seasonal change. It marks the march of life. It divides our lives and memories into understandable and bookmarkable segments. It connects us to the world and to each other.
So, winter is back, though how briefly we don't know, and we love it.
Monday, March 28, 2005
Yellowstone in Winter
I spent this past weekend in and around Yellowstone National Park. Every year, the park service starts to plow the roads into the park from West Yellowstone, MT, around the middle of March. Cars are not allowed in the park from this end until about a month later, in mid-April. So road cyclists have a unique and, so far, underused opportunity to see Yellowstone from the saddle without the lines of car traffic that have become so much a part of any visit to the park.
Yellowstone is an amazing place in the wintertime. The snow is somewhat thin on the hills on the western edge of the park, but the plains are largely covered as are the tops of most peaks. The bison are out in full force, with plenty of land exposed for them to graze on. Herds and herds are seen in the distance with striking regularity, though it seems too early still to see new calves. Still, they're amazing animals, their size made real when you come suddenly upon a group of 20 or 30 blocking the road ahead of you--you, who are standing, exposed, straddling a thin aluminum bike with a little foam helmet, facing off with a bull the size of a small tank. They seem calm, wary, but we are VERY careful around them. We grant them full right of way. We wait until they are well clear of the road before we proceed.
Me, Tim, John, and Tony drove out at around noon on Friday, making a beeline for the town of West Yellowstone. Just under 6 hours to get there--a gorgeous drive across highway 20, the desert turning to mountain and lingering on the border between, stretching east along the southern edge of the Boises, the far reaches of the Sawtooths, and the Lost Rivers. You can see each range approach as you cross the state, and it's strange to be so consistenly just out of their reach. This fertile crescent doesn't account for much elevation gain, but it sure does have some nice neighbors to the north.
We got rooms at the Brandin Iron Inn. Great deal. $52 for two, $57 with a full kitchen and dining area. Definitely the best deal in town. We considered a cabin, but it proved not worth the extra drive, expense, and effort.
Saturday we were on the bikes, along with Paul, and heading into the park at 10:45am. We would return about 6 hours later. The way in we had a good tailwind, shifting slightly but right around 10 or so. It was around 30 when we started, I'd guess, and close to 40 when we finished. Chilly but bearable. The weather leading up to the weekend was consistently cold and snowy, but it stayed just warm enough to keep the roads melted. The conditions for our ride were great. Blustery but not too cold, we sailed into the park with the wind at our backs.
We were about 2.5 hours out to Norris junction, after passing a nice waterfall and seeing loads of bison and elk. There we headed a quarter mile straight up to some Geysers where we sat and had lunch. Nice spot. From there, Paul and I continued out toward Canyon. We climbed a steady grade for about 3.5 miles to a pass where we got a great view into the next valley. But, not wanting to climb back out before heading 30 miles back into the wind, we turned back and made for the entrance.
We fully expected to catch the other three, but a couple herds of bison had other plans for us. The first delay, as a herd climbed the bank to the road just ahead of us and then proceeded to amble through a long stretch with steep banks up on one side and down on the other, us following a good distance behind, held us up for about 40 minutes. We got cold. We rode in circles. We talked to them. Much later, within 8 miles of the entrance, we hit another herd and waited about 15 minutes or so for them to clear off. Not so bad, but a good reminder to plan for unexpected delays.
We got back about 4:30, I think, tired and windblown and thrilled about the ride.
Next time, I'll wear sunscreen, too.
Sunday Tim and I went skiing at the Rendezvous trails. $5 fee, many kilometers of trail. A nice, well-marked system of rolling hills, up and down and again and again, some really fun and nicely groomed skiing. Skate skiing at this place would be out of sight. As it was, we had the backcountry nordic jobbies working, but it was a load of fun. We went about two solid hours, steady paced, and got back to the car just as John and Tony were finishing loading their stuff.
It was a long ride back, but it was a nice drive--especially since Tim did all the driving.
Yellowstone is an amazing place in the wintertime. The snow is somewhat thin on the hills on the western edge of the park, but the plains are largely covered as are the tops of most peaks. The bison are out in full force, with plenty of land exposed for them to graze on. Herds and herds are seen in the distance with striking regularity, though it seems too early still to see new calves. Still, they're amazing animals, their size made real when you come suddenly upon a group of 20 or 30 blocking the road ahead of you--you, who are standing, exposed, straddling a thin aluminum bike with a little foam helmet, facing off with a bull the size of a small tank. They seem calm, wary, but we are VERY careful around them. We grant them full right of way. We wait until they are well clear of the road before we proceed.
Me, Tim, John, and Tony drove out at around noon on Friday, making a beeline for the town of West Yellowstone. Just under 6 hours to get there--a gorgeous drive across highway 20, the desert turning to mountain and lingering on the border between, stretching east along the southern edge of the Boises, the far reaches of the Sawtooths, and the Lost Rivers. You can see each range approach as you cross the state, and it's strange to be so consistenly just out of their reach. This fertile crescent doesn't account for much elevation gain, but it sure does have some nice neighbors to the north.
We got rooms at the Brandin Iron Inn. Great deal. $52 for two, $57 with a full kitchen and dining area. Definitely the best deal in town. We considered a cabin, but it proved not worth the extra drive, expense, and effort.
Saturday we were on the bikes, along with Paul, and heading into the park at 10:45am. We would return about 6 hours later. The way in we had a good tailwind, shifting slightly but right around 10 or so. It was around 30 when we started, I'd guess, and close to 40 when we finished. Chilly but bearable. The weather leading up to the weekend was consistently cold and snowy, but it stayed just warm enough to keep the roads melted. The conditions for our ride were great. Blustery but not too cold, we sailed into the park with the wind at our backs.
We were about 2.5 hours out to Norris junction, after passing a nice waterfall and seeing loads of bison and elk. There we headed a quarter mile straight up to some Geysers where we sat and had lunch. Nice spot. From there, Paul and I continued out toward Canyon. We climbed a steady grade for about 3.5 miles to a pass where we got a great view into the next valley. But, not wanting to climb back out before heading 30 miles back into the wind, we turned back and made for the entrance.
We fully expected to catch the other three, but a couple herds of bison had other plans for us. The first delay, as a herd climbed the bank to the road just ahead of us and then proceeded to amble through a long stretch with steep banks up on one side and down on the other, us following a good distance behind, held us up for about 40 minutes. We got cold. We rode in circles. We talked to them. Much later, within 8 miles of the entrance, we hit another herd and waited about 15 minutes or so for them to clear off. Not so bad, but a good reminder to plan for unexpected delays.
We got back about 4:30, I think, tired and windblown and thrilled about the ride.
Next time, I'll wear sunscreen, too.
Sunday Tim and I went skiing at the Rendezvous trails. $5 fee, many kilometers of trail. A nice, well-marked system of rolling hills, up and down and again and again, some really fun and nicely groomed skiing. Skate skiing at this place would be out of sight. As it was, we had the backcountry nordic jobbies working, but it was a load of fun. We went about two solid hours, steady paced, and got back to the car just as John and Tony were finishing loading their stuff.
It was a long ride back, but it was a nice drive--especially since Tim did all the driving.
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Wake Up
It's nice to have woken up and rediscovered music again. I feel like I've been lost in the woods with a yellow waterproof walkman and a very small box of cassette tapes for about 3 years now. Now that I've stumbled out into the sun-soaked clearing, I find the world seems much bigger than when I left it. If then there was too much to manage, to keep up with, now--it's not even worth trying. And it's a beautiful thing.
A conscious effort to open my mind to all music, to exclude nothing from the realm of possibility, is proving worthwhile. We develop strong opinions about music. Prejudices. We use music to define ourselves, and therefore we reject things that we do not want to be a part of our images of ourselves. I used to dismiss all electronic music as bedroom laptop wanking. What an idiot. It's as rich a musical field as any in pop--and more than many, since it's essentially open to anyone with the time, equipment, and dedication. In fact, it seems to me that homemade versions of electronic music are the new punk rock. True DIY stuff--hell, you don't even have to know how to play an instrument.
We've met a few people here in Boise who are rabid enough fans of music to start a regular exchange of finds and ideas and favorite new and old stuff, and that's what does it. After leaving Austin, I felt on my own in this, and since I had consciously shifted my priorities from that life (of a Chronicle music critic type, slogging through show after show, consuming it like heroin, feeling that it was rare to hit on something life-changing but not wanting to give up the steady diet), I refocused and turned my attention to what this city and its surroundings have to offer.
I'm not changing that, necessarily. I'm still hooked on the wide open space and access of this empty state. But I don't have to shove music and the pursuit of that art form from my daily life. They can co-exist, and with the frenzied use of the internet within the music business nowadays, with the exception of a constant plethora of live shows, I can be as plugged-in here as I was in Austin. (And, to be fair, Boise's getting a much bigger and better selection of touring acts these days, which is very welcome.)
So. Good morning. Nice to hear you all again. Can't wait to find out what else is going on.
A conscious effort to open my mind to all music, to exclude nothing from the realm of possibility, is proving worthwhile. We develop strong opinions about music. Prejudices. We use music to define ourselves, and therefore we reject things that we do not want to be a part of our images of ourselves. I used to dismiss all electronic music as bedroom laptop wanking. What an idiot. It's as rich a musical field as any in pop--and more than many, since it's essentially open to anyone with the time, equipment, and dedication. In fact, it seems to me that homemade versions of electronic music are the new punk rock. True DIY stuff--hell, you don't even have to know how to play an instrument.
We've met a few people here in Boise who are rabid enough fans of music to start a regular exchange of finds and ideas and favorite new and old stuff, and that's what does it. After leaving Austin, I felt on my own in this, and since I had consciously shifted my priorities from that life (of a Chronicle music critic type, slogging through show after show, consuming it like heroin, feeling that it was rare to hit on something life-changing but not wanting to give up the steady diet), I refocused and turned my attention to what this city and its surroundings have to offer.
I'm not changing that, necessarily. I'm still hooked on the wide open space and access of this empty state. But I don't have to shove music and the pursuit of that art form from my daily life. They can co-exist, and with the frenzied use of the internet within the music business nowadays, with the exception of a constant plethora of live shows, I can be as plugged-in here as I was in Austin. (And, to be fair, Boise's getting a much bigger and better selection of touring acts these days, which is very welcome.)
So. Good morning. Nice to hear you all again. Can't wait to find out what else is going on.
Monday, February 14, 2005
Personal Space
This is the second blog I've started here. The publishing of my first is what made me realize that I'll need two. It's interesting to talk about privacy concerns in a forum meant to make information available to anyone in the world, but that's exactly what this is about. Selective privacy, I guess. Or maybe modified disclosure. To have a space where impressions or insights or tirades or poetry can be recorded and presented to a public that is mine to define. Not posting a flyer, but printing a limited number of fliers that are then discretely handed out to people who would appreciate them, with the implicit understanding that the people with fliers will be able to see all future fliers and perhaps even photocopy them and hand them out to anyone they see fit.
And so on.
Thus, the second blog. I intend to make the first blog a travel-oriented space, an online journal of travel writing and photos to be renewed and revised with any trip that merits inclusion. This has begun with a trip from December of 04, which will be finished and polished soon. The address for this blog has made its way to a large group of friends, family, and people who got the link from them.
I love that blog, loved doing it, got sort of addicted to the idea, but then I realized that the things I'd like to record in a blog are often not fit for mass consumption. A new space would be necessary for those things that want some hiding. And of course then the question comes: "Well, who would have access to this new one? How do you limit it? Can you make sure only appropriate eyes make their way here? Who is it you want to see this?"
The answer to that is: So far, and for a while, no one but me. Ridiculous, but true. Like publishing a book and then hoarding all the copies so no one reads it. Wouldn't I have been better served sticking to notebooks I keep hidden deep in my bag or filed in hidden piles in my office? Isn't this then a journal in the old-fashioned, private and secret sense?
For now, yes. But not for ever.
What I intend is, simply, to blog. To use this space for the recording of anything that seems to fit. Political perspectives, musical opinions, impressions of art I've experienced, journal entries that travel outside the boundaries of that totally private endeavor, poetry, prose, and anything else that at some point says to me, "You should put this on your blog." To be honest, I don't yet know exactly what that will be. And I don't know why I feel the need or desire to do this. But, I do, so I will. I'll worry about the why later on.
So if you're reading this, welcome, I hope you find something that interests you. I hope I can keep up and make it compelling and important. We'll see where it goes.
And so on.
Thus, the second blog. I intend to make the first blog a travel-oriented space, an online journal of travel writing and photos to be renewed and revised with any trip that merits inclusion. This has begun with a trip from December of 04, which will be finished and polished soon. The address for this blog has made its way to a large group of friends, family, and people who got the link from them.
I love that blog, loved doing it, got sort of addicted to the idea, but then I realized that the things I'd like to record in a blog are often not fit for mass consumption. A new space would be necessary for those things that want some hiding. And of course then the question comes: "Well, who would have access to this new one? How do you limit it? Can you make sure only appropriate eyes make their way here? Who is it you want to see this?"
The answer to that is: So far, and for a while, no one but me. Ridiculous, but true. Like publishing a book and then hoarding all the copies so no one reads it. Wouldn't I have been better served sticking to notebooks I keep hidden deep in my bag or filed in hidden piles in my office? Isn't this then a journal in the old-fashioned, private and secret sense?
For now, yes. But not for ever.
What I intend is, simply, to blog. To use this space for the recording of anything that seems to fit. Political perspectives, musical opinions, impressions of art I've experienced, journal entries that travel outside the boundaries of that totally private endeavor, poetry, prose, and anything else that at some point says to me, "You should put this on your blog." To be honest, I don't yet know exactly what that will be. And I don't know why I feel the need or desire to do this. But, I do, so I will. I'll worry about the why later on.
So if you're reading this, welcome, I hope you find something that interests you. I hope I can keep up and make it compelling and important. We'll see where it goes.
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