19 More Things [Bored on Sunday]

the spleen made me do it. 19 more things about me...

1. Do you like blue cheese?
indeed i do. typically, when it comes to cheese, my feelings are "the stinkier, the better." however, when it comes to blue cheese, i enjoy strong flavored cheese, but strong scented blue cheese makes me want to hurl.

2. Do you get nervous before doctor appointments?
only the dentist. i despise the dentist. my dream is to have all of my teeth yanked out and replaced with implants, so that i never have to go back to the dentist ever again.

3. Favorite Christmas Song?
i have two. i have a favorite celabratory christmas song, and a favorite sentimental christmas song. my favorite celabratory song is 'merry christmas, happy holidays' by, don't laugh, n'sync. and my favorite sentimental christmas song is 'the spirit of christmas' by ray charles. two serious musical gems.

4. Do you work with people who idolize you?
at the risk of sounding cocky, i actually have to say yes, i used to.

5. Do you have A.D.D.?
everyone has a.d.d. some people just have no self control, and they let it control their lives. or they just take drugs for it, because they are too lazy to control it.

6. Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment.
"i'm getting a fucking headache."
"i wish i could get this song out of my head." (suite: judy blue eyes, AGAIN!)
"it looks like i'm not going to fall asleep until 5am again tonight."

7. Name something you bought yesterday.
a half gallon of milk. nothing more, nothing less.

8. Current worry right now?
take your pick, but they all come back to being broke.

9. Current hate right now?
john mccain and/or sarah palin. i have horrible election anxiety. i can't wait until it's over.

10. Favorite place to be?
i'd love to be in vermont right now. it's almost leaf changing time.

11. Where would you like to go?
vermont. key west. back to vegas. vietnam. cambodia. san diego. seattle.

12. Do you like sleeping on satin sheets?
no, i find satin to be really itchy. you can keep it.

13. Favorite girl's name?
i better be chocked full of boy sperm, because i can't think of any girl names that would suffice.

14. Favorite boy's name?
ty, thayne, gideon.

15. Last thing that made you laugh?
david letterman and brian williams making fun of sarah palin on the late show.

16. Worst injury you've ever had?
when i was little, i slipped off a huge rock and landed on a piece of slate. it sliced halfway through an ankle bone.

17. Does someone have a crush on you?
seriously? who doesn't?

18. What is your favorite book?
everything that anthony bourdain has ever written is on the top of my list. other recent reads: naked by david sedaris, a wolf at the table by augusten burroughs, heat by bill buford, and white heat by marco-pierre white.

19. What were you doing 12 AM last night?
i was screwing around on the computer because i couldn't fall asleep, and i was most likely youtubing every imaginable video of crosby, stills & nash singing suite: judy blue eyes. i have a serious obsession with that song lately.

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[Your Morning Coffee]

"beautiful" by jim brickman & wayne brady the brew dujour:
Newman's Own French Roast- No matter how you brew it, this French Roast is exquisite every time. It is roasted to perfection and is great anytime of day. I highly recommend brewing it in a French Press, the crema from these beans is smooth and creamy.

October is National Fair Trade Month!

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It's not so "Suite" when it won't go away...

mullet or not, stephen stills is a musical genius. though i really wish i could get this song out of my head. i spent 3 hours listening to every version of this song that exists on youtube the other night. it won't go away now. this, is by far, the best one.

[suite: judy blue eyes]

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a change IS going to come.

Last year Bob Dylan compiled a song list for Starbucks' Artist Choice Series. In addition to offering up a keen selection of country, blues, and jazz, he also supplied notes and commentary as to why he held the songs in such regard. BUT, the best part was the forward.

He wrote, "When I was asked to put together this collection of songs, I wasn't sure what to do. So I just grabbed a bunch of things I was into recently. Some people have favorite songs, but I've got songs of the minute -- songs that I'm listening to right now. And if you ask me about one of those songs a year from now, I might not even remember who did it, but at the moment it's everything to me."

I bring this up as today's lesson: Nothing is final. One day you're high. The next day you're low. You might have a funky, expressive, or awful haircut today, but soon it will grow into something else, something new and random. Maybe you grew up liking pop music and boy bands, but now you like a specific mash up of electronic & classical. You might decide you don't want to smoke cigarettes anymore; that it's just not who you are. Maybe you were a staunch republican but now have curiosities about the well-spoken and well-organized democratic nominee. Perhaps you were madly in love last week, but woke up today feeling comfort in solitude, without a desire to be held.

Everything is fine. Not finAL.

We tend to instantly identify with "things." And we believe in them so much, when in fact, a belief isn't known to be true. It's a hope for the truth. We hold grudges because of what someone said when we were young. We store hurtful words and replay them in our minds until we think it to be true. And some of us believe a TV commercial and think we need a faster computer, a smarter phone, a stronger pill, a more relaxed-fit jean, etc. We think that certain things, thoughts, or actions make us who we are and sometimes we become addicted to those thoughts or behaviors and then become too afraid to let them go.

I write and post a lot therefore many people assume I have every self-published word memorized or that I live these shared thoughts constantly. This is not the case. My brain doesn't reference myself very well actually, and I'm sure I contradict myself every other day in one way or another. One day I feel like I have all the wisdom of the world and the next day my soul wears thin and I stutter just ordering ice cream.

And everything is fine.

Because I trust in the ever-changing climate of the heart. (At least, today I feel that way.) I think it is necessary to have many experiences for the sake of feeling something; for the sake of being challenged, and for the sake of being expressive, to offer something to someone else, to learn what we are capable of. These meanderings, rants, and blogs for instance, provide a great deal of comfort just sharing it, even though i put a part of myself on the line to be criticized or considered an ass. Oh well, courage is triumph of the soul is guess. And an ass can still be of great service.

So remember, you have the right to change your mind.

About anything.

Anytime.

This is not the ending.

P.S. – No doesn't mean forever. It simply means, "Not right now."

And on the topic of not right now, whatever happened to you in the past is not happening now.

You will be safe behind your honest decisions and mood swings.

I promise.

[via the journal of jason mraz, 10.2.08]

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[Your Morning Coffee]

"i will" by ben taylorthe brew dujour:
Newman's Own Cafe Almond Biscotti- This is the only Almond Flavored Coffee that i've ever had that was overpoweringly sweet. It's well balanced, and leaves you thinking you'll find biscotti crumbs in the bottom of your cup! (Maybe 'hoping' is a better word.) Delicious. I'd prefer it to be roasted a bit darker, but that can be easily fixed by adding a scoop or two of french roast to the filter.

October is National Fair Trade Month!

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Wasilla Or Bust!

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(a) New Edition [Buttery New Music]

i know that you are all excited because you saw the title of this post, and now you see a video a little further down, and you just can't wait to press play in hopes of seeing an encore presentation of new edition singing 'popcorn love.' i'll tell you right now that i'm sorry to disappoint.

if you recall a while back, i wrote a post about artists that you should have on your ipod but probably don't, hopefully you've expanded your horizons and listened to some of them. i know some of you appreciated them so much that you even downloaded their albums; to which i say "i'm glad i could share the love." i have a new edition for that list though. a number six. joshua radin. i know that he's by no means "new," but somehow, until this week, he has flown under my radar like john mccain in spain.** in fact, i haven't been listening to much else this week, other than his song 'today' (below) and 'suite: judy blue eyes' (which i actually woke up singing this morning). joshua's music was featured as far back as the soundtrack of garden state, which is one of the most fantastic soundtracks ever, but again i must admit, i missed him. in this clip, from the ellen degeneres show, she introduces him as this generation's simon & garfunkel. in one sentence, there is no better way to describe him. he is a true singer/songwriter with a real skill for storytelling. and if his music isn't awesome enough, he even covers 'only you' by yazoo aka yaz! (the most underrated song of 1982). i hope you enjoy him as much as i do.

**"flying over...spain one day, [mccain] decided to deviate from his flight plan. rocketing along...his plane sliced through a power line." [rolling stone]

[www.joshuaradin.com]

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Remember what we've said, and done, and felt about each other...

[stephen stills]

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Make-Believe Maverick...

is rolling stone magazine considered "liberal media?" i guess it depends on who you ask. i really don't care, because i believe in the first amendment, but i know some people would prefer to live in their sheltered corner of the world, far, far away from the evil liberal media monster. if that's the case, then you might want to close your browser now.

all that bullshit aside, today i read a very well written article from the new issue of rolling stone titled 'make-believe maverick: a closer look at the life and career of john mccain reveals a disturbing record of recklessness and dishonesty.' it's a rather lengthy article, probably about 15 full pages if you were to print it, but it offers an intimate look into the life of john mccain and offers some explanation into who he is and why. here's a snippet, with a link to the full article below:

"McCain First. This is the story of the real John McCain, the one who has been hiding in plain sight. It is the story of a man who has consistently put his own advancement above all else, a man willing to say and do anything to achieve his ultimate ambition: to become commander in chief, ascending to the one position that would finally enable him to outrank his four-star father and grandfather.

In its broad strokes, McCain's life story is oddly similar to that of the current occupant of the White House. John Sidney McCain III and George Walker Bush both represent the third generation of American dynasties. Both were born into positions of privilege against which they rebelled into mediocrity. Both developed an uncanny social intelligence that allowed them to skate by with a minimum of mental exertion. Both struggled with booze and loutish behavior. At each step, with the aid of their fathers' powerful friends, both failed upward. And both shed their skins as Episcopalian members of the Washington elite to build political careers as self-styled, ranch-inhabiting Westerners who pray to Jesus in their wives' evangelical churches..."

[via rolling stone]

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From Sarah Palin's Coffee Table...

...because, you know, she reads, um, all of them.

[via slog]

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Hack the Debate [REMINDER]

don't forget! hack the vp debate tonight with twitter on current_tv!

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Vote While You're Poopin' [PSA]

CLICK HERE: www.maps.google.com/vote
OR
HERE.

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Love, Like a Haitian Cab Ride...

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Pass the Pork. [World Vegetarian Day]

in celebration of world vegetarian day today, i ate bacon (happy rosh hashanah too!) for breakfast, hot dogs for lunch (i know, hot dogs are arguably considered meat), and i'm planning on a nice rare steak for dinner. how will you celebrate?

i think that anthony bourdain has pretty much summed up my feelings on vegetarians best in his book 'a cook's tour.'

"...It was difficult for me to be polite (though I was outnumbered). I’d recently returned [to California] from Cambodia, where a chicken can be the difference between life and death. These people in their comfortable suburban digs were carping about cruelty to animals but suggesting that everyone in the world, from suburban Yuppie to starving Cambodian cyclo-driver, start buying organic vegetables and expensive soy substitutes. To look down on entire cultures that’ve based everything on the gathering of fish and rice seemed arrogant in the extreme. (I’ve heard of vegans feeding their dogs vegetarian meals, now that’s cruelty to animals.) And the hypocrisy of it all pissed me off. Just being able to talk about this issue in reasonably grammatical language is a privilege, subsidized in a yin/yang sort of a way, somewhere, by somebody taking it in the neck. Being able to read these words, no matter how stupid, offensive, or wrongheaded, is a privilege, your reading skills the end product of a level of education most of the world will never enjoy. Our whole lives - our homes, the clothes we wear, the cars we drive, the food we eat - are all built on a mountain of skulls. "Meat," say the PETA folks, "is ‘murder’." And yes, the wide world of meat eating can seem like a panorama of cruelty at times. But is meat ‘Murder’? Fuck no."

"Murder, as one of my Khmer pals might tell you, is what his next-door neighbor did to his whole family back in the seventies. Murder is what happens in Cambodia, in parts of Africa, Central and South America, and in former Soviet Republics when the police chief’s idiot son decides he wants to turn your daughter into a whore and you don’t like the idea. Murder is what Hutus do to Tutsis, Serbs to Croats, Russians to Uzbeks, Crips to Bloods. And Vice Versa. It’s a black Chevy Suburban (which, more than likely, US taxpayers paid for) pulling up outside your house at three in the morning and dragging away your suspiciously unpatriotic and over opinionated son. Murder is what that man sitting across from you in Phnom Penh does for a living - so he can afford a satellite dish for his roof, so he can watch our Airwolf reruns, MTV Asia, and Pam Anderson running in slow motion down a Southern California beach."

"Hide in your fine homes and eat vegetables, I was thinking. Put a Greenpeace or NAACP bumper sticker on your Beemer if it makes you feel better (so you can drive your kids to their all white schools). Save the rainforest - by all means - so maybe you can visit it someday, on an ecotour, wearing comfortable shoes made by twelve-year-olds in forced labor. Save a whale while millions are still sold into slavery, starved, fucked to death, shot, tortured, forgotten. And when you see cute little kids crying in rubble next to Sally Struthers on TV, be sure to send a few dollars."

[a cook's tour: global adventures in extreme cuisine, by anthony bourdain]

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HELP WANTED. [UPDATED]

this is no joke, but i can't help but wonder which john mccain lookalike they'll get to play him. in his case, anal may be required. this one? or this one?

**UPDATE** i'm positive that this isn't the video that was being casted above, but it's an entertaining preview of what's to come.

[via slog]

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"The Cab Ride I'll Never Forget"

by kent nerburn

Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. One time I arrived in the middle of the night for a pick up at a building that was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window. Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away. But I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself.

So I walked to the door and knocked. "Just a minute," answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness.

"It's nothing," I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated."

"Oh, you're such a good boy," she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked, "Could you drive through downtown?"

"It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly.

"Oh, I don't mind," she said. "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice."

I looked in the rear view mirror. Her eyes were glistening.

"I don't have any family left," she continued. "The doctor says I don't have very long."

I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. "What route would you like me to take?" I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, "I'm tired. Let's go now."

We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

"How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse.

"Nothing," I said.

"You have to make a living," she answered.

"There are other passengers."

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.

"You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said. "Thank you."

I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.

I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life. We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware—beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

[weboflove via dooce]

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