At the end of Kim Cooper's 33 1/3 book about Neutral Milk Hotel's In an Aeroplane Over the Sea there is a quote from band member Julian Koster:

I think what Elephant 6 meant for us is very simple: there's something pure and infinite in you, that wants to come out of you, and can come out of no other person on the planet. That's what you've got to share, and that's as real and important as the fact that you're alive. We were able, at a really young age, to somehow protect each other so we could feel that. The world at large, careerism, money, magazines, your parents, the people at the rock club in your town, other kids, nothing is going to give you that message, necessarily. In fact, most things are going to lead you away from it, sadly, because humanity is really confused at the moment. But you wouldn't exist if the universe didn't need you. And any time I encounter something beautiful that came out of a human somewhere, that's them, that's their own soul. That's just pure, whatever its physicality is, if the person can play piano, if they can't play piano, if they're tone deaf, whatever it is, if it's pure, it hits you like a sledgehammer. It fills up your own soul, it makes you want to cry. It makes you glad you're alive, it lets you come out of you, and that's what we need: we desperately need you.

______


I thought that was nice.

______

Collins also mentions that the 8 minute song Oh Comely was played once in the recording session of In The Aeroplane Over the Sea and only once. Jeff Magnum, with his guitar, sat down, started what was meant to be a warm up- where he would only play the first verse- but then carried on for all 8 minutes and 18 seconds while the rest of the band stood amazed in the next room... and then they kept the take, and threw some overdubs (horns, backing vocals, a bit of percussion) on it and that was that.

Listen to this sledgehammer:

setting goals

True Story:

I sat down today with a pen and paper and wrote down a little phrase that is supposed to help me win Life. I had scribed "Short Term Goals:" as my pen arose from the paper. Just at that very point a *twing* erupted from beneath my belly button. With hunger interrupting my list of goals I went to the pantry for a fresh jar of Dry Roasted Peanuts. If you like salt soaked snacks, you know what a dry roasted peanut is. It is what happens to the peanut man on the Planters container after he runs an ultra-marathon and is covered in peanut-man sweat, then roasted. These nuts are a favorite snack of mine.

As I stared at my pending list of goals and my freshly opened jar of dry roasted peanuts, a question arose regarding my existence. Could I consume an entire 16 ounce jar of dry roasted peanuts right at this very moment? Seems like a good goal, and since I only had about an hour, it would have to be short-term. I decided to write "eat entire jar of peanuts" on the list just for a laugh, then started eating the nuts by the handful.

It was a hot day, and I wanted to take this goal, like most life-goals, very seriously. I filled a large glass with tap water to make sure the salt would dilute and I wouldn't get too dehydrated or whatever. I also realized, quickly that this goal was attainable. A few handfuls in, and the nuts were already below the label. It had only been a couple of minutes, so I sipped some water and took a deep breath of summer air. Within that warm summer air was the smell of success. I could see why people write whole books about achieving your goals... It feels great, even if you haven't finished the task... achievement, it's like being repotted in a bigger pot because you have grown and your roots no longer fit in the small terra-cotta container, they need a bigger one to spread out and conquer.

At the 15 minute mark the jar of nuts was half gone. No problemo. I picked up my pen again to think of more goals I could crush, but before jotting anything down- the phone rang. It was a friend who had been without power calling me to tell me about how the power was back on. We chatted for a bit as I popped a couple nuts here and there. Upon completion of the call, I realized something- I had procrastinated!

My peanut goal had lost 15 minutes without really consuming much more than a dozen or so nuts. I thought about why I even wanted to do this and if it was worth it. Calories and salt intake are all issues people I know think a lot about. I was on the verge of consuming 3000 calories and somewhere around a billion milligrams of sodium. What sort of effect would that have on a 28 year old person? It was no big deal to NOT eat the nuts. Nobody saw me make the Short Term Goals List, and not a soul would know if I just crumpled it up and threw it in the bin, BUT, for some reason, I felt compelled to motor on. I did not want to look in the mirror and see a failure, and since there are a good 6 or 7 mirrors in my house, it would be unavoidable.

I sat back down and raced through the next quarter jar of nuts. I was well on my way when I felt as though the nuts were taking effect on my stomach. My body was thinking there was enough salt in my stomach, and wanted to let me know. It was an odd feeling of nausea mixed with failure. No no no! I thought. Continuing through the jar, I saw completion of my first goal take shape.

The jar was polished off in about 40 minutes. I didn't eat the salt at the bottom because I don't really consider that part of it- Part of putting one's mind to a goal and achieving it, which felt nice.

I lifted the pen and crossed "eat entire jar of peanuts" from the top of my goals list.

More Sports Posts

You know what? Considering how sports-addicted I am, I really haven't incorporated the love to the blog. Today, though, I had a thought that may need a bit of flushing out here.

Why are sports set up to have everyone but ONE team be considered a failure. There is the WORLD CHAMPION and then there are the losers. Such has been swirling in my head since the Philadelphia Flyers, led by Chrissy Pronger, fell a few shifts short of the Chicago Blackhawks in the quest for Lord Stanley's Cup.

The Blackhawks were a young, fast odds on favorite at the start of the playoffs to hoist the cup, while the Flyers barely squeeked in on the last day as a lowly-seeded underdog. Sure enough, Chicago outlasted the fly-guys and were crowned victorious, but not before the fly-guys sent all us fans on a 3 week ride as exciting as you can ask for from a sports team. They overcame and overcame at a clip only seen in Rambo movies and Martin Luther King documentaries. They deserve something more than being "runner up".

Professional sports is nothing more than a business. A 60 year old hippy told me that just last night. We all know it, quit denying it... The payday is the most important thing. SO- what sense does it make that only 1 team can be the winner. Since the green-backs are the ultimate goal and winning brings in the green-backs, shouldn't we try to get more winners. I think the Flyers championed something... Maybe they deserve a bit more than Eastern Conf. Champions hats. They shouldn't have to go home to their lonely wives with anything less than the ferocious appetite of a champion. They earned it.

Sports though- it's a shit show. Rings and crowns and sneakers that sell for too much. All the hilarious absurdities of it all and all I can think of is how great the Flyers performed. I never expected it. I listened to a few men on the tele-box who seem to sound like they know what they are talking about discount the Flyers every night for 3 weeks, and all the Flyers did was show those greasy fake-tanned suit wearing blabbergasts that they could play hockey and could probably out skate any Yamaguchi in a Mickey Mouse helmet if it came down to that. Tension and pressure are part of ice hockey, but they are also parts of mystery novels. The Flyers became Sherlock Holmes like it was nobody's business.

So- when routing for your team. Whatever team it may be; the Blue Rocks, The Orange-bomber, the Bearenstein Bears, Snoop Dogg's little league team, the crazy South-African dancing soccer team- remember victory is one thing, but there is more to sport than just ending up the champion. There is the roller coaster, there is the camaraderie, there is the edge of the sofa sensation, and there is the fact that eventually... maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday- everyone will make the statement, "it kind of weirds me out to think I'm X years older than all these dudes."


oop- PS edit... I wanted to mention that I also lost two bets and won 2 bets during the playoffs, all of which I think are worth noting.

Bet 1: 2 Boston v. 7 Flyers round 2 of the Eastern Conf. Playoffs. I bet a friend here when the Flyers were already losing game 1. I had been trying to get a hold of this friend to place a bet, but neither of us are that great at answering our phones. Finally- the night after game 1 I get a phone call from my friend. Earlier, we had sort of agreed to bet, but the stakes were set at the loser having to drink any pint of booze the winner presents him with. Since the Flyers were already in the hole, he gave me odds... He would take a swig out of the pint he bought me... which would have probably been jagermeister. (Note- this bet was washed clean after a double or nothing was placed and the Phillies refused to score runs on the Red Sox the following weekend).

Bet 2: the Penguins v. Flyers bet: wait a sec- these teams didn't meet up in the playoffs!? Well, they almost did, but the Penguins were one pedicure short and couldn't get past the canadians in the second round. The last few years I had lost cases of beer (that ended up being less than cases of beer) in a Flyers v Penguins bet with a Pittsburghian pal. This year, he figured Montreal could beat the Flyers, so I wrangled a (as of yet to be drank) case of beer from the Flyers shellacking of the Habs.

Bet 3: I bet a friend who grew up in this area, then moved to Chicago that the Flyers would beat chi-town. Stakes- loser buys the winner dinner. Sure enough, after many a text message- I think I am buying a steak covered deep dish pizza next time I am in Chicago. I should mention that this person suddenly became a blackhawks fan after growing up in Flyer country.

Bet 4: this bet was made with another Chicago transfer. The stakes are the most interesting part. The loser of the bet (me) will have to buy a drink of the winner's choice and present it to a bar patron, also of the winner's choice. So apparently next time I have a drink in Chicago I am going to have to buy a sea breeze for whatever man has the most tattooes at the bar. Does that make sense? ah geez... screw it.

The new birds in town

Can you see the beast in the distance of my car mirror in this photo:
It's a peacock. I saw it strolling down the road the other day and I realized it was going to be a kooky day. Unfortunately, by the time I reached for my camera to take this picture, the bird was so far away, it was almost as if I had only dreeeaaaammmed it.

Anyway, from there, I received a phone call from a friend. She was looking for someone to head up to Lancaster with her to stock up on some chickens for her coop. I am fascinated by both chickens and Amish dudes. "I am in."

"Turn left once the power lines end." Was the only direction we had, but we found the farm alright. Again, I missed the photograph where the farmers were tossing the chickens in the car with wings flapping and feathers flying, but in this photo you can see that it was Wear Something Blue Day to support blue bears.



For my help in the chicken pickup, I was awarded two chickens to call my own. This was great news, because Badger was upset when he heard that our chicks wouldn't be laying eggs until the fall. We let one chicken ride shotgun home.

When Badger got word that new friends arrived, he made himself at home.


The new chickens tower over the chicks. I don't know if I like it. I saw one throwing its weight around, blocking off the feeder from the little chicks. I think once they all live together for a while, the bigguns will be friendly to the liluns.

renovate

Just changed around the look here at the web journal. The old title has bugged me since day one. I can never think of good titles, and the idea of a dog eating corn was just too much. I love dogs and I love eating corn, so perhaps putting the two together made sense at one time, but dogs don't eat corn.

I had been hoodwinked. Somewhere along the line I thought to write a blog, you need to have some kind of clever title that doesn't really make sense. One of the fun things about this blogger site is that you can hit a link that takes you to random blogs... well, most of them have random titles.

Not here anymore though.

A funny story about this site you are visiting right now. It was started in attempt to get PR people to send me free music. In exchange for a blog post, I would reach out to press folk and see if they would send me music I wanted to hear. Brilliant idea! But as the blog blobbed into its current shape, I have learned that writing about music is more for pompous dickhead know-it-alls. I have a very hard time judging someone's art, and could only write about music I liked. Although I did piss on the Kooks a few years ago, I think music should be celebrated 100 times and critiqued zero times. Let Mel Kiper Jr. do all the critiquing in the world on college football prospects. Run the well dry Mel, run it dry.

So here we stand. A simple little blog written in a simple little home, that has an important purpose as it allows me to every now and again reflect back upon old posts and say, "wow- on August 20, 2008- I must have been feeling like a dick."

Chick update

So the chickens are survivors. We sighed a breath of relief this morning as all the cluckers still had their heads. There are a few bets going around the farm as to what date the first chicken will get killed. Chicks just gotta say, "That's pretty fucked up."

So, with all these thoughts of predators and losing bets swirling in my head, I drank a bunch of cold ones last night while watching the Flyers game and every time I had to whizz, I moseyed out to the coop and pissed a nice little PBR smelling perimeter to help a little. Badger pitched in a few times. At slumber-hour, Badger stayed up at my feet looking out our bedroom window at the coop. I don't think he slept at all. At around 1am or so, he woke me up barking up a storm. "Oh geez, here we go," I thought. I looked out the window and could see a little light coming from the coop. While half asleep, I imagined the whole back wall had fallen out. I cursed and ran out in the yard in my bare feet and boxers through the urine swamp, only to realize the light I was seeing was the window of the coop and a little crack on one of the door hinges.


I had forgotten that feeling of bursting awake and jumping out of bed into action. It was awesome. By the time I realized the chickens were safe, standing half naked in my yard, my heart was racing. I took a deep breath of fresh air and something came over me. I lifted my head, staring up at the stars. The moon was shining and a slight breeze tickled my chest hair. Badger and I stood there, planted like two sentinels. With our heads lifted toward the final frontier, we both let out a primal scream. Howling at the moon I became one with Badger and the chickens and the great mother.

I no longer fear the predators. Weasels and foxes know. Snakes and rats know. Bearded dragons know, and now I know. We are all little chickens waiting to get eaten. Standing under our heat lamps and pooping in our food. Waiting for our big boy feathers to replace our little baby feathers and then laying eggs to be scooped up and served with Canadian bacon and English muffins:

one world.

Out of the laundry Room into the Fire

So it's a big day over here at blog HQ. The chicken coop has passed the home inspection and we are dumping our 2 week old chicks into it. We aren't exactly sure how old they are, but we bought them when they were bite sized and that was 2 weeks ago.

Since I have gained a good bit of knowledge from other bloggers writing about their backyard chickens, I thought I would take a moment to write about my coop building and chicken raising experience thus far.

We went with seven, which has proven to be difficult. I always count them to make sure they are all there and regularly only count six. I have a short panic until I spot the seventh, usually huddled up in a corner or blending in underneath one of the others. They all fit much nicer in the coop we have been working on for them then they do in a metal tub atop our laundry machine.



Perhaps my favorite part of our chicken experience thus far is watching Badger, the puppalupagus, obsess over the birds. They are his new best friends. He watches them endlessly fascinated at their every move. He will lick them and nudge them with his nose, but he has never hurt them. Below are a few shots of Badger over the last couple weeks:

saying hello in the living room

saying hello in the laundry room (their usual home)

and guarding the chicks in their little temporary pen.

Badger and I helped the chicks move into their new home today. I've read a good bit about chickens over the last couple weeks and the one consistent fact is that they regularly get eaten by any of the following predators; raccoons, foxes, opossums, owls, rats, weasels, pterodactyls, and snakes. It is a tough life. With this in mind, we tried to build a safe home for the chicks, but at the same time realize at least half (if we are lucky) of these little buggers will probably end up being the punchline in a Roald Dahl story. That is what makes the move a scary one.


As you can see above, the structure is nearly finished. We just need to stake up some chicken wire in the run area, and bury the extension chord (for the heat lamp). Badger is standing in front of the door. Once the pen is wired, you will be able to open up the small door, to allow the chickens to come and go, or the two large doors to clean the coop and collect eggs. We built the coop off the ground to protect from predators and allow more space, underneath the coop, for the chickens to muck about in the pen. The whole structure is 10 feet long, 4 feet high (at the corners) and 4 feet wide. The coop itself is 3 feet by 4 feet.

Here are the front doors. We salvaged the awesome wood from the barn on the farm when a good bit of it collapsed under the snowmageddon. The hinges were donated from a friend and are one of my favorite parts.

This little door will be open during the day with a ramp down to the ground so the chickens can come and go as they please.

Then when it is time to clean out the coop or collect eggs we can open up the whole wall. The chord in the back is for a heat lamp and the hanging feeders (one for food and one for water) may end up underneath the coop once the chickens grow a bit more. Behind Badger's head is a nesting area with 2 boxes and a little roof. We haven't installed the roosting pole, but we did add the little roof deck above the nesting boxes for some more chill space for the chicks.

You can see the nesting area a bit better here. There are two wooden slats that slide in so you can either have one big nesting area or two smaller ones, whichever the chickens prefer.

The chickens immediately seemed to enjoy looking out the window which is good. I am a bit worried that this window will be the weak link when predators come looming, but I think it is totally sealed.


Here are a few more photos I took today of the chicks moving in:

I believe this is an amber link. We have at least 2 of them, and maybe 4 of them.
Maebe came to say hi, but I think she would eat them, so I drop kicked her.

I'm not sure what kind of chicken this is, but she is much smaller than the others.

I think the one in the back there is a Rhode Island Red, but I can't be sure of that either. She is also pretty small.

shake it
Wish us luck.

What Jeni said

I think there is a fine line between "criticism" and "judgment". To me, a critical person has room to alter their perception. A judgment has weight and permanence.

I don't get many comments here on the blog, so I wanted to thank Jeni for chiming in with the above statement regarding my "critique" of Alice in Wonderland. She makes a great point and I feel a bit better about it all.

I think what Jeni meant to say though is that judgment day is coming- a day when critical minds and judgemental minds will all be stepped on by terminator feet. Giant waves of napalm will be viewed at and no one will take the time to update their blog about how the napalm should have been hotter or the wave taller or the ashy skeletons more ashy. We will all just run for our lives and hope our loved ones don't become terminated too tortuously.

Critics are cartoons, judges are jokesters and we are all just people pointing in different directions. There is no reason for me to write this. It will only be scanned for vitals by the mother-terminator and then used against the human resistance. It is obvious to me. On a day like today, the sun was shining, the blossoms were falling and not once did I breath in and say, "man, this air smelt so much better in 1997." This is because I can't time travel! I am not from the future and can't go to the past. I will not crouch naked and awaken atop a crater in a seedy part of 1997 telling myself how awesome the air smells. If I could, I would make a bet on the Phillies to win it all in 2008.

I just looked it up. Judgement Day isn't until July 11th 2029. The Phillies could win another one by then. I will have just celebrated a 48th birthday and would not have judged anything in a good 20 years. I will be telling my niece about how happy I am she became a Phillies fan despite growing up in Boston and maybe we should travel to the moon when the Phillies play the Moon Men in an upcoming Orbit-League exhibition. She will probably tell me that she prefers a good pitching matchup and dislikes all the 4,000 foot home runs that are hit in low gravity. On this day air will smell of injected fragrances that remind us all of ex-girlfriends and people will constantly be cringing. The wave of napalm won't be so bad after that.

Luckily for them, the Phillies will be on the moon on judgement day hitting homeruns and the napalm will only look like a fireworks show from their vantage.

What Sam Drinks

So one of my favorite things is finding out about the blogs friends may keep. Something new to read from someone I know or love is like getting a fortune with my cookie.

I've long admired the words of my friend Sam, and now everyone else can as well.

Check out his new web journal, This Is What I Drink.

Sam has made me a fan of beverages just by listening to the way he talks about them.

"What I drink. It's not something I thought very much about until a few years ago, but it really does mean a lot to my life. Food obsession is something that's easier to accept. We have 24 hour networks dedicated to the preparation/eating/ceremony of food. But beverage obsession, not so much, as it always seems to play the sidekick. I understand why. It's a quick sip in between chews, laughs, memories and not the main course, and despite loving a well cooked meal, I'd argue the drink is just as important."

Sam- this reminds me, we need to get that home brew recipe cooking.

Alice left me feeling unpure

So what do I know about films? I can't critique them. They all have their target audiences and I usually write criticisms then delete them, then write about how I can't write them.

All I know is that one of these two things has changed:

-Tim Burton's genius
-me

20 years ago, Edward Scissorhands came out. I was a child. Nowadays I just scoff at shitty dialogue, wish movies weren't so predictable, and complain about how fake stuff looks. What happened?

I can enjoy everything. I don't need to judge it all. A lot of people worked hard on that movie and created a work of art. Who cares if it ends with a battle scene and silly dance and then a really bad song. Wonderland is a real place. I love it. I will think of 20 impossible things before breakfast.