...because there isn't enough crap on the internet already...
(photo by me, ball by Swarovski)
I am highly superstitious about New Year's Eve...it tends to foreshadow how the coming year will go. As you can see above, my NYE was magical.
Dilate...
It was probably a bad idea to schedule an eye exam the day after my birthday. I've had 20/20 vision my whole life and considered reading glasses to be a personal failing. Ridiculous, I know. You should see what else has been floating around in my head. The optometrist surely did -- just get a load of that pupil. It hasn't been so lazy since college. Sometimes it takes a man with a little bottle of yellow drops to make you open your eyes. It took about six hours to wear off, but I am seeing things clearly for the first time in months, and it has nothing to do with specs.
"Blues ain't nothin' but a good woman feelin' bad..."
Don't ask me why. Everything is swell. Better than that, even. Got to talk roots music obsessions with Robert Plant, still every bit the rock god, at the swellegant Campbell Apartment.
Spent the day mostly watching old zombie flix on TCM, but it was raining and it is Shocktober, so 'tis the season. Gonna go back to listening to Ida Cox now. But in the meantime, check out these snaps from the East Coast Truckin' Nationals in Petersburg, VA, where I spent last weekend with big rigs, bikes and baby, eatin' biscuits and drinkin' beer:
Who am I kidding?
I hate blogging. I rarely read blogs. Not even the ones I'm particularly interested in. Friends of mine blog. I make the courtesy visit and will go back if cajoled, but that's about it. I like that I can catch up with far away pals via their web homes. But a friend who lives close by recently chastised me for not revisiting his blog. "Is this how we're communicating now?" I asked him. "Can't I just call you? Or meet ya for coffee and you can tell me all the crap you've been thinking about." Am I really the only one skirting the edge of the blogosphere? I must be, 'cos you're reading this, so you've no doubt exhausted everything else. I read a lot of printed material -- books, newspapers, magazines. Told on this digital page, it sounds so old school. Don't get me wrong -- I like technology. I'm online all the time, researching, reading more, but rarely do I spend quality time amongst the blogs. They're hotbeds of rumor, disinformation and plain old nastiness. There's a lot of hating going on out there (here too, but I'm only hating blogs!). People are much more likely to take a swipe at you online than they would in print or in person. And though it's democratizing media, it's also the ultimate de-valuing of content. In theory, I think it's marvelous to have a place to express these little ideas that don't warrant a full-on article, short story, a song, or anything else I might be inclined to write -- or be paid to write. In practice, I'd rather be cooking. And if you were at my house tonight, you'd be eating wild Alaskan halibut and fiddleheads instead of scorching your eyeballs on the internet.
Bullshit!
You can't tell me you're going to fill Madison Square Garden with proud animals that weigh as much as a car throwing strapping young men in chaps off them and expect me to not show up. So St. Lawrence and I shined up our boots on Saturday night and headed to midtown to get an eyeful of the Professional Bull Riders bringing mega-rodeo to New York City.
Here's what you're likely to find at a PBR show:
-hot Brazilian cowboys
-Rudy Giuliani
-rodeo clowns whose moves indicated former employment at Chippendale's
-big hats
-mouth-breathing gum chewers
-lip-synching country stars
-Leroy Neiman, who presented a painting to three-time PBR world champ
Adriano Moraes of him riding
-Dan Akroyd
-drunk girls from New Jersey*
*not me
Another New Year's Eve
The weather was mild and it rained word-fetti. It's nice to
start the new year at the world's biggest party. And like most
celebrities, that ball looks so much smaller in person than it does on tv
(there it is, top right).
Photo bloggin'
- see some of the places I've been to.