Here’s what’s happening

The big reason why posting will be more sporadic here than usual over the next six weeks is that we have made a decision that is going to greatly impact my family life.

We’re moving.

To one of those “house” things.

We’re not leaving out current town, but the physical location of Casa Jaquandor will be shifting a couple miles. Thus a great deal of time will be spent putting the stuff in boxes and schlepping it to the future location of Casa Jaquandor.

First…the interior needs to be painted. Badly. We briefly considered doing it ourselves, but the job is sufficiently large that we just don’t have time or, quite frankly, inclination. The best idea is to have the place painted before we move, as opposed to piece-mealing the job over a year or so, which will involve moving stuff out of rooms and generally making for disruptive living, as well as temporarily living with what might be the worst colors ever used in a house. Seriously. Look at this stuff:

See what I mean? Ugh!

We’re thrilled about this kitchen, though:

The master bedroom, which is less than ideal for bedroomy-stuff. I don’t want to live surrounded by walls the color of something I once vomited.

Blue Room, Green Room, Pukey Room, Creepy Room! (And that hallway…yipes.)

Back in the kitchen:


Ayup. Awful.

But when it’s all done, among other nice luxuries, I will have my very own book room! I get the Blue Room (soon to be the “After the Rain” room, which is a shade of light purple). I will be photodocumenting the eventual construction of my library, but here’s how the job is beginning:


I tremble in fear of what the pile of book boxes is eventually going to look like. A cave-in might kill me.

Onward and upward! Zap! Pow!

Share This Post

Sentential Links

Linkage!

:: But now I’m home, and it feels as though I never left. Did I just dream the entire thing?

When you travel, you are who you are in each exact moment; there isn’t time to question yourself. Everything is new. Survival instincts guide every decision… shelter, water, food. A lumpy bed, canned corn for dinner, and cold showers start to become natural, but so does swimming under a waterfall, visiting ancient ruins, and eating couscous in the Sahara Desert. It is a lifestyle of constant change and adaptation. At home, those instincts vanish and our biggest obsticale becomes ourselves. (You know, I think that’s what Tolkien was getting at when he ended The Lord of the Rings with Sam getting home, after everything that’s happened, after bidding farewell to Frodo and Bilbo and Gandalf and all the Elves, and saying, “Well, I’m back.” It’s the idea that the great experience of his life is over but life still looms ahead of him. I often feel that way after trips elsewhere, although my longest trips have never gone more than a single week. Returning always feels like a recalibration of the brain to its original level of smallness.)

:: There will come a day in the future when you will wonder how you could have ever smiled, and you will think that before your life was filled with smooth seas and ignorance is bliss. Hold the memories of the good times like a talisman to your heart, and let the knowledge that the bad days won’t last forever warm your indifference and renew your spirit.

:: I don’t know much about the upcoming sci-fi comedy, Space Station 76, except that it is directed by Jack Plotnik, stars Liv Tyler (whom I adore) and Patrick Wilson, and that it’s currently doing the film festival rounds. Well, I also know that it apparently takes place in the future as it was depicted back in the ‘70s, with Old School sets, costumes, effects, moustaches and feathered hair… which is why I’m mentioning it here on Space: 1970 at all! 

:: It is nowhere written in the heavens that Pro Football shall always and ever be America’s most popular spectator sport. A hundred years ago the most popular sports in the US were horse racing and boxing, and those have faded almost completely from the scene. How much longer does football have at the top? (This is a good point, one which I argued with a friend at work a few months back. He utterly rejected the notion that football will ever lose popularity, to which I pointed out that even baseball is nowhere near the going concern it once was. He seem to deny this, too…but I remember when the World Series began on a Saturday night and when its ratings were high enough that networks simply didn’t schedule new episodes of anything while the Series was running. Now it starts in the middle of the week and networks don’t avoid it at all. None of which is to say that football will be forgotten in fifty years or whatever, but it’s worth noting that the sporting world changes too.)

:: With only a few weeks to go before the very few students I have left write their GED exam, I find these images on the Tumblr. I have nightmares that these will be the answers they will put down even though the real GED test is mostly multiple choice except for the written essay.

:: No wonder people back then believed Heaven and Hell were as real as London. They lived in not just a demon-haunted world but an angel-infested and God-bothered one. They believed the borders between this world and either of the next were permeable and devils and angels were roaming back and forth between here and whichever place they called home and taking living human beings with them as they went. Essentially this meant they believed that this world wasn’t quite real, and you can hardly blame them for that.

:: I always wonder how they’d do THE FUGITIVE today. Richard Kimble would have a bitch of time getting a new identity every week and getting an apartment and job without having his credit record and job history revealed. Whatever story he told employers could be checked on line.

More next week!

Share This Post

Sunday Burst of Weird and Awesome

Oddities and Awesome abound!

:: I know I’ve blogged about this before, but it’s been years and it’s always stunning to look again. Here is the amazing forbidden “Stairway to Heaven” in Hawaii.


I’d walk this. Would you?

:: I’m going to link this rather than embed it here, because the image is massive. It’s an infographic depicting the work habits of some of history’s great geniuses, from various walks of life. Interesting that most seem to have been early risers….

More next week!

Share This Post

Symphony Saturday

Today we come to the end of Hector Berlioz’s symphonic output, during which we’ve seen that Berlioz was one of the most unique of symphonists, refusing to adhere to the standards of the symphonic form. This work is no exception. Here we have the Symphonie funebre et triomphale, which was originally written for concert band or military band. Berlioz later added optional parts for strings and choir. Berlioz was commissioned to write this symphony by the French government for use at a ceremony honoring the tenth anniversary of the July Revolution, one of France’s numerous Revolutions in the 18th and 19th centuries. Berlioz wasn’t terribly enamored of the existing government of his day, but figuring that 10,000 francs was 10,000 francs, he dusted off some old, abandoned works of his and reconfigured them for this piece. Apparently the first performance — with an enormous ensemble that couldn’t be heard very well outdoors — was something of a fiasco, but this symphony became fairly popular during Berlioz’s lifetime.

The Symphonie funebre et triomphale is in three movements: The Funeral march, the Funeral oration, and the “apotheosis”. In this piece Berlioz looks backward to the state of French ceremonial music from the early 19th century, with the enormous funeral march to begin and the triumphal march to conclude. The central movement, with its beautiful melody for solo trombone, comes as a welcome respite between these two large, spectacle-filled movements.


Next week: Robert Schumann.

Share This Post

Something for Thursday

In the course of writing Lighthouse Boy (not the actual title), I’ve been listening to more film music lately (more than usual, anyway), with a special ear for classic scores of the Golden Age. Without doubt, my favorite Golden Age film composer is Erich Wolfgang Korngold, whose music formed the backdrop for many a fine Errol Flynn adventure. Here is a suite of his score to The Adventures of Robin Hood, played live at The Proms. (My newest addition to my “Things I Gotta Do Before I Die” list is to attend a concert or two at The Proms.)


Now there’s some swashbuckling music for you!

(And as a onetime trumpet player, I was interested in one particular practice I saw here for the first time ever (it happens at the 7:28 mark, among others): the trumpeter stretches a mask of what looks like felt over the bell of the instrument. I imagine this softens the tone somewhat, muffling the trumpet without changing the instrument’s tone outright, the way a mute does. Korngold knew his way around the orchestra, that’s for sure!)

Share This Post

On Mr. Wilson

Ralph Wilson, owner of the Buffalo Bills, died yesterday at the age of 95. He was the only owner the team ever had, and, like seemingly everything else around these parts, Buffalo’s relationship with him was…complicated.

Wilson brought football to Buffalo when he decided he wanted to own a football team but the NFL wasn’t playing along, so he joined some other rich guys and launched the AFL. Somehow the new league got off the ground — even with Wilson having to loan some money to another of the owners, a guy named Al Davis, so he could get his franchise, which he dubbed “the Raiders”, off the ground — and eventually flourished to the point that the NFL just merged with the AFL, thus paving the way for the NFL as it exists today.

There would be no football in Buffalo today if not for the efforts of Ralph Wilson, and it’s entirely possible that without him, the NFL itself might not be what it is today. In the annals of football Ralph Wilson’s name might not loom so large as, say, a Paul Brown or a George Halas, but he’s no mere footnote, either.

But Wilson had his troublesome qualities as well, which were often balanced with the good. He could be difficult to work for, as evidenced by his tendency to buck heads with his own underlings. He wasn’t George Steinbrenner in this regard, but Wilson did burn more than a few bridges with good people (most famously former GM Bill Polian, who built the Bills of the early 90s and who then went on to a short stint with the expansion Carolina Panthers and then to the Indianapolis Colts, who Polian then built into one of the best teams of the 2000s). It’s generally been an article of faith that one major factor that’s kept the Bills from ever becoming a championship team was Wilson’s level of discomfort with people he didn’t know well, which kept him from ever really exploring other possibilities as far as people running the team. Thus Wilson rarely went looking outside his organization for bright, motivated people whose trajectories were on the way up.

Wilson also was one to rattle the “relocation” saber every so often, when the team’s stadium lease was coming up. He never outright said, as far as I can recall, that the team would have to move if he didn’t get his way, but the message was always pretty clear that the county-owned (and therefore taxpayer-funded) stadium would need some new stuff done to it every seven or eight years, if the team was to “remain viable in this market”. The whole NFL racket of shaking down municipalities for stadiums or stadium improvements is pretty nauseating, especially in light of the NFL’s non-profit status as it wallows in as much money as anybody has in this world. Ralph Wilson played this game to the hilt, but…he never did move the team, or even come close to doing so, and over the last twenty or thirty years, that hasn’t been the case around the NFL. Al Davis moved his Raiders twice. Georgia Frontiere moved the Rams, Art Modell moved the Browns, and of course, thirty years ago the Irsays brought in moving vans at midnight to haul the Colts away from Baltimore. It happens, but Ralph Wilson resisted the siren call of richer markets.

But on the other hand — and there’s always an “other hand” with Ralph Wilson — he also staunchly refused to publicly consider any kind of ownership succession plan that would guarantee the team’s future in Buffalo after his death. It’s become almost an article-of-faith around here that Wilson must have had some kind of “secret plan” ready to go for after his death, but…well, I guess we’ll find out now, won’t we? If he did, great. But if not…well, as radio play-by-play guy Van Miller used to say, “Fasten your seatbelts!”

Ralph Wilson never moved the team or even came close, but he did extort the county for as much money as he could. Ralph Wilson seemed cheap at times, never being mentioned at all as a guy who would spend top dollar to get the best executives or coaches, but he did shower money on a lot of players in attempts to make the team better. Ralph Wilson was one of the most important figures in the sporting history of this town, but he lived in Detroit. Like I said, it was complicated. Hey, that’s Buffalo. It’s never easy, for us.

Thanks for the football memories, Mr. Wilson. I hope you had one final trick up your sleeve, though.

Share This Post

A Random Wednesday Conversation Starter

What’s an old genre of something that you miss and you know is never coming back? For me, it’s 1970s-era variety shows. The closest we get to that sort of thing is reality competition stuff like America’s Got Talent, and those aren’t that interesting to me anymore.

(I hope this question makes sense…I was trying to figure out how to word it….)

Share This Post

Sentential Links

Linkage!

:: Overalls are everywhere at the moment. I’m loving all the new skinny jean overalls. I seriously considered investing in a pair, but I already had the overalls you see here. And no one needs two pair of overalls. That’s just excessive. (Excessive? Never! Obsessive? Well…um…moving on!)

:: I feel like I can get a glimpse of why someone might become a work-a-holic, especially in this stage of my writing career when I’m really fighting hard for my dream. Not writing seems like wasted time. There is a balance to be found for sure. (Anya Monroe has become one of my favorite writer-peeps. Check her blog out!)

:: So, did I know about Ellen Page?

Sure. Why not?

How did I know?

Same way I know most everything I know.

I read it…

…somewhere. (I didn’t know! But then…I didn’t care, either. But you know, it’s interesting to me on this basis: I tend to just assume people are straight, mainly because that’s the statistical likelihood. And then I find out they’re gay, and I’m briefly surprised, and then I invariably end up thinking, “Why do I need to know this, anyway?” I understand on one level why it’s “news” when someone famous “comes out”, but at the same time…I just don’t care. And I shouldn’t, right? Thoughts?)

:: Maybe that’s the muse of sleeping poets and passed out musicians, but my muse is none other than Lucy, and I have always been Charlie Brown.

:: Is it easier to write paranormal, as opposed to contemporary romance?

:: It has taken me a while to realize that the truth doesn’t always need to be shared. And when you do, it’s important how you say it. But there’s even more to it than that.

:: You’ve probably experienced this yourself at some transitional point in life – listened to a song, and its melody and/or lyrics leapt out to fill your mind with stunned silence, that weird missed-step feeling of Fate having a hand between your shoulder blades. Regardless of its release date, that song would then become synonymous with a fragment of time when, for a few moments, you didn’t feel quite so unique, or so alone and unheard by the world, depending on how you viewed it.

:: If a candidate for federal elected office cannot muster the courage or mental fortitude to be interviewed by the singular local paper covering her district, she’s fundamentally unqualified for public office of any kind. (Alan Bedenko is rather unimpressed with the birther lunatic the Republican Party is offering up for Congress in this area. What a disgrace…but then, this is the same NY GOP that begged fellow birther lunatic Donald Trump to run for Governor. Having one of our major parties be so completely insane is so bad for the country.)

More next week. Unless there aren’t.

Share This Post

Bad aim, you shall have.

You know what we haven’t had around here lately? A good old-fashioned geek-gasm! I saw this photo-essay thing on Tumblr last night:

I buy this, for the most part. There are really only two major instances of the Stormtroopers looking like boobs, in the entire Original Trilogy: when our heroes are fleeing the Death Star (and after Tarkin has signed off on Vader’s plot to let them escape so they can be tracked to the Rebel base…which is really kind of shitty news if you’re one of the four TIE Fighter pilots sent to not blow up the Millennium Falcon), and when our same heroes are fleeing Cloud City.

In the latter case, there’s only one egregiously bad instance of “Holy shit, you stormtroopers suck!”, in a very brief shot where the heroes dash across a wide room and one Stormtrooper comes along behind them and, despite his clear line of sight and lack of obstruction, misses with both shots he takes. Chewbacca turns around and with one shot puts this guy down. So yeah, that dude sucked. But for the rest of the time, the Stormtroopers don’t really have good shots on the heroes, and R2 puts up his smokescreen, so there’s that.

As for the Ewoks, this shows a nice pattern to the Imperials’ thought processes which bites them in the arse again. Remember in the first movie, during the briefing, General Dodonna points out that the Death Star’s defenses are designed against a large-scale assault, like a fleet of battleships. The Death Star is designed to go up against a bunch of Star Destroyers, and it never occurs to the Empire that anyone’s going to attack with a bunch of tiny fighters. Likewise, it never occurs to them that the primitive natives of Endor pose any threat at all, and in reality, they probably don’t. It takes Ewok numbers plus some technologically-savvy Rebels (led, in this case, by an improvising smuggler by trade) to manage to get control of things. And also, remember that the Rebel mission on Endor is not complete defeat of the entire Imperial apparatus there; they’re just looking to get in, blow up the shield generator, and get out. If they manage to do that and still leave a thousand Imperial troops alive, then they’ve still got the job done.

It’s always interesting to me how the “Big flaws in Star Wars!” always vanish if you think about them a little bit!

Share This Post