must publish blog... I can't compete with the previous post, in either writing ability or creativity. So in an attempt to empower my collaborators, I'm presenting some phrases and sentences which I hope you'll find useful in your own writings. This is inspired somewhat by Glenn Gould's "The Idea of North," and other very deep works by people who aspire to be writers. Enjoy.
1. He fingered thoughtfully the inside of his left nostril.

2. The dog smelled not of wet dog so much as of garbage, and old garbage at that. His aroma evoked images of a salad bowl filled with old banana peels, uncooked chicken, and onion peels. His breath was truly devastating.

3. Mediocrity has a satisfying resonance. It signifies an achievement of sorts, of the most that an individual is capable of achieving, although still not quite sufficient.

4. You should field-dress a skunk much as you would a possum, beginning first by skinning the animal and then proceeding to remove the intestines. Be sure to save the intestines. They are irresistable bait for catfish and buzzards.  ¶ 11:07 PM 0 comments

  A distinguished career ends
Last night at Herbst Theater in San Francisco, after a series of disastrous incidents, I closed the books on an illustrious career. I am saying goodbye to a vastly unrewarding profession, whose importance can not possibly be overstated. It is the bedrock of modern instrumental music making, without which the world's music would stumble over itself in chaotic paroxysms of staves and measures. I am a professional page turner.

A page turner works behind the glamorous facades of piano superstars and violin divas. It has been my life's passion, and I have built an impressive reputation within this invisible profession. I have "turned" for such household names as Radu Lupu, Fou Ts'ong, and Håkon Austbø, and in the world's finest concert venues -- including a monumental Viennese commemoration performance that took place in Schubert's unfinished basement. I was the best of the best. But the higher you climb, the further you fall.

My first lapse came in the opening half of last night's concert during the pianist Peter Serkin's rendering of Takemitsu's Rain Tree Sketch. Having properly moistened my index finger, I had begun the slow half-stand-up-and-reach-for-the-page move, when I noticed that my silk tie was hanging down over the keys. This occurred at the most inopportune time, when Mr. Serkin's hands were cascading down from the upper registers of the keyboard. I managed to execute the turn, but couldn't get my tie out of the way before a sforzando punctuation came right over it, mangling the musical phrase and wedging my tie in between the bottom-most keys. It took the better part of a minute to free myself from the ivory prison, during which I was -- to Mr. Serkin's chagrin -- adding an ugly basso accompaniment with my hysterical tugging.

As horrible as it was, my blunder was a mere peccadillo compared to what came next. The second half of the program featured the landmark 4'33" of Silence by the avant-garde composer John Cage. With no audible sound or visible markings on the page, this piece creates huge demands on the page turner. It requires incredible concentration, but alas, around minute number three, I had become completely lost, and missed the turn. Haunted by the memories of the tie fiasco, I had become unfocused and committed the unthinkable, the ultimate sin of page turners. I have failed my humble stewardship of the Arts, and I am moving on. As life goes, it is time to turn the page.  ¶ 10:32 PM 2 comments

  Nostalgia   ¶ 8:50 AM 0 comments

  A house is a home
Check out Project Row Houses next time you have a minute or two to kill online. It's an art thing in Houston I saw last weekend. It's a really cool story. Back in the 90's, there was a predominately black neighborhood in Houston that was in decline, with a couple of blocks of row houses. Somebody (I think from the neighborhood) decided they needed to be preserved, and to make a long story very short, 7 of them are now used for art installations. 15 more are used for housing for single mothers, I think.
Each one of the 7 art houses is different, and they change every couple of months. An artist gets to gussie up one of the houses however she sees fit, and it stays that way for a few months. The art was interesting, but what I really thought was cool was that families used to live in 200 square-foot homes. One room, four walls. No plumbing, and a stove in the middle of the room to cook. Must have been hot in the Houston summer.
I got to thinking, if I was single and in my 20's, that would be the thing for me. Add a bathroom, I guess, and then it would be the thing for me. A bed, some chairs, a bookshelf. And a pile in one corner for all my junk mail and important papers. It would also be a great getaway for a vacation-- either a house on the beach or in the mountains. So simple, and clean. Whitewashed, of course, and complete with a porch.  ¶ 10:52 PM 0 comments

  Man time The NCAA tournament is not my favorite sporting event. It is however, a great excuse to circle the wagons with the rest of the men out there, drink beer, wax eloquent on things that aren't important, and most importantly surround yourself with people who WON'T call you on it.

I went to the first round games here in Columbus, and had a good time watching Albany get dismantled and then an even better time watching the Tennesse band play "ole rockytop" 12 different ways while the "vols" set a bunch of records including most points scored in a first round game. It was a real shootout.

Coincidentally, the game ended about the same time my chances of making any of my money back in the office pool. Day 2 of the first round.

As we were standing outside the seating part of the arena, intently watching Winthrop upset the team I had bet on, I asked the crowd where Winthrop was. A lot of men looked sheepisly away, and then someone behind me mumbled (in response to my making eye contact) that "its somewhere in the Carolinas I think."

And then it dawned on me. That others are faking interest as badly as me. That other people paid hundreds of $ for tickets, and didn't know any more than me about who these teams were.

So my plan for fame and fortune is this.
1) hire a good looking woman to act as a college student doing a report for a class
2) have her ask men outside NCAA events where Winthrop, Butler, or Belmont is located.
We will measure
a) how long it takes to get all 50 states
b) how many men admit to not knowing
Then in response to any incorrect answer, say for instance, "Missouri", the reporter will answer, "Really? I'm from Missouri and haven't even heard of it." The video footage of the guys response is where I'll get rich! (blackmail or America's funniest home videos... haven't decided yet)  ¶ 3:37 PM 0 comments

  On self improvement I spent most of last week at the Western United Dairymen's conference in Bakersfield, CA. I enjoyed it thoroughly-- dairymen seem to be good people, if a shade more conservative than I am. Or maybe two shades.

The keynote speaker at the conference was Rulon Gardener, who you may remember was the udnerdog gold medal heavyweight wrestler at the 2000 summer olympics. He also grew up on a dairy, making him a natural for this event. The gold medal is by no means the most interesting story of his life. Here are a few of the things that have happened to him along the way:

1. Broke vertebrae on the mat a year or two before his gold medal, losing the match
2. Crashed snow mobile in a river in the Rockies and spent the night in subzero weather (feet had to be reconstructed and one toe amputated because of frostbite)
3. Crashed airplane into a mountain lake and swam a mile to shore in 44 degree water (1 week before conference)

Would you call that bad luck, or somebody who takes excessive risks? I'm not sure, but he's definitely a survivor.

By his own admission, Rulon is not the brightest light on the porch. In his telling of his life's story, his accomplishments have little to do with talent or natural ability and everything to do with working 16 hour days every day and staying focused on his goals. That message resonated well with the dairymen, most of whom also work 16 hour days seven days a week, and who focus all their energy on one thing-- teats. Like Rulon, most of these guys were also extremely successful in their own rite without the benefit of an impressive education or 1500 SAT scores.

Contrast that with the flotilla of self-help books available in the Phoenix airport, which I spent some time in on the way home. These advocate all sorts of 7-, 9-, or 12-step programs that will turn your life around, make you rich, help you lose weight (and keep it off!), or enable you to accomplish more in less time. Clearly, they're selling what everybody wants to buy. I would gladly pay $25 for a book or even $25,000 for a sure-fire shortcut to success and happiness.

Meanwhile, Rulon has a book out. I think it's called "Push to the Finish," or something like that. I don't think his secret is a multi-step program or a mnemonic device that will make me friends at cocktail parties. Having listened to the guy for an hour or so, I think I can pretty much guess everything his book will tell me, and it's not what people usually pay to hear.

This is starting to sound pretty preachy, so I'd like to take a different tack with today's blog. I would like to renounce the notion that I need to be better, more effective, etc. I hereby resolve not to work 16 hours a day, not to stay extremely focused on one goal, and not to become fabulously wealthy. I also resolve not to engage in any programs that promise to improve me and not to read any books dedicated to making me a better person. I resolve to maintain my average work ethic and lack of focus in life, to continue drinking beer, and to make myself available to others who need company and support in doing the same. With blog as my witness.  ¶ 6:16 PM 2 comments