I felt like Lewis and Clark traveling in a sedan caravan.

I suppose what I remember most about my first excursion this year was that endless stretch of Ohio that bleeds into Pennsylvania – the precipice between the hills that age and become mountains when you cross the border. It’s like watching the evolution of nature with each mile. These memories are at the crux of every road trip. You have the enthusiasm at the get go, then the reward at the end. The middle – that’s where the magic is.

I find myself thinking about these middles a lot more than what bookend them. I think that’s what I like most about traveling – getting there. There’s nothing more than getting to lay your eyes on things you haven’t seen before. Sometimes it’s boring (ie: cornfields) or exhilarating (ie: the Appalachians). I constantly find myself in awe that I’m actually doing it, escaping from my house and making a future for myself. When I was younger, I don’t think I afforded myself that kind of freedom in my head. I had my own restraints. I honestly didn’t think I was going anywhere – nor did I really know I had the power to.

I guess that’s why I do it now. That’s why I’ve been to so many different states (and one other country) in this past year. I’m making up for lost time. I want to experience it now, not wait for some other time that I don’t know that I have. I understand how that may sound morose, but it’s true. I constantly feel I’m working against a clock.

I feel I’ve woven a pretty nice tapestry: Baltimore, D.C., New York City (x2), Albany, Buffalo, Urbana-Champaign, Bloomington, Iowa City, Toronto, Minneapolis (x3), Madison, and Memphis. The problem with this is that I haven’t gone that far West of the Mississippi, but I’m working to rectify that as early as January.

You’ve been a part of these memories – reading, encouraging, experiencing with, filling in the blanks.

Coloring in between my lines.

While I agree that most of the DirecTV spots involving classic movies can be really entertaining (this, in particular), but the Tommy Boy one is pretty tasteless.

There’s two things that I find offensive: that Chris Farley’s likeness is being used to shill premium television, and the fact that David Spade took the dough to get in another cheap laugh at the expense of his dead “friend”. The emphasis is on “friend” because Spade skipped Farley’s funeral because “he could not be in a room where Chris was in a box.” That’s always sounded like a weak excuse to me. Then he does this.

Knowing that Spade and Farley shared a close personal relationship, and for Spade to accept compensation to depreciate (comically or not) Farley’s likeness comes off desperate, and frankly, in poor taste. I know Spade just had a kid, but he couldn’t possibly need the money that bad. He’s stayed afloat this decade on “Joe Dirt” and “Dickie Roberts”. For Spade, I guess the almighty dollar is more important than friendship. I’m not clear if the Farley family authorized the commercial, or even if they had the power to in the first place. Either way, there are plenty great comedies to choose from. Don’t pick the one with the helpless dead guy.

Even though it’s part of the ‘joke’, Spade says something profound in the commercial:

“Great, I’m here with Tons O’ Fun, when I could be at home watching DirecTV…”

I don’t know about you, but I’d rather be with Tons O’Fun.

I kinda miss having the guy around.

I just wanted to issue a quick apology. The site underwent a hiatus for the past month due to a few freelance opportunities that took up most of my free time. Have no fear though, we’re coming back. Currently, we’re editing a rather lengthy piece to put on this site and should be up in the coming days.

So stay tuned, and thank you for your support!

Pillaging my old LiveJournal today for things I definitely regret saying. Enjoy.

October 11, 2004

I’m really hoping Dos Ambuli is going to get off the ground. It’s got potential. If only we had drums. But if it turns out how we’re hoping, it’s gonna be something really cool. Or I’m just talking out of my ass again.

December 5, 2004:

So I applied at the (ED: FRUIT COMPANY) Store tonight. Online. Yeah. Me. Applied for another job. I don’t think I’ll have any chance of getting it anyways.

February 21, 2005

I think I’m gonna try this low-carb thing.

April 25, 2005

“Make Believe” is a record that may not go down as a classic by any means, but it’s an exhiliarating, refreshing listen from a band that I thought long ago had forgotten what made them popular in the first place.

October 24, 2005

I’m drinking Lemonade Iced Tea from the carton.

I’ve never understood Monty Python. Their humor completely escapes me. To this day, I have not seen all of Monty Python and the Holy Grail because I cannot stay awake for it. The count now is around seven. I admit the part with the Black Knight is pretty funny, but the rest I’m not entertained by. The same goes for Monty Python’s Flying Circus and it’s Ministry of Silly Walks. Let’s get the record straight: I don’t actively dislike them. Make your case to me in the comments, and if it’s good enough, I’ll give them another shot.

I’ve never understood why people continuously find OK Computer to be a better record than Kid A. It’s not. It’s a classic case of parts being greater than the sum. Sure, you’ve got “Paranoid Android”, “Exit Music (From A Film)” and “Karma Police”, but the whole record, after several listens, doesn’t fit together congrouously. Kid A, in all of it’s discordant glory, is a much more impressive feat. There’s the antiseptic title track, with it’s inhuman vocal processing and gorgeous wash of synthesizers, the unforgettable bass riff that starts “The National Anthem”, the spectacular pop of “Optimistic”, and of course, the overlapping vocals on “Idioteque”. Kid A takes you to a place. It breathes. It’s alive. OK Computer spends an entire record telling you it’s not.

I’ve never understood audiophiles. I love music, but I’ve never been particularly concerned with how music sounds. Most of my music listening comes digitally, either when I’m on my computer or through my iPod, and on the rare occasion, a record or CD. That’s fine enough for me. With that said, I don’t enjoy fuzzy mp3s, and anything below 128kbps is UNACCEPTABLE.

I’ve never understood mayonnaise. In fact, it should be abolished. Absolutely disgusting.

I’m trying to read a bit more lately. I’ve always liked reading and have tried to read more than a few books a year, but lately, I’ve noticed, it’s very difficult for me to pay attention to certain books – mainly those considered ‘classics’.

Admittedly, most of my reading material nowadays probably comes within the past few decades. I’ve been enjoying books by NPR contributor Sarah Vowell – I’ve read both The Partly Cloudy Patriot and Assassination Vacation in the past two months, Craig Thompson’s stellar graphic novel/autobiography Blankets, and a little less recently, Jonathan Safran Foer’s brilliant, yet mistifying Everything is Illuminated and Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close.

I’ve tried to read Jack Kerouac’s On The Road on three separate occasions. Every time I’ve tried, I’ve fallen asleep before the 50 page mark – in broad daylight, no less. For someone as my self who enjoys going on road trips, you’d think it it’d be a no brainer. Instead, I feel zero connection to it. Let’s take a quote lifted from the first chapter:

“They danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I’ve been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn…”

The slang fails to hook me. I want to be able to enjoy Kerouac’s prose, instead it comes off kind of rambly and self-serving. I find that when I’m reading something, and it’s not linear, I have a hard time following. I’ve found that books written from an era I’m unfamiliar with are also a struggle to read. I’m disappointed in myself, as I feel these are the types of books I should read, but don’t particularly enjoy. Era specific novels such as Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad and The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald have been miserable failures on my part as well.

I don’t get you.

I’m not attacking the integrity of these works, I’m stating that I simply lack the ability to deconstruct and analyze them effectively. In more recent books, I’ve spent reading – Dave Eggers’s A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius comes to mind – the author’s stream of conciousness writing is alternately fascinating as it is frustrating. I have a real desire to finish the book, but often have had to put it down for long stretches of time. I began reading the book in March 2006 and have yet to complete it.

I’ve made many references to how I’m attempting to read David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest. It’s an incredibly dense, if not readable novel that I still feel a bit unprepared to get in the thick of. Before giving it a serious crack, I’ve acquired his Consider The Lobster: And Other Essays collection to complete first. One thing I’ve noticed about his writing is that it commands the reader’s absolute attention. There is an incredible amount of analysis and detail written into his pieces. It’s certainly accessible, but can also be a bit exhausting.

Perhaps youth is the best excuse for my intolerance for classic or dense literature. Maybe I haven’t hit the emotional plateau necessary to break down somewhat difficult books, or maybe I lack the ability to find the threads in these books that make them so engaging to such a wide audience.

I’ll keep trying. No promises, though.