"You. you're not BB."

Happy Friday, yes indeed yes indeed.

 

***

 

Ya’ll need to click on over to High Bias to check out Toland’s fine and entertaining recap of SXSW.

 

Love this line: “But Witch rocked reasonably loud and hard in the proper lighter-waving, beer-drinking, Satan-worshipping way, and the audience responded lustily.”

 

***

 

Today’s going to be a good day, hopefully. Slept okay, had my Starbucks…

 

Jeez, I seem to have been demoted though. Just when I was getting some recognition there, some props for the fact that I pour enough money into that joint to pay their light bill each month, suddenly the following scene occurs:

 

Barista: “I’ve got a venti iced coffee unsweetened for BB.”

 

Me: “Thanks.”

 

Barista: “You… you’re not BB.”

 

(Pause)

 

Me: “Sometimes I’m Brian. But when I use that name there’s usually another Brian here somehow, so I go with BB.”

 

(Barista smiles awkwardly, gives a pitying look) 

 

***

 

“You’re not BB”…?

 

Is there some other BB she thought I was impersonating?

 

“He’s a strappin’ sonofabitch, 6’7” easy, with a navel-length beard, knuckles like leather and barefoot. Stirs his decaf nonfat caramel macchiato with a high-carbon steel butterfly knife… you are NOT BB…”

 

***

 

Had a fine evening. Class was good. Came home and got to tuck in the kids.

 

When I read to THEBOY at bedtime, it’s usually a comic book these days. He’s into Fantastic Four stuff at the moment.

 

So I indulge my old voice acting whims a bit. You know, during the course of one FF comic book I end up trying to come up with unique voices for, say, Reed, Johnny, Sue, Ben, a stray scientist here and there, a bad guy or two, stray scientist’s daughter, cavemen who slipped through the GeoPortal, and an Indian cabbie with his fare.

 

THEBOY laughs the most at my bad Indian accent. I think my two female voices have actually prepared me to stage a one-man production of The Birdcage off-Broadway this fall.

 

***

 

More later, I can assure you.

Trust me, it's funny.

Heh… who is Sonya Kitchell? She’s the latest wunderkind being pushed by Starbucks. I’m kinda stunned by the line “the manifestation of something mystical” in her press release.

 

***

 

Know what’s a great B-side? “Kill Eye” by Crowded House.

 

***

 

I heard “Roam” by the B-52s this morning. Sitting through “Love Shack” nearly killed me last week. Not that it’s such an awful song; it just went through my head for about six hours.

 

For “Roam,” though, I listened to it and imagined those great alternate lyrics: “Whoooa Nipsy Russell!”

 

***

 

It was a pretty good evening in the Briscoe Casa de Amor.

 

The primavera-style pasta I made was surprisingly good. You can interpret that however you want. That’s s definite repeat dish.

 

Kids were good while I did dishes and Kelli went to her first kickboxing class. Turns out it’s an over-the-top cardio blast she wasn’t prepared for. She gutted out 30 of the 45 minutes. She’ll probably focus on Krav Maga classes instead. I’ll stick with KM myself, though I may add a kickboxing class here and there.

 

Here I am, mere days removed from a “I’d better not jog for six months” posting, and I found myself thinking that I could maybe JOG to KM classes for extra cardio work… the calf IS feeling better.

 

I’m a fool, yes.

 

***

 

So Adam Eaton has suffered a recurrence of the finger injury that caused him to miss a chunk of last season. It’s mere days from first pitch, and suddenly we’ve gone from wondering about the fifth starter to wonder about the fourth and fifth starters. Ugh.

 

***

 

But game #1 is Millwood versus Schilling in Arlington… that’s so damn cool. A genuine pitchers’ duel in Arlington. Wow.

 

***

 

Another great B-side: “Stone Cold Crazy” by Metallica, a cover of the Queen song. Wow.

 

***

 

More alternate lyrics: Remember that song “Born a Rebel” by Tom Petty? I always liked to imagine he was singing, “I was Barney Rubble… down in Bedrock… on a Saturday morning.”

 

Trust me, it’s funny.

 

***

 

THEBOY had the worst coughing fit I’ve ever seen last night. Must’ve been 15 minutes of him turning beet read, unable to catch his breath. He started coughing during a big belly laugh while I read him a comic book. Next thing I knew he was having this fit, and I gave him juice, Benadryl, and a nebulizer treatment. Kinda shook me up. He finally got over it and seemed fine this morning.

 

***

 

A not-so-great B-side: “Porcupine Pie” by Neil Diamond. Yep. I could sing you an entire verse, but I won’t. Can’t recall what the A-side was, so I guess I liked “Porcupine Pie” better.

 

***

 

Happy Thursday.

 

Correction

This is the correct URL for the KM place.

 

 

Mmmmm

“Hiiiiiigh for the riiiiiiiiiiide……..”

 

Man I feel like going for a good run.

 

Fudge.

 

 

Luby's: Home of the ninja chef

What I need, see, is a job that allows me to write what I want, when I want, in whatever quantities I want.

 

I’m guessing quantity would not be a problem.

 

***

 

Headed out for a quiet lunch earlier. I thought I’d pick up a newspaper then eat at the dreaded LUBY’S. I had to stop at two different grocery stores to find a Dallas paper. With half my lunch break already gone, I got my Luann platter and looked for a table.

 

There was a coworker, reading a book. We said hello, ditched our reading plans and sat down for a pleasant meal.

 

***

 

Lots of people diss Luby’s, but I like that place.

 

In fact, the one by the office here is startlingly good. I mean, they make a baked fish almondine that is out of this world! It’s good enough that I imagine there’s some real chef in the back. Maybe some down-on-his luck bad boy, kicked out of a posh chef or teaching job. He’s back there with the industrial-grade ingredients the truck brings every week, working his magic.

 

It’s that good. I had this squash the other day… hey, I LIKE squash, but it’s bland, admittedly.

 

And it was flavorful and tender, and better than any squash I’d ever had.

 

Luby’s: Home of the ninja chef.

 

***

 

Wow… the Rangers waived John Wasdin and released Ruby Durazo. Doesn’t this leave at least one spot on the 40-man roster open? I’ve heard rumors that they’re trying to trade for Atlanta’s John Thomson, who’d be a serviceable arm in the fifth spot for sure. He had moderate success here before.

 

***

 

Kelli was hanging out with a bunch of topless women this morning and apparently made a roomful of new friends.

 

And I’ll leave that at that.

 

 

Luby's: Home of the ninja chef

What I need, see, is a job that allows me to write what I want, when I want, in whatever quantities I want.

 

I’m guessing quantity would not be a problem.

 

***

 

Headed out for a quiet lunch earlier. I thought I’d pick up a newspaper then eat at the dreaded LUBY’S. I had to stop at two different grocery stores to find a Dallas paper. With half my lunch break already gone, I got my Luann platter and looked for a table.

 

There was a coworker, reading a book. We said hello, ditched our reading plans and sat down for a pleasant meal.

 

***

 

Lots of people diss Luby’s, but I like that place.

 

In fact, the one by the office here is startlingly good. I mean, they make a baked fish almondine that is out of this world! It’s good enough that I image there’s some real chef in the back. Maybe some down-on-his luck bad boy, kicked out of a posh chef or teaching job. He’s back there with the industrial-grade ingredients the truck brings every week, working his magic.

 

It’s that good. I had this squash the other day… hey, I LIKE squash, but it’s bland, admittedly.

 

And it was flavorful and tender, and better than any squash I’d ever had.

 

Luby’s: Home of the ninja chef.

 

***

 

Wow… the Rangers waived John Wasdin and released Ruby Durazo. Doesn’t this leave at least one spot on the 40-man roster open? I’ve heard rumors that they’re trying to trade for Atlanta’s John Thomson, who’d be a serviceable arm in the fifth spot for sure. He had moderate success here before.

 

***

 

Kelli was hanging out with a bunch of topless women this morning and apparently made a roomful of new friends.

 

And I’ll leave that at that.

 

 

 

"Saaaaay. is that gum?"

Just for grins, I’m going to intersperse this with recent fortunes from cookies I got at Asia Buffet.

 

To start:

 

“Find release from your cares, have a good time.”

 

***

 

It ended up being a fine weekend. The encounter with Crow Dog struck me as funny, though if he’d started that nonsense with my son around I wouldn’t have been so amused. And kids were definitely within earshot. I ceased participating just as soon as I could get away unnoticed.

 

***

 

I bought THEBOY a bow and arrows. We were at Academy. I was sort of lost in my shopping haze. I was there to check out wrestling shoes, though really I was there to kill time, get out of the house for a while.

 

He was in hardcore “buy me buy me” mode, asking for everything under the sun.

 

(“Look, kid… that’s a DART GUN. Give it up…”)

 

But the bow/arrows reminded me of having my own when I was young. Only $12.49.

 

So I took him home and guided him through using the thing. He was frustrated at first, of course, because it takes some coordination to line it all up, aim and fire. He started to get it after a while though.

 

I messed around with it. Even 10 feet from the target I couldn’t hit the bloody thing.

 

***

 

“Your love life will be happy and harmonious.”

 

***

 

After a while Kelli and THEGIRL came outside to check it out. Hmm… five-year-old with a bow/arrow and a toddler wandering to and fro… think I was a little anxious? Yep.

 

I came closer to getting shot than anyone though. “HEY… I’m STANDING HERE, dude… aim it the other direction…”

 

***

 

THEBOY begged me, BEGGED me to let him take his new rig to school today.

 

No dice.

 

He even tried to just get permission to take the bow…

 

Nope.

 

He was in full Little Attorney mode as I packed my stuff to leave for work when he noticed a new pack of Orbitz.

 

“Saaaaay… is that gum?” he asked.

 

“Sure, want some?”

 

Score one for distraction, crisis averted.

 

***

 

Target has hemp bread in the frozen food section. It looks just awful.

 

And I bought some Amy’s organic, uh, frozen pastries… you know, those things you and I would call Pop Tarts most of the time.

 

I tried some on THEBOY for breakfast. He didn’t like them from bite one, wouldn’t even try more.

 

I took a bite… holy crap, I can’t blame him.

 

***

 

Tomorrow: Toast made from hemp bread. “Eat your flaxseed spread, kid…”

 

Just kidding.

 

***

 

“Your mind is creative, original, and alert.”

 

***

 

Intervention last night was a heartbreaker. Chuckie Negron, son of 3 Dog Night vocalist Chuck Negron, is a heroin addict, has been for over a decade.

 

This guy’s a tough case. His mother shot up while pregnant with him, so in fact, he was born addicted. He and his brother grew up in a house full of rock star visitors. Their folks, when not partying, were either lying around stoned or sick from drugs. No rules to speak of regarding meals, behavior, hygiene, school… Bad business, really just a recipe for disaster.

 

Chuckie’s mother should be crowned Queen of the Enablers. Gives him money, drives him to get a fix, lets him shoot up in the SUV, takes him in after he bails out of rehab… she violates all of the parameters set by the intervention. The elder Chuck took a much firmer stance.

 

Chuckie got busted for stealing a car for drug money, and now he’s in prison.

 

There’s not always a happy ending.

 

***

 

“You are appreciated by your company.”

 

 

BB Meets Crow Dog

Warning: Foul language ahead.

***

I hit the Indian Market at the Arlington Convention Center this afternoon with a couple purposes in mind: Score some sort of Indian food for an ethnic potluck at a prof's house tonight, and hopefully find someone to participate in a project I'm putting together for multi-cultural counseling.

***

I had a fine time wandering up and down the aisles, checking out the art, soaking in a little culture. I think the word "Southwest" is in the full title of the this Indian Market, and I could see why. Lots of Navajos around, and the whole thing had a definite Arizona/New Mexico vibe.

There was a food court, sort of, but it didn't really satisfy what I was looking for. That is, it was basically a big buffet, and I couldn't quite convince myself that loading up with $20 worth of enchiladas would do the trick for the potluck. I considered getting a bunch of fry bread, but tucked that idea away as a plan B while I headed back into the market for another look around.

I stopped for a while at a stage to hear an Indian blues band cover BB King's "The Thrill is Gone." They were a trio, and the singer had a fine R&B shout that suited them well. His playing sounded like BB himself, and in fact, the singer called him "my uncle." It wasn't a barnstorming, knock-your-socks off rendition, but it was good. It felt like something was coming full circle somehow.

***

I found a vendor selling piñon nuts (or piñones in Spanish) and decided that'd be a good route for me. She was a little Navajo woman, and she explained that she'd picked the nuts and roasted them.

So I had something for the potluck. Just had to find a participant for my project.

***

I had a couple folks in mind for this. From the stage, the blues singer had pointed out a teacher for a round of applause. I thought she'd possibly be willing to participate if I could find her.

There was also a man I'd seen in the crowd soliciting folks to attend... something. Couldn't catch what he'd been saying, but he had a painted face, and I figured he'd be willing to talk.

***

And indeed, he was the one I found, over by the food court.

I approached him and introduced myself. I explained that I'm a grad student, and that I'm doing a project on ethnic identity.

He held my hand for way too long, and I got uncomfortable.

"What is it you want me to say?" he asked.

"Well see, I'm curious as to what goes into forming someone's ethnic identity," I answered, as I pulled my hand away to gesture in the air.

He leaned forward and said, "Do you smell alcohol?"

I said, "No," but actually thought--I didn't until you leaned over and asked me.

He was loaded.

***

Him: "Do you want to know what I am?"

Me: "Okay."

Him: "Crow dog!"

Me: (I've heard of a Crow... is Dog a type of Crow Indian?--I thought to myself as I stared at him quizzically)

Him: "Brulee!"

Me: (Isn't that a dessert?)

Him: "Sioux! It's all from the father. My great grandfather was a Sioux. His son married a Creek, and his son married a Tonkawa. We were all the same, didn't have labels until--hey, there was a white guy in there too. My grandmother would have starved if she hadn't married him, okay?"

Me: "Oh sure, I--"

Him: "Say, do you like chocolate pie?"

Me: "Um, a little bit."

Him: "Do you like lemon meringue pie?"

Me: "Yes! Yes I do!"

Him: "See, that's what it's like."

Me: "Uh..."

Him: "Because nobody GIVES A FUCK IF YOU LIKE LEMON MERINGUE PIE OR CHOCOLATE PIE!!"

I looked around and people were beginning to give this drunk Indian who was barking in my face a wide berth. I saw one mother and child zip by, and I decided I was in yet another of those utterly strange BB moments, and that I should just roll with it.

Me: "Okay, I see."

Him: "So... what do you want me to say?"

Me: "Well, see, I'm just... so you're saying it's paternal in your case? Your ethnic identity is based on--"

Him: "It's like pie man, because NOBODY gives a FUCK if you like LEMON MERINGUE or CHOCOLATE PIE!!"

Just then a man and a woman approached us. The man asked me, "Hey, where'd you get those piñon nuts?"

I gestured back into the guts of the market. He then began speaking to Crow Dog in Spanish, and I ducked out just as a woman walked up and handed him a glass of red wine.

***

I did get his email address, and I still hope I can maybe get some useful information out of him.

***

You ever feel like the craziest crap happens to you?

***

It's been a good day. Really. Kelli and the kids were in Corsicana, and I had a fistful of things to do today. Stats class this morning, then a quick lunch before heading off to Krav Maga class. I had a good workout there, and a really good time. I split my big toenail somehow, but I didn't hurt much.

***

After that was the Indian Market, then the book discussion (Native Son by Richard Wright) and ethnic potluck at Dr. Crook's house. It was a good, relaxed time. I didn't enjoy Native Son, but then again, I don't think it's meant to be enjoyed; I think it's meant to make you squirm.

It worked.

Dr. Crook asked if we had any other book suggestions for the next time he teaches the class, and I offered The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fist Fight in Heaven by Sherman Alexie. Good cultural insight, and not as horrifying as the Wright book. Oy.

***

Ya'll have a good weekend. Have some pie.

I have sustained a gum-related injury

I went to put a piece in my mouth and accidentally jabbed it into my lip. It really hurt.

 

That’s right: I missed my mouth.

 

Call me Captain Dweebo.

 

***

 

The boredom here… holy Ronald McDonald, I’m about ready to burst into a solo rendition of the theme from “Fame” just to break the monotony.

 

***

 

Eagerly awaiting Toland’s SXSW piece here.

 

***

 

There’s a new piece over at the BBaseBBall site on Alfonso Soriano if you’re interested.

 

***

 

Looking ahead a bit… Gotta do some reading and writing tonight for tomorrow’s class. I suppose we’ll get our test grades back—MAN that was a rough test. Curious to see how I did for sure. Crossing the fingers, hoping for a B.

 

This weekend we could end up in Corsicana, but I’ve got tickets to the Texas Indian Market as well. I’d like to go out there and see if I can soak in some culture instead of just shopping.

 

***

 

“FAME! I’m gonna live forever… I’m gonna learn how to FLY! I’m gonna (something something)… baby remember my name…”

 

 

 

KM

It was a good evening in the Briscoe household. THEBOY has been very good lately. He’s had a good long stretch with no timeouts at school—excellent! THEGIRL barely naps anymore, and since she’s still not feeling 100% due to a cough, she can be cranky. But really, she’s been a little more even-tempered lately, and sweet and cute.

 

***

 

I visited a martial arts school a couple miles from the house. They mostly teach Krav Maga. If you’re not familiar with it (like me), it’s Israeli self-defense. I’d say it most closely resembles kickboxing or Muay Thai. Whit, if you are reading and would care to comment/clarify I’d be happy for the input.

 

So I went in and met Sensei Clay L’Onis, the owner. This guy is about 6’5”, and can’t help but be a bit intimidating despite his jovial demeanor. He ran us through a fast-paced class, and did a good job of not singling me out while not ignoring me either. The other students seemed nice, and my brief exposure to Krav Maga was encouraging.

 

It’s a very intuitive art, with lots of punches, elbows and knees. We worked on a number of combinations, as well as a gun disarm. I have almost no striking experience, and it showed. I’ve now got some nice, purple knuckles that somehow don’t feel as bad as they look.

 

We’re considering the family plan quite seriously. It’s not cheap, but for what he’s offering it’s actually quite reasonable. It’s close to home, the schedule is friendly… it’s really pretty ideal. It was a good workout.

 

***

 

In fact, it was nice to try this while in shape instead of going in overweight like I did in Judo. I spent a lot of time in there just hoping to hold on, hoping I’d have enough in the tank. This time around no matter what Sensei put us through I knew I had the reserves to do it.

 

***

 

Boring here. I may post quite often.

no imagination, no redeeming value

It’s my last day before the Phoenix trip. I hope to do some posting from there to the baseball blog.

 

That blog (also linked on the side… have a gander) isn’t going to be an ongoing, regularly-updated thing. It’s just for baseball events like this trip.

 

***

 

Well, I’ve finally hit bottom. That is, I’m finally bothered by a kids’ show.

 

Barney didn’t bother me.

 

Wiggles, nah. Elmo, nope. Not Dora, Blue’s Clues, Teletubbies, Dragon Tales, or any of the superhero stuff.

 

Well, until now.

 

THEBOY has some DVDs of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

 

Now I’m annoyed.

 

Bad art, bad voices, bad plots, no imagination, no redeeming value… Each of those shows seems like it’s twice as long as it is. I guess these are from the 80s. Really, it’s a concept with a little potential if you’ve got a little creativity to back it up.

 

Whoever was behind this show did not. Blech.

 

***

 

The forecast for the Phoenix area this weekend: Lows in the mid-40s, highs in the mid to upper 50s, and RAINY.

 

What the heck?

 

***

 

Had a fine hot bath last night. Ever get the temperature just right? Yeeeeeeeah. Nice to have hot water back. The shower at the rec center sufficed for a few days, but really, nothing beats the comfort of home.

 

***

 

Lunch approaches… clock’s ticking, folks…

Here it is...

The gayest article of clothing I own. I feel like some sort of Justice League reject in this thing. Hey, for some reason I thought it'd be good to run in, but man, I can't go out in public wearing it...

(If you pay $7.50 for something that's only good for a laugh, is it still a bargain...?)

***

Hey, at least I didn't even TRY the "I don't need a license for THESE guns joke, right?

This Week's Greatest Hits

Despite a couple of royal disasters, this week actually hasn’t been bad. Some random highlights:

 

Listening to THEGIRL, though not feeling well, blurting out, “Rock a baaaaaaaby!” as she rocked with Kelli last night.

 

THEBOY excitedly examining his new all-ages Fantastic Four comic. Man, it’s got jets, rockets, androids, and a monster made of sound fighting a robot made of a force field (not to mention the Four themselves)… that kid was in his ELEMENT.

 

Kelli, surprising me by wearing my Ramones shirt to lunch yesterday. She’s a punk rocker.

 

Before dawn yesterday morning, running past the tree on Tiny Hill where I always see squirrels. In four laps I didn’t see a one. So I took the opportunity to yell at them, “Wake up, a**holes!” every time I went past the tree.

 

(Perhaps runners are a wee bit crazy)

 

The plumber’s bill being much less than we expected.

 

The free cup of coffee from Starbucks this morning.

 

The fact that, surprisingly, my calf does not hurt.

 

The discussion with THEBOY’s teacher during she told me that:

 

1. He is a good listener
2. He comes to class ready to do his work
3. He does not suffer fools gladly.

 

My boy!

 

***

 

I don’t yet know what the extent of my posts from Phoenix will be. In a perfect world I’ll have a baseball-only blog complete with photos from the day.

 

In a realistic world, after running around, doing baseball stuff non-stop for 15-18 hours a day, I might just be too dang tired to do a thing with the blog.

 

***

 

Have a good evening.

The Conclusion of the Boondoggle...

WE HAVE HOT WATER ONCE AGAIN! WHOO HOO!

This

Is

 

So

 

FREAKIN’

 

Boring!

Oh the Colors...

Man, when I update remotely I get all sorts of screwy colors and fonts and sizes.

 

***

 

Well, I leave for Phoenix in two days, and now THEGIRL is sick, home with a fever. I hope she’s better before I depart.

 

We knew she wasn’t herself last night. Sure enough, around midnight she woke up crying, with a 102.9 fever. I’m told that this morning she woke up with a low-grade fever, and that she ate a bit. That’s a good sign.

 

***

 

I feel like I’m caught up on my rest.

 

And the calf, surprisingly, isn’t bothering me. 24 hours ago I thought I might have to hang up my running shoes for a long time. But now—while I’m not ready to make any grand pronouncements—I feel like I could do some more running on this thing. Probably tomorrow evening I’ll hit the track and knock out a few miles. If that goes well I might see if I can run in Phoenix too.

 

***

 

Ya’ll have a good afternoon.

Junior Mince

Well well well…

 

***

 

I’ve been up since 4:30 yes indeed I have and why yes I’d certainly like a fine caffeinated beverage if you’ve got it just give it to me INTRAVENOUSLY if you will and no I’ll be just fine thank you now get the heck away from me.

 

***

 

Dreamed I was breaking trees with my hands. Yeah, sort of like those gorilla demonstrations of dominance you see on documentaries. Guess that was part of the fallout from my little run-in with “junior.”

 

***

 

Woke up and simply could not get back to sleep. I was replaying the near-fracas in my head, then got “Sabbath Bloody Sabbath” by Black Sabbath stuck in my head.

 

THEN I realized I’d have time for a long run if I’d get my butt out of bed.

 

***

 

So I got up, did some writing, put on my stuff and headed for the track. Really, the track doesn’t allow folks out there when the sun isn’t up. At 5:45am, well, that meant I was breaking the rules. And sure enough campus security came sniffing around, but they didn’t run me off.

 

My run was good, yes. Stamina was decent, mechanics okay… 47 degress felt a lot colder than that out on Tiny Hill. I ran four miles, BUT… cripes, this calf thing is flaring up.

 

It hurts a bit. We’ll see what tomorrow brings, but if this injury recurs I think I’ll have to shut down the running for a good while, dang it. I can’t keep doing this. That’d mean no Big D race next month, which is disappointing. Maybe this fall I could run again.

 

***

 

I’m a little tired.

 

***

 

I’ve received some good input, some good opinions about what happened at the video store last night. Really, no one told me anything I didn’t already know: I could have handled that better. Having a pissing contest with a 17-year-old (or 18 or 20 or whatever) was asking for trouble. Just leaving would have been the best bet. Or addressing him calmly, if at all.

 

Fighting a minor would be a big mistake. I don’t need to go to jail; I’m a parent, and good parents don’t do that.

 

In fact, I’d probably get kicked out of school if they caught wind of that.

 

I am certainly glad I had the nerve to stand up for myself; believe me. And prevailing in a war of words with this kid was a modest victory at best. I’ll take a lesson from this and move forward. Hell, it had been 16 or 17 years since I blew a fuse…I guess I’m not that much of a hothead.

 

***

 

And you know, I ended up feeling kinda sorry for junior.

 

***

 

Friday we leave for Phoenix. C’mon clock, don’t be cruel.

 

 

Junior Mince

Well well well…

 

***

 

I’ve been up since 4:30 yes indeed I have and why yes I’d certainly like a fine caffeinated beverage if you’ve got it just give it to me INTRAVENOUSLY if you will and no I’ll be just fine thank you now get the heck away from me.

 

***

 

Dreamed I was breaking trees with my hands. Yeah, sort of like those gorilla demonstrations of dominance you see on documentaries. Guess that was part of the fallout from my little run-in with “junior.”

 

***

 

Woke up and simply could not get back to sleep. I was replaying the near-fracas in my head, then got “Sabbath Bloody Sabbath” by Black Sabbath stuck in my head.

 

THEN I realized I’d have time for a long run if I’d get my butt out of bed.

 

***

 

So I got up, did some writing, put on my stuff and headed for the track. Really, the track doesn’t allow folks out there when the sun isn’t up. At 5:45am, well, that meant I was breaking the rules. And sure enough campus security came sniffing around, but they didn’t run me off.

 

My run was good, yes. Stamina was decent, mechanics okay… 47 degress felt a lot colder than that out on Tiny Hill. I ran four miles, BUT… cripes, this calf thing is flaring up.

 

It hurts a bit. We’ll see what tomorrow brings, but if this injury recurs I think I’ll have to shut down the running for a good while, dang it. I can’t keep doing this. That’d mean no Big D race next month, which is disappointing. Maybe this fall I could run again.

 

***

 

I’m a little tired.

 

***

 

I’ve received some good input, some good opinions about what happened at the video store last night. Really, no one told me anything I didn’t already know: I could have handled that better. Having a pissing contest with a 17-year-old (or 18 or 20 or whatever) was asking for trouble. Just leaving would have been the best bet. Or addressing him calmly, if at all.

 

Fighting a minor would be a big mistake. I don’t need to go to jail; I’m a parent, and good parents don’t do that.

 

In fact, I’d probably get kicked out of school if they caught wind of that.

 

I am certainly glad I had the nerve to stand up for myself; believe me. And prevailing in a war of words with this kid was a modest victory at best. I’ll take a lesson from this and move forward. Hell, it had been 16 or 17 years since a blew a fuse…I guess I’m not that much of a hothead.

 

***

 

And you know, I ended up feeling kinda sorry for junior.

 

***

 

Friday we leave for Phoenix. C’mon clock, don’t be cruel.

 

 

 

 

The Beast in BB

I nearly fought a guy at the video store last night.

***

Yeah, I can barely believe it either. First time since '89 or '90 that I came close to a scrap.

And like last time, it was over a dispute in a parking lot.

***

I'd dropped off the overdue DVD at the video store. I went to the van to leave, and a white truck parked to my right. But before I could start it and put it in reverse, he backed out again, and stayed a vehicle length back, just waiting there. I kind of got the idea he wanted me to back out, but about half my view was now blocked. He was also right where I'd have liked to cut my wheels and turn to leave.

So I waited, unsure what he was doing.

In the spot on the other side of where he'd been, a family got in their van. The truck honked, then began to park again as both vans eased back.

Then I heard the truck driver, a kid of 17 or 18, yell at me through his window, something about "move your ass."

And the words just came out as I rolled down my window.

Me: "Exactly what the hell do you think the problem is?"

Him: "I'm trying to park and you won't move your ass, bitch."

Me: "You got a hell of a mouth on you, you little sonofabitch."

HIm: "I'll show you who has a mouth on him."

Me: "I do NOT know just what in the hell you think my parking spot has to do with you, junior, but you better shut up."

He started to say something, then turned to his two friends in the truck and said, "Ya'll stop laughing. It ain't funny him calling me 'junior' and all."

He got out and I stayed there, halfway backed out as he looked away. Young guy, shorter than me but maybe the same weight. He ever-so-boldly took the top step by the video store door and barked, "Go!" at me. I just stared as he turned and walked in. His friends were laughing as he walked in behind them.

***

I was pissed off. I honestly didn't want to fight that young man, but I wasn't about to get chastised for nothing and drive away.

***

I'm still not sure what to think of the whole thing. I've got a broad spectrum of friends out there. Some would have done the same thing, some would have walked away.

I guess we know what I would have done.

Not if the kids had been there though.

My Starter

Llorca found this for me. It’s a statement from Be Here to Love Me director, Margaret Brown.

 

***

 

The film had footage of Lightnin’ Hopkins performing, which is damn cool. And a nice snippet of Townes doing Hopkin’s “My Starter Won’t Start This Morning” on Austin City Limits.

 

***

 

When I was really getting into blues as a young man, sometimes I didn’t have much to go on. I’d get interested in some guy simply because I’d heard of him, or a guy I liked name-dropped him.

 

So Dad took a business trip to Dallas, and he picked me up some Lightnin’ Hopkins records out of the blue. One was Po’ Lightnin’ (on Arhoolie) if I recall. And Blues in My Bottle and a couple more maybe.

 

It was a direct hit. Great stuff, just gold from start to finish. I listened to Lightnin’ non-stop for quite a while. I really liked “My Starter Won’t Start This Morning,” which Townes does in the film, actually.

 

***

 

So good work, Pop. Lots of guys I used to listen to back then (Johnny Winter, Roy Buchanan) have become less interesting to me, but I still love Lightnin’.

 

***

 

And on a final Townes note, for now anyway… he’s the source of one of my favorite quotes: “I just need an overwhelming amount of love. And a nap. Mostly a nap.”

 

***

 

Went for a jog yesterday. The good news is that my calf felt/feels fine.

 

The bad news is that otherwise that jog was a disaster. I only intended to go two miles. I’d stretched my favors from Kelli as far as I could, so I didn’t want to be gone more than about a half hour.

 

(She let me crash a bit since I’d gone to bed at 2am and gotten up at 7am… nice of her to do that for me since going to bed so late was my own fault. Getting up so early was THEBOY’s fault though)

 

The one-mile track at the junior college is my favorite place to run. It’s on a fairly open patch of ground that’s slightly elevated compared to its surroundings. Where I come from they’d call it a mound. Maybe “tiny hill” is better.

 

Anyway, there’s nothing to block the wind, so on a blustery day I was basically running into a 40mph headwind half the time. Having it at my back was no fun either.

 

My stamina was poor, it was 85 degrees, and I couldn’t seem to breathe well. I’d say the first 9 miles of the marathon were an easier run than yesterday’s two, somehow.

 

***

 

Did some yard work (hello blistered hands), showered at the rec center, and watched USA vs. Japan on DVD. Ended up being a fine evening, though I hit the sheets early.

 

***

 

Coming soon: The gayest piece of clothing I own.