So it's been over a year since Marcy and I moved from a relative cultural prairie, that being Rochester, N.Y., to a deep pool of knowledge and culture, that being Boston.
That made it all the more strange when Marcy and I tried to locate ONE good classical station here.
Then she told me WXXI, the Rochester classical station, broadcasts streaming audio. I spent the large part of my morning today listening to all manner of classical stuff.
The problem I have with classical stations is when they're run like a different format. Take classic rock: You hear Devil Went Down to Georgia on your way to work in the morning and the next day, you might hear it again on your way home.
But I don't want to hear the same opera recording in the same 48-hour period. Or that week, for that matter, unless it's one of my favorite tunes and even then please for God's sake play a different recording or arrangement.
This weekend I embarked on a feat of monumental minority so fervently fun that the very existence of this task filled me with a sense of purpose, determination and wonder. I am of course referring to the fact that I trimmed my beard. Irish genes being what they are, I never had enough facial fur to warant such a chore. But age being what it is, I've now passed the threshold of fuzz and delved headlong into hair territory. All this means is that my beard was gettin' scraggly. Unfortunately the cheeky patchiness still prevails, and the sides look a little pekid. But I rock a mean moustache to compensate. My dad didn't get to grow a beard until well past age 26, and even then his military career required certain facial hygiene requirements. As I hacked at it inch by inch with an electric trimmer, I came across a troubling strand that I saw a couple weeks prior, but chose to ignore as if that might make it go away, or convince it not to bring any friends along. A grey hair made its way on to the chin. Marcy tells me it could pass as blonde, and that's comforting, but we both know the truth.
A blog twofer: This weekend the battle between me and the entire year of 2002 took a tragic turn against me. I purchased my very first iPod.
(In case you were confused, I put obtaining a first iPod as an achievement worth note in 2002, not six years later when everybody's got em. But I gotta do all I can to convince me to keep going to the gym - that's why I bought new sweats, new shirts, and yes, an iPod. Maybe new sneakers too, but Larry at the gym told me about a 67-year-old who decided to climb Mt. Rainier and did it by training in ratty old tennis shoes. The theory was he made his workouts as physically demanding as possible so that he'd have an easier time down the mountain.)
So I got a cute little shuffle. I was going to hold out and save my money until I can get a big monster iPod, but I'm happy with what I got. If anything, I've put most of what I intend to have on it for my trips to the gym, and it's less than half full. Or more than half empty, depending on how you look at it. Damn you 2002. I still struck a big blow with the fact that it was the year I quit smoking, but I'll never forgive you for this:
Step 1: Borrow your friend's collection of Led Zepplin CDs. For this exercise, let's use Led Zeppelin, II, III, Houses of the Holy, and In Through the Out Door.
Step 2: Put said songs into your iPod.
Step 3: Begin jamming to "Over the Hills and Far Away" like it's 1983 and you've just purchased your very first Walkman.
Step 4: Get called on it by your wife, who makes fun of your head-boppin' shenanigans.
The Mrs. was fortunate enough to miss work today onaccounta an over-hyped snowstorm. But receiving emails with photos like these makes you forget your jealousies. These were sent by Joxer this morning. Actually, they were sent by Marcy but it was his idea. He'd do it himself but lacks the opposable thumbs.
Steak. Broiled, juicy, delicious steak. Steak that normally would have cost $9 but I bought for $4.90. Lovely steak. Now add to that broiled yumminess some melted gorgonzola cheese. Oven-fried french fries. Broccoli. MMMMMM .... broccoli. Better with cheese sauce, but now when you've melted gorgonzola on your steak. Cheese and meat. Beautiful. It's enough to make a man weep. My wife rules.
I'd have even more to look forward to than going to my sister- and brother-and-law's for the game Saturday. Life would just be a heck of a lot easier if the Pats and Bills weren't in the same conference. Not to say I won't enjoy the food, and the company, but it's tough being in a city where you're in the same conference as the hometown. Sabres vs. Bruins wasn't an issue last season, as Sabres = good and Bruins = bad. But this year's different. As for the Celts, I pretty much could get behind them if I gave a hooping funt about gangsta rap. I mean ... the NBA. Ah, Michael Jordan, you are missed.
I remember the first time I laid eyes on a GameBoy. It was, and I think still is, a mind-blowing development to the world of electronic gaming. I remember being jealous at first of my friend as he showed me this crazy new game, Tetris, though the feeling didn't last long because less than a year later I was afforded a GB of my own. Nintendo's come very far since then, but still earns its reputation as innovator with the release of the Wii. Sure, they could have spent more time developing the graphics and sound over the functionality of its remote system, but that remote is what sets it apart in the personal gaming market. When I bought mine a couple months ago, it didn't occur to me that the giddiness I experienced was much like that of my first GameBoy experience. Like many things, you had to be there to know what I'm talking about. By that I mean if you weren't introduced to the GameBoy when it was a new product, then this video doesn't carry much weight. To me, it's fascinating. Nostalgic and artful and a little crazy, all at once. I can relate to that.
Hi. I’m Bryan. I’m a writer – it’s the only thing I wanted to do professionally. Writing takes me to some fascinating places and introduces me to fascinating people. It introduced me to Isaac Hayes; it has taken me to high-rises and farmfields. It is a calling, a profession, a mistress, a nemesis, and it is family. It beats you up and raises you up and just when you think it has left you senseless it surprises you and reminds you of your favorite things: food, beer, video games, movies, life. If you’re lucky, it introduces you to the woman you love. And I’m one of the lucky ones.
