I'm not going to discuss the Yankees and Johan Santana at length (I would refer you instead to excellent sites like Peter Abraham's Lower Hudson newsblog, or to the phenomenal River Avenue Blues), but I did have one thought on it that I thought I would be doing the entire blogosphere a disservice if I didn't put it out there.
For the first time with Yankees prospects, I feel like the Yankees are in a better position without the marquee, big-money player. Santana's great, but they should not mortgage their youth movement (not just the great young pitchers, but also sparkplugs like Melky Cabrera) for any player - not even the great Santana.
I'm reminded of the quote with which Vin Scelsa begins his great radio show on WFUV - which he himself took from the music writer David Fricke. It goes like this: "Respect the elders. Embrace the new. Encourage the impractical and improbable, without bias." I want to see the Yankees continue to embrace the new. It might be impractical for the Yankees, given their business model, to go away from the veteran with the track record, but I think it'll be more exciting.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Some things we're thankful for this Thanksgiving...
Here are some things - some are pop culture, others are not - that we're thankful for this Thanksgiving.
- We're thankful that we've taken the time out to watch "It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia," the hands-down funniest show on television (it's on FX). While we're especially partial to Charlie Day's character, the illiterate, glue-huffing, constantly shouting Charlie, there's so much else about this show that's awesome. If you're not watching it, you should be.
- We're thankful for the safe, healthy arrival of a certain newborn little girl.
- We're thankful for another Thanksgiving of listening to "Alice's Restaurant" at noon. And we're appreciative of Alice's spirit, which is absolutely worth emulating.
- We're thankful (and, to be frank, excited) that our brother's working on a book. On the same token, we're excited about a free software program that we recently discovered that may help us get that screenplay we've wanted to write going.
- We're thankful for the "I'm Not There" soundtrack, which is absolutely as awesome sounding as we'd hoped it would.
- We're thankful for Paul Lukas's Uni Watch Blog, which legitimizes our long-standing interest in sports-related minutiae.
- We're thankful that Chuck Norris has embraced his mythology in the name of politics. We're not crazy about the other dude he's working with, but we're grateful to start off this upcoming year of campaign overload with a good laugh.
- Most of all, though, we're thankful for our friends and family, for the things that remain constant in times of flux, and for the simple, elegant things that make things worth doing.
Happy Thanksgiving to all.
- We're thankful that we've taken the time out to watch "It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia," the hands-down funniest show on television (it's on FX). While we're especially partial to Charlie Day's character, the illiterate, glue-huffing, constantly shouting Charlie, there's so much else about this show that's awesome. If you're not watching it, you should be.
- We're thankful for the safe, healthy arrival of a certain newborn little girl.
- We're thankful for another Thanksgiving of listening to "Alice's Restaurant" at noon. And we're appreciative of Alice's spirit, which is absolutely worth emulating.
- We're thankful (and, to be frank, excited) that our brother's working on a book. On the same token, we're excited about a free software program that we recently discovered that may help us get that screenplay we've wanted to write going.
- We're thankful for the "I'm Not There" soundtrack, which is absolutely as awesome sounding as we'd hoped it would.
- We're thankful for Paul Lukas's Uni Watch Blog, which legitimizes our long-standing interest in sports-related minutiae.
- We're thankful that Chuck Norris has embraced his mythology in the name of politics. We're not crazy about the other dude he's working with, but we're grateful to start off this upcoming year of campaign overload with a good laugh.
- Most of all, though, we're thankful for our friends and family, for the things that remain constant in times of flux, and for the simple, elegant things that make things worth doing.
Happy Thanksgiving to all.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Support.
We support our friends in the Writers Guild of America in their ongoing strike.
For more information, please go to UnitedHollywood. Thanks.
For more information, please go to UnitedHollywood. Thanks.
The 100 Greatest Rock Songs Of All Time
This November, wonderful area radio station WEXT-FM has decided to put together a massive list; and oh boy, do I love lists. Their "The 100 Greatest Rock Songs Of All Time" will air on January 1, 2008 and will be compiled exclusively online through listener suggestions.
Naturally, I feel compelled to throw my two cents in. The station is asking for 20 suggestions per listener. I can do that. To add to my challenge, I will choose no more than 2 songs from any one band or act (it would be very easy for me to topload this list with stuff from the Beatles, REM, Bruce Springsteen, and other bands I've loved for years and years), and I will try to keep it to one song per act wherever possible. I'm not going to pick exclusively "rock songs" either - I will pick songs by rock bands, but if their best work doesn't come in a Zeppelin-esque hail of rhythmic thunder, so be it. I'm all about the subtlety. Finally, I'm going to shed this "of all time" moniker - it adds far-unneccessary significance to a list. I'm going to pick my essential 20 rock songs - my favorite 20.
So, here goes:
1. "Born To Run," Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band
2. "Like A Rolling Stone," Bob Dylan
3. "You Can't Always Get What You Want," The Rolling Stones
4. "Here Comes The Sun," The Beatles
5. "Fall On Me," R.E.M.
6. "Beautiful Day," U2
7. "Heroes," David Bowie
8. "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down," The Band
9. "Solsbury Hill," Peter Gabriel
10. "Into The Mystic," Van Morrison
11. "California Stars," Wilco
12. "I Hope That I Don't Fall In Love With You," Tom Waits
13. "Ooh La La," The Faces
14. "Let Down," Radiohead
15. "Radio Radio," Elvis Costello and the Attractions
16. "Landslide," Fleetwood Mac
17. "These Are Days," 10,000 Maniacs
18. "Here Comes Your Man," The Pixies
19. "Wishlist," Pearl Jam
20. "Unsatisfied," The Replacements.
I find that a lot of these placements are arbitrary. That being said, "Born To Run" is most assuredly number one and "Like A Rolling Stone" is most assuredly number two - both are the kind of song where you hear the first second (Max Weinberg's snare roll at the beginning of "Born To Run," and Bobby Gregg's single crack that kicks off "Like A Rolling Stone") and you know - you just do - that you're going for a ride and that hell yeah, you're in capable hands.
Naturally, I feel compelled to throw my two cents in. The station is asking for 20 suggestions per listener. I can do that. To add to my challenge, I will choose no more than 2 songs from any one band or act (it would be very easy for me to topload this list with stuff from the Beatles, REM, Bruce Springsteen, and other bands I've loved for years and years), and I will try to keep it to one song per act wherever possible. I'm not going to pick exclusively "rock songs" either - I will pick songs by rock bands, but if their best work doesn't come in a Zeppelin-esque hail of rhythmic thunder, so be it. I'm all about the subtlety. Finally, I'm going to shed this "of all time" moniker - it adds far-unneccessary significance to a list. I'm going to pick my essential 20 rock songs - my favorite 20.
So, here goes:
1. "Born To Run," Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band
2. "Like A Rolling Stone," Bob Dylan
3. "You Can't Always Get What You Want," The Rolling Stones
4. "Here Comes The Sun," The Beatles
5. "Fall On Me," R.E.M.
6. "Beautiful Day," U2
7. "Heroes," David Bowie
8. "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down," The Band
9. "Solsbury Hill," Peter Gabriel
10. "Into The Mystic," Van Morrison
11. "California Stars," Wilco
12. "I Hope That I Don't Fall In Love With You," Tom Waits
13. "Ooh La La," The Faces
14. "Let Down," Radiohead
15. "Radio Radio," Elvis Costello and the Attractions
16. "Landslide," Fleetwood Mac
17. "These Are Days," 10,000 Maniacs
18. "Here Comes Your Man," The Pixies
19. "Wishlist," Pearl Jam
20. "Unsatisfied," The Replacements.
I find that a lot of these placements are arbitrary. That being said, "Born To Run" is most assuredly number one and "Like A Rolling Stone" is most assuredly number two - both are the kind of song where you hear the first second (Max Weinberg's snare roll at the beginning of "Born To Run," and Bobby Gregg's single crack that kicks off "Like A Rolling Stone") and you know - you just do - that you're going for a ride and that hell yeah, you're in capable hands.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Meandering Thoughts: Live From (Somewhere Else In) New York: It's (Still) Saturday Night
I've always admired the television show "Saturday Night Live." What's not to admire? By design, the show is an inherent work of art: it's live, performance-based television in a way that few others can even come close to mimicking. Sure, "American Idol" is a live show - and features live performances - but there is a vast difference between singing traditional and familiar songs live and what "Saturday Night Live" does, which is perform one-off, generally-topical sketches. Sure, "Mad TV" is a sketch-comedy show - but it's performed in a traditional, taped format that allows for "re-dos" and what I assume is the television equivalent of digitally remastering a live performance for a concert album.
"Saturday Night Live" has brought some tremendous talents to the forefront of our culture - besides the original cast of Not Ready For Primetime Players (Chevy Chase, Gilda Radner, John Belushi, Dan Aykroyd, Garrett Morris, Laraine Newman, and Jane Curtin), many other talents have either gotten their big breaks or honed their craft while doing this show. Bill Murray, Harry Shearer, Al Franken, Eddie Murphy, Joe Piscopo, Julia Louis Dreyfus, Billy Crystal, Christopher Guest, Robert Downey Jr, Jon Lovitz, Dennis Miller, Anthony Michael Hall, Randy Quaid, Dana Carvey, Mike Myers, Jan Hooks, Kevin Nealon, Chris Farley, Adam Sandler, David Spade, Janeane Garofalo, Molly Shannon, Norm MacDonald, David Koechner, and Will Ferrell are among the many folks who have (at one time or another) been in the repertory company of this show.
Creatively, the show goes through its peaks and valleys; when it's on, the show's generally responsible for creating some lasting moments of cultural stability - but when it's not, it's subject to cries of "Saturday Night Dead" and "Saturday Night Live hasn't been funny in years." It's the price the show pays, for better or worse.
Recently, production on the show has halted due to a writer's strike - a strike which we here at bTb adamantly support, we should add. So, the cast of Saturday Night Live did something pretty cool: they got together at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theater* in Manhattan and put on a a live stage version of their show as a benefit for their crew. The reports are trickling in from sources like the New York Times and the Huffington Post (the HuffPo even namechecks longtime friend of bTb Justin Purnell).
The verdict: sounds like a hell of a time. Naturally, I wish I'd been there for it - I'll have to make do with the stories that I'll no doubt hear from my NYC friends. If I hear anything particularly cool, I'll pass it on.
[* By way of full disclosure, I should note that I was a regular performer at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theater from 2001-2003, and have performed there on somewhat sporadic basis since. I am most assuredly biased here - bTb]
"Saturday Night Live" has brought some tremendous talents to the forefront of our culture - besides the original cast of Not Ready For Primetime Players (Chevy Chase, Gilda Radner, John Belushi, Dan Aykroyd, Garrett Morris, Laraine Newman, and Jane Curtin), many other talents have either gotten their big breaks or honed their craft while doing this show. Bill Murray, Harry Shearer, Al Franken, Eddie Murphy, Joe Piscopo, Julia Louis Dreyfus, Billy Crystal, Christopher Guest, Robert Downey Jr, Jon Lovitz, Dennis Miller, Anthony Michael Hall, Randy Quaid, Dana Carvey, Mike Myers, Jan Hooks, Kevin Nealon, Chris Farley, Adam Sandler, David Spade, Janeane Garofalo, Molly Shannon, Norm MacDonald, David Koechner, and Will Ferrell are among the many folks who have (at one time or another) been in the repertory company of this show.
Creatively, the show goes through its peaks and valleys; when it's on, the show's generally responsible for creating some lasting moments of cultural stability - but when it's not, it's subject to cries of "Saturday Night Dead" and "Saturday Night Live hasn't been funny in years." It's the price the show pays, for better or worse.
Recently, production on the show has halted due to a writer's strike - a strike which we here at bTb adamantly support, we should add. So, the cast of Saturday Night Live did something pretty cool: they got together at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theater* in Manhattan and put on a a live stage version of their show as a benefit for their crew. The reports are trickling in from sources like the New York Times and the Huffington Post (the HuffPo even namechecks longtime friend of bTb Justin Purnell).
The verdict: sounds like a hell of a time. Naturally, I wish I'd been there for it - I'll have to make do with the stories that I'll no doubt hear from my NYC friends. If I hear anything particularly cool, I'll pass it on.
[* By way of full disclosure, I should note that I was a regular performer at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theater from 2001-2003, and have performed there on somewhat sporadic basis since. I am most assuredly biased here - bTb]
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
The Playlist: November 2007
It's been a busy month. Hell, it's been a busy week. Since Thursday of last week (5 days ago, for those who are counting), I've been to a family wake, a wedding, visited a newborn in the hospital, spent time with all of my brothers, and accepted a new job that will mean that I am moving back to New York City. Craziness. This has been the soundtrack to this quick and tumbling time.
Wake:
"Find The River," R.E.M.
Wakes are such awkward, strange times. Silent mourning, chairs set up in rows. Well, when I die, I want my wake to have music playing, and chairs arranged so that people can sit and talk to each other. "Find The River" should be played at my funeral, because I can think of no better thought to leave people with than that final verse: "Pick up here and chase the ride, the river empties to the tide, and all of this is coming your way." It's mournful, thoughtful, and yet optimistic.
Wedding:
"Here Comes Your Man," The Pixies
"LoveStoned/I Think That She Knows," Justin Timberlake
My friends Jed and Teresa got married at Battery Gardens, at the southern tip of Manhattan, on Saturday. It was a beautiful ceremony - elegant and poetic, in the best senses of the word. "Here Comes Your Man" was their first dance song; the way it unfolded could have been the last scene of an awesome romance movie, with all couples being invited onto the floor to dance with them. Sheer beauty. As a wildcard, though, I have to mention the aforementioned Timberlake track, which soundtracked a hilarious dance between the bride and one of her gay friends, which was frickin' awesome and hilarious.
Newborn:
"I Believe In Love," The Dixie Chicks
Yesterday, my friends Javen and Justine's newborn, Emma Claire, was born. I got to visit a few hours after her birth, and let me tell you, it was a wonderful feeling. While I'm not related to Emma really, there was definitely that sense of "oh my god, this is amazing" when I held her. What a wonderful feeling. I hope I'm lucky enough to experience it as a father someday.
Brothers:
"The Fairest of the Seasons," Nico
My brothers remind me somewhat of the Tenenbaums from the Wes Anderson movie "The Royal Tenenbaums." It's not that we're failed child prodigies, but rather, it's that the Tenenbaums all had rich, quirky childhoods like my brothers and I. I like to think that while we all have our rough spots, we also have amazing, different presents that we all bring to the table when we're together. It's what makes the end of "The Royal Tenenbaums" so special. This song comes from that moment of resolution.
Job:
"Leaving New York," R.E.M.
As thrilled as I am to have a great opportunity in front of me - and literally, it's the kind of opportunity that I've been waiting on for ages - there's a real and true sadness in what it means, a departure. "Leaving New York, never easy," Michael Stipe sings, "I saw the lights fading out." The lights are fading out on me upstate. "You might have succeeded in changing me, I might have been turned around," he continues. "It's easier to leave than to be left behind."
Well, this is the most personal thing I've written in awhile. It's been that kind of week.
Wake:
"Find The River," R.E.M.
Wakes are such awkward, strange times. Silent mourning, chairs set up in rows. Well, when I die, I want my wake to have music playing, and chairs arranged so that people can sit and talk to each other. "Find The River" should be played at my funeral, because I can think of no better thought to leave people with than that final verse: "Pick up here and chase the ride, the river empties to the tide, and all of this is coming your way." It's mournful, thoughtful, and yet optimistic.
Wedding:
"Here Comes Your Man," The Pixies
"LoveStoned/I Think That She Knows," Justin Timberlake
My friends Jed and Teresa got married at Battery Gardens, at the southern tip of Manhattan, on Saturday. It was a beautiful ceremony - elegant and poetic, in the best senses of the word. "Here Comes Your Man" was their first dance song; the way it unfolded could have been the last scene of an awesome romance movie, with all couples being invited onto the floor to dance with them. Sheer beauty. As a wildcard, though, I have to mention the aforementioned Timberlake track, which soundtracked a hilarious dance between the bride and one of her gay friends, which was frickin' awesome and hilarious.
Newborn:
"I Believe In Love," The Dixie Chicks
Yesterday, my friends Javen and Justine's newborn, Emma Claire, was born. I got to visit a few hours after her birth, and let me tell you, it was a wonderful feeling. While I'm not related to Emma really, there was definitely that sense of "oh my god, this is amazing" when I held her. What a wonderful feeling. I hope I'm lucky enough to experience it as a father someday.
Brothers:
"The Fairest of the Seasons," Nico
My brothers remind me somewhat of the Tenenbaums from the Wes Anderson movie "The Royal Tenenbaums." It's not that we're failed child prodigies, but rather, it's that the Tenenbaums all had rich, quirky childhoods like my brothers and I. I like to think that while we all have our rough spots, we also have amazing, different presents that we all bring to the table when we're together. It's what makes the end of "The Royal Tenenbaums" so special. This song comes from that moment of resolution.
Job:
"Leaving New York," R.E.M.
As thrilled as I am to have a great opportunity in front of me - and literally, it's the kind of opportunity that I've been waiting on for ages - there's a real and true sadness in what it means, a departure. "Leaving New York, never easy," Michael Stipe sings, "I saw the lights fading out." The lights are fading out on me upstate. "You might have succeeded in changing me, I might have been turned around," he continues. "It's easier to leave than to be left behind."
Well, this is the most personal thing I've written in awhile. It's been that kind of week.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Meandering Thoughts: On "Cool"
In his most recent column in "Entertainment Weekly," horrormaster Stephen King has attempted to take on one of the greatest cultural divides of our time: the difference between what's cool and what's not cool.
"The meaning of cool," King says, "is beyond definition (and) beyond modification." This is irrefutable. I would posit that, from a writerly perspective, once you attempt to define what "cool" is, you immediately lose all credibility. You can always give examples of what you perceive "cool" to be, but once you try to create a structure for "cool" and "coolness," you're done.
In this article, King doesn't attempt to create this structure - rather, he gives some examples of what's cool (among others, he cites John Fogerty's new album, Barack Obama, "Prison Break," Elmore Leonard, and Fred Rogers) and what's not cool (among the cited: George Clooney in "Michael Collins," Hillary Clinton, Patricia Cornwell, and "Friday Night Lights"). He's quick to point out that being uncool is not necessarily a terrible stigma (for example, he thinks that "Friday Night Lights" is an excellent show - it just will never have the cache/sexiness of a lesser-caliber show like "Prison Break").
These are all valid points. Then, however, King blows all credibility whatsoever by insisting that he's cool, saying "Remember, cool is not a way of life; it's a state of being. Like your height. I can't help being 6'3", and I can't help being cool. Same way Michael Crichton can't help being 6'9''...and not cool." (King, for the record, looks like this. I'm just saying, is all.)
Anyway. A golden rule of "cool," if such a thing exists, is that you cannot insist overtly on your own coolness. It just can't be done. If you have to tell people that you're cool - and King most certainly does here - you're absolutely not cool, and the other things which you've pronounced to be "cool" are tarnished in turn.
Stephen King is uncool. He's written some cool books, sure, but he's also responsible for sap like "The Green Mile" and a good number of subpar books as well. Beyond his picture (above), I also refer you to the fact that he plays in a rock band called The Rock Bottom Remainders - which would be cool if it weren't an all-author band. You see, authors aren't cool, pretty much ever - however, their books may or may not be. "Misery" is cool. Playing the guitar on an atrocious version of "Wild Thing" alongside Amy Tan? Uncool, about ten million times over.
Keep in mind, I don't think of myself as being cool at all. Lord knows, I've tried to be cool - the trying, though, immediately made me uncool, which is a stigma I've carried with me ever since.
When it all comes down to brass tacks, I think of the words of the late Kurt Cobain, who sang, "I'd rather be dead than cool." That seems completely reasonable. I mean, I don't want to be dead. So, I want to be cool even less.
Of course, that's contingent upon words of wisdom coming from Kurt Cobain, who's both dead and cool (go figure).
"The meaning of cool," King says, "is beyond definition (and) beyond modification." This is irrefutable. I would posit that, from a writerly perspective, once you attempt to define what "cool" is, you immediately lose all credibility. You can always give examples of what you perceive "cool" to be, but once you try to create a structure for "cool" and "coolness," you're done.
In this article, King doesn't attempt to create this structure - rather, he gives some examples of what's cool (among others, he cites John Fogerty's new album, Barack Obama, "Prison Break," Elmore Leonard, and Fred Rogers) and what's not cool (among the cited: George Clooney in "Michael Collins," Hillary Clinton, Patricia Cornwell, and "Friday Night Lights"). He's quick to point out that being uncool is not necessarily a terrible stigma (for example, he thinks that "Friday Night Lights" is an excellent show - it just will never have the cache/sexiness of a lesser-caliber show like "Prison Break").
These are all valid points. Then, however, King blows all credibility whatsoever by insisting that he's cool, saying "Remember, cool is not a way of life; it's a state of being. Like your height. I can't help being 6'3", and I can't help being cool. Same way Michael Crichton can't help being 6'9''...and not cool." (King, for the record, looks like this. I'm just saying, is all.)
Anyway. A golden rule of "cool," if such a thing exists, is that you cannot insist overtly on your own coolness. It just can't be done. If you have to tell people that you're cool - and King most certainly does here - you're absolutely not cool, and the other things which you've pronounced to be "cool" are tarnished in turn.
Stephen King is uncool. He's written some cool books, sure, but he's also responsible for sap like "The Green Mile" and a good number of subpar books as well. Beyond his picture (above), I also refer you to the fact that he plays in a rock band called The Rock Bottom Remainders - which would be cool if it weren't an all-author band. You see, authors aren't cool, pretty much ever - however, their books may or may not be. "Misery" is cool. Playing the guitar on an atrocious version of "Wild Thing" alongside Amy Tan? Uncool, about ten million times over.
Keep in mind, I don't think of myself as being cool at all. Lord knows, I've tried to be cool - the trying, though, immediately made me uncool, which is a stigma I've carried with me ever since.
When it all comes down to brass tacks, I think of the words of the late Kurt Cobain, who sang, "I'd rather be dead than cool." That seems completely reasonable. I mean, I don't want to be dead. So, I want to be cool even less.
Of course, that's contingent upon words of wisdom coming from Kurt Cobain, who's both dead and cool (go figure).
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
The Woody Allen Question
Towards the end of Woody Allen’s “Manhattan,” Woody’s character Isaac Davis is asked what makes life worth living. In typical Woody fashion, he hems and haws and then says the following:
“Why is life worth living? It's a very good question. Um... Well, There are certain things I guess that make it worthwhile. uh... Like what... okay... um... For me, uh... ooh... I would say... what, Groucho Marx, to name one thing... uh... um... and Wilie Mays... and um... the 2nd movement of the Jupiter Symphony... and um... Louis Armstrong, recording of Potato Head Blues... um... Swedish movies, naturally... Sentimental Education by Flaubert... uh... Marlon Brando, Frank Sinatra... um... those incredible Apples and Pears by Cezanne... uh... the crabs at Sam Wo's... uh... Tracy's face...”
Every now and then, I ask myself that question – to think about what are the things that are sustaining me through my second-to-second existence.
In August 2005, on an old journal on the Improv Resource Center, my answer was the following: “A long conversation over a few drinks with a good friend. A hug from my mom. A postcard from my dad. An obscene voicemail from my brother, overseas in the military. The first few weeks of September, when summer fades and the trees up here change color and the school year begins. Pad thai. The Sunday comics. Flip-flop sandals. A long walk with my I-Pod on shuffle. The squeal and laugh from my godson when I pick him up and hang him upside-down. Love, in all its forms, shapes, and seasons.” In December 2002, my answer was a tad less precious and more focused on more-temporary things: “Sitting on the Hudson River side of a passenger train between NYC and upstate. A cup of coffee late at night when you really, really need one. The last three songs of "Automatic For The People." Doonesbury collections from the 1970s. Stepping into the water at Waimea Bay, Oahu. Driving alone and singing, loud and out-of-tune. The feeling you get when you're onstage.”
It’s been a couple of years since I’ve thought about this question. I blanche a little bit when I look at my past answers – in 2002, I was probably trying to be too pop-culture savvy, and in 2005, I was extremely sentimental to the point of overtly romanticizing things, I think.
So, hmm, without being too much of either of those things, why is life worth living? Right now?
It’s about the little things for me – the lunch, dinner, drink with a friend and the opportunity to play catch up. It’s allowing myself to be surprised by something, whether it’s a new aspect of a story from an old friend or family member or something silly like a cannon that shoots pumpkins into the horizon. It’s very much all of those other things, too, all of which mean a lot to me and always will.
But it’s also a really good Belgian Farmhouse Ale. Anytime a TV show or movie makes me laugh out loud. The opening notes of the Band’s “Chest Fever.” A soy chai latte with sugar-free hazelnut syrup. Weddings. Babies. Calvin and Hobbes. A glass of chilled white wine, preferably a Riesling or a Gewurtztraminer. The Staten Island Ferry. The Hudson and Mohawk Valleys when the leaves change color. Elton John’s song “Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters.” The movie “The Princess Bride,” every time. Third kisses, much more than the first. Sunday mornings. Sleeping in with someone else. Subway or commuter trains, in any city, when you have the time to enjoy the ride. Tom Waits’s “Closing Time” album. Bronx pizza.
So, those of you still reading: what’s your answer to the Woody Allen Question – what are the things that make life worth living?
Please respond, either in the comments or on your own blog. I’d love to know what you think.
“Why is life worth living? It's a very good question. Um... Well, There are certain things I guess that make it worthwhile. uh... Like what... okay... um... For me, uh... ooh... I would say... what, Groucho Marx, to name one thing... uh... um... and Wilie Mays... and um... the 2nd movement of the Jupiter Symphony... and um... Louis Armstrong, recording of Potato Head Blues... um... Swedish movies, naturally... Sentimental Education by Flaubert... uh... Marlon Brando, Frank Sinatra... um... those incredible Apples and Pears by Cezanne... uh... the crabs at Sam Wo's... uh... Tracy's face...”
Every now and then, I ask myself that question – to think about what are the things that are sustaining me through my second-to-second existence.
In August 2005, on an old journal on the Improv Resource Center, my answer was the following: “A long conversation over a few drinks with a good friend. A hug from my mom. A postcard from my dad. An obscene voicemail from my brother, overseas in the military. The first few weeks of September, when summer fades and the trees up here change color and the school year begins. Pad thai. The Sunday comics. Flip-flop sandals. A long walk with my I-Pod on shuffle. The squeal and laugh from my godson when I pick him up and hang him upside-down. Love, in all its forms, shapes, and seasons.” In December 2002, my answer was a tad less precious and more focused on more-temporary things: “Sitting on the Hudson River side of a passenger train between NYC and upstate. A cup of coffee late at night when you really, really need one. The last three songs of "Automatic For The People." Doonesbury collections from the 1970s. Stepping into the water at Waimea Bay, Oahu. Driving alone and singing, loud and out-of-tune. The feeling you get when you're onstage.”
It’s been a couple of years since I’ve thought about this question. I blanche a little bit when I look at my past answers – in 2002, I was probably trying to be too pop-culture savvy, and in 2005, I was extremely sentimental to the point of overtly romanticizing things, I think.
So, hmm, without being too much of either of those things, why is life worth living? Right now?
It’s about the little things for me – the lunch, dinner, drink with a friend and the opportunity to play catch up. It’s allowing myself to be surprised by something, whether it’s a new aspect of a story from an old friend or family member or something silly like a cannon that shoots pumpkins into the horizon. It’s very much all of those other things, too, all of which mean a lot to me and always will.
But it’s also a really good Belgian Farmhouse Ale. Anytime a TV show or movie makes me laugh out loud. The opening notes of the Band’s “Chest Fever.” A soy chai latte with sugar-free hazelnut syrup. Weddings. Babies. Calvin and Hobbes. A glass of chilled white wine, preferably a Riesling or a Gewurtztraminer. The Staten Island Ferry. The Hudson and Mohawk Valleys when the leaves change color. Elton John’s song “Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters.” The movie “The Princess Bride,” every time. Third kisses, much more than the first. Sunday mornings. Sleeping in with someone else. Subway or commuter trains, in any city, when you have the time to enjoy the ride. Tom Waits’s “Closing Time” album. Bronx pizza.
So, those of you still reading: what’s your answer to the Woody Allen Question – what are the things that make life worth living?
Please respond, either in the comments or on your own blog. I’d love to know what you think.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
How I'd Fix The Yankees
Well, the 2007 baseball season has been over for more than a week now (by the way, congratulations to the 2007 World Champion Boston Red Sox; as for you, Boston sports fans, the moratorium on “woe are we” talk begins now and, should you remain championship-less for the indefinite future, ends somewhere around 2025). I already miss baseball.
That being said, I’ve always loved the machinations of the baseball offseason. As much as I love baseball and watching the games, I’d almost want to be a fly on the wall of the Annual Meetings as a viewer at a postseason game. When I was a kid, I used to play “general manager” by myself and try to fix the wrongs of the late 1980s-early 1990s New York Yankees.
Now, I’m old. Some of my interest in being a general manager has been quelled through playing fantasy baseball, which I’ve done on and off since my junior year of high school. That being said, I love this time of the year – the so-called “Hot Stove League,” where baseball executives whittle through the winter months in an attempt to better their teams.
As a Yankees fan, this offseason’s already been a hectic one. There’s been a switch at the helm; exit Joe Torre, enter Joe Girardi. The coaching staff has also been overhauled [Ron Guidry and Joe Kerrigan are out, Don Mattingly and Larry Bowa are California-bound; meanwhile, Mike Harkey, Dave Eiland, Rob Thomson, and Bobby Meacham assume coaching duties]. Alex Rodriguez seems definitively gone from third base, and Jorge Posada, Mariano Rivera, and Andy Pettite’s futures all hover with uncertainty.
So, I’m going to do what I used to do so often in my childhood. I’m going to reshape the Yankees. Here now is what I would try to do if I were the general manager of the Yankees. I’ve tried to make all trades relatively reasonable (that is, to say, somewhat feasible and reasonable – there will be no trades of all-stars for single minor league players, and no salary dumps without rational decision-making behind it).
First trade: I would offer the San Francisco Giants a package of OF Hideki Matsui and SP Chase Wright for Noah Lowry. San Francisco would benefit from having someone as unflappable as Matsui take over Barry Bonds’s left field position, and Wright is a decent lefty who could start or relieve in the big leagues. The Yankees were a better team last year with Melky Cabrera and Johnny Damon in the outfield. Lowry is a good lefty starter, and would capably fill a #3 or #4 spot in a Yankees rotation, striking that balance of youth with experience.
Second trade: I would offer the Florida Marlins the following package for 3B Miguel Cabrera: SP Darrell Rasner, SP Matt DeSalvo, SS Alberto Gonzalez, and 3B Eric Duncan. The Marlins would get DeSalvo, who will be a starter, and Rasner, who could swing between the rotation and the bullpen, as well as AAA starters Duncan and Gonzalez. This deal would need to be contingent upon a contract extension for Cabrera.
Third trade: I would offer the Texas Rangers RP Kyle Farnsworth for OF Marlon Byrd. The Yankees would need to pick up some of Farnsworth’s salary, and Byrd would be a far better fourth outfielder than the other options.
Fourth: I would absolutely, completely resign Posada, Rivera, 1B Doug Mientkiewicz, P Luis Vizcaino and C Jose Molina. In free agency, I would also attempt to sign RP Francisco Cordero.
My 2008 Yankees team would look thusly:
Starting Lineup:
LF Johnny Damon
SS Derek Jeter
RF Bobby Abreu
3B Miguel Cabrera
C Jorge Posada
2B Robinson Cano
DH Jason Giambi
1B Doug Mientkiewicz
CF Melky Cabrera
Bench:
C Jose Molina
IF Andy Phillips
IF Wilson Betemit
OF Marlon Byrd
Rotation:
Chien Ming Wang
Noah Lowry
Joba Chamberlain
Phil Hughes
Mike Mussina
Bullpen:
Mariano Rivera
Francisco Cordero
Ross Ohlendorf
Jose Veras
Ron Villone
Jose Vizcaino
I would have Ian Kennedy and Humberto Sanchez begin the season in AAA, but they’d be the first pitchers up to fill spots. I’m just going to assume that Carl Pavano would spend the entire season on the disabled list. As much as I love Shelley Duncan, I think he’d start the year in the minors as well.
That being said, I’ve always loved the machinations of the baseball offseason. As much as I love baseball and watching the games, I’d almost want to be a fly on the wall of the Annual Meetings as a viewer at a postseason game. When I was a kid, I used to play “general manager” by myself and try to fix the wrongs of the late 1980s-early 1990s New York Yankees.
Now, I’m old. Some of my interest in being a general manager has been quelled through playing fantasy baseball, which I’ve done on and off since my junior year of high school. That being said, I love this time of the year – the so-called “Hot Stove League,” where baseball executives whittle through the winter months in an attempt to better their teams.
As a Yankees fan, this offseason’s already been a hectic one. There’s been a switch at the helm; exit Joe Torre, enter Joe Girardi. The coaching staff has also been overhauled [Ron Guidry and Joe Kerrigan are out, Don Mattingly and Larry Bowa are California-bound; meanwhile, Mike Harkey, Dave Eiland, Rob Thomson, and Bobby Meacham assume coaching duties]. Alex Rodriguez seems definitively gone from third base, and Jorge Posada, Mariano Rivera, and Andy Pettite’s futures all hover with uncertainty.
So, I’m going to do what I used to do so often in my childhood. I’m going to reshape the Yankees. Here now is what I would try to do if I were the general manager of the Yankees. I’ve tried to make all trades relatively reasonable (that is, to say, somewhat feasible and reasonable – there will be no trades of all-stars for single minor league players, and no salary dumps without rational decision-making behind it).
First trade: I would offer the San Francisco Giants a package of OF Hideki Matsui and SP Chase Wright for Noah Lowry. San Francisco would benefit from having someone as unflappable as Matsui take over Barry Bonds’s left field position, and Wright is a decent lefty who could start or relieve in the big leagues. The Yankees were a better team last year with Melky Cabrera and Johnny Damon in the outfield. Lowry is a good lefty starter, and would capably fill a #3 or #4 spot in a Yankees rotation, striking that balance of youth with experience.
Second trade: I would offer the Florida Marlins the following package for 3B Miguel Cabrera: SP Darrell Rasner, SP Matt DeSalvo, SS Alberto Gonzalez, and 3B Eric Duncan. The Marlins would get DeSalvo, who will be a starter, and Rasner, who could swing between the rotation and the bullpen, as well as AAA starters Duncan and Gonzalez. This deal would need to be contingent upon a contract extension for Cabrera.
Third trade: I would offer the Texas Rangers RP Kyle Farnsworth for OF Marlon Byrd. The Yankees would need to pick up some of Farnsworth’s salary, and Byrd would be a far better fourth outfielder than the other options.
Fourth: I would absolutely, completely resign Posada, Rivera, 1B Doug Mientkiewicz, P Luis Vizcaino and C Jose Molina. In free agency, I would also attempt to sign RP Francisco Cordero.
My 2008 Yankees team would look thusly:
Starting Lineup:
LF Johnny Damon
SS Derek Jeter
RF Bobby Abreu
3B Miguel Cabrera
C Jorge Posada
2B Robinson Cano
DH Jason Giambi
1B Doug Mientkiewicz
CF Melky Cabrera
Bench:
C Jose Molina
IF Andy Phillips
IF Wilson Betemit
OF Marlon Byrd
Rotation:
Chien Ming Wang
Noah Lowry
Joba Chamberlain
Phil Hughes
Mike Mussina
Bullpen:
Mariano Rivera
Francisco Cordero
Ross Ohlendorf
Jose Veras
Ron Villone
Jose Vizcaino
I would have Ian Kennedy and Humberto Sanchez begin the season in AAA, but they’d be the first pitchers up to fill spots. I’m just going to assume that Carl Pavano would spend the entire season on the disabled list. As much as I love Shelley Duncan, I think he’d start the year in the minors as well.
Friday, November 2, 2007
Meandering Thoughts: Musical Moments
I've been thinking a lot about music lately. Over at Beerjanglin, I just wrote a piece that focuses on the combination of beer and music; meanwhile, my friend (and new blogger) Bobbo wrote a great piece that talked about a monumental concert event I attended last weekend at a farmstand outside Kingston, New York. (I'd talk more about the farmstand concert - which featured the legendary Levon Helm and was absolutely goosebump-inducing - but I instead invite you to read Bobbo's version of it instead - he did a great job of encapsulating a great musical moment).
Anyway, I wanted to talk about another musical moment that happened recently. Have you ever had a moment where you listened to a song and it absolutely captured the moment to the point where it felt like narration? I had one of those moments the other day.
I took myself a long weekend; I spent a whirlwind of a time in New York City, where I caught up with some old friends and had a lot of meetings that, without being too revealing, portend a great amount about my future (both immediate and distant). Anyway, at the end of this weekend, I ventured my sedan back towards Albany, and spent a couple of hours of my Tuesday evening on a dark, eerily quiet Taconic Parkway traveling north. I'd packed some CDs that I hadn't listened to in awhile for the trip; I decided to listen to Bruce Springsteen's "Tunnel Of Love" album for this leg of the journey.
As I neared the Austerlitz-Chatham exit (the final one on this stretch of road), the final track of this album came on - a haunting, melancholy ballad came on. Here, now, are some snippets of Springsteen's lyrics with explanation.
I'm driving a big lazy car rushin' up the highway in the dark
I got one hand steady on the wheel and one hand's tremblin' over my heart
It's pounding baby like it's gonna bust right on through
And it ain't gonna stop till I'm alone again with you
I, too, was driving a big lazy car and I was hurtling up a darkened highway. That alone made my eyes open wide. While I can't say that I was thinking about being alone with somebody per se, I was definitely thinking about a lot of things - my future, mostly... And yes, I drive with one hand steady on the wheel. I know we're not talking about mindblowing stuff here, but it certainly resonated.
Springsteen continued:
A friend of mine became a father last night
When we spoke in his voice I could hear the light
Of the skies and the rivers the timberwolf in the pines
And that great jukebox out on Route 39
They say he travels fastest who travels alone
But tonight I miss my girl mister tonight I miss my home
Here's where the connections got more personal. While a friend of mine didn't become a father last night, one of my closest friends in the world is on "any day now" status for fatherhood. Which is weird and different. I find myself wondering not whether fatherhood will change him, but rather, how much it will. It's weird and different and not really something I've taken the time to attend to in a friendship. And that part about missing my girl and missing my home - well, that part'll get me for awhile. I'm not in a relationship right now, and I don't miss my ex-girlfriend, but there's something about being in a relationship that I miss dreadfully, that made me feel somewhat closer to complete. I miss that all the time. And part and parcel with the weekend was that sense of home - so much doubt and change.
I could go on, but to be honest, my story would diverge even further from Springsteen's in the song. That being said - I love it when I can make a connection with a song, even if it's a painful, philosophical one.
Anyone had anything similar ever happen?
Anyway, I wanted to talk about another musical moment that happened recently. Have you ever had a moment where you listened to a song and it absolutely captured the moment to the point where it felt like narration? I had one of those moments the other day.
I took myself a long weekend; I spent a whirlwind of a time in New York City, where I caught up with some old friends and had a lot of meetings that, without being too revealing, portend a great amount about my future (both immediate and distant). Anyway, at the end of this weekend, I ventured my sedan back towards Albany, and spent a couple of hours of my Tuesday evening on a dark, eerily quiet Taconic Parkway traveling north. I'd packed some CDs that I hadn't listened to in awhile for the trip; I decided to listen to Bruce Springsteen's "Tunnel Of Love" album for this leg of the journey.
As I neared the Austerlitz-Chatham exit (the final one on this stretch of road), the final track of this album came on - a haunting, melancholy ballad came on. Here, now, are some snippets of Springsteen's lyrics with explanation.
I'm driving a big lazy car rushin' up the highway in the dark
I got one hand steady on the wheel and one hand's tremblin' over my heart
It's pounding baby like it's gonna bust right on through
And it ain't gonna stop till I'm alone again with you
I, too, was driving a big lazy car and I was hurtling up a darkened highway. That alone made my eyes open wide. While I can't say that I was thinking about being alone with somebody per se, I was definitely thinking about a lot of things - my future, mostly... And yes, I drive with one hand steady on the wheel. I know we're not talking about mindblowing stuff here, but it certainly resonated.
Springsteen continued:
A friend of mine became a father last night
When we spoke in his voice I could hear the light
Of the skies and the rivers the timberwolf in the pines
And that great jukebox out on Route 39
They say he travels fastest who travels alone
But tonight I miss my girl mister tonight I miss my home
Here's where the connections got more personal. While a friend of mine didn't become a father last night, one of my closest friends in the world is on "any day now" status for fatherhood. Which is weird and different. I find myself wondering not whether fatherhood will change him, but rather, how much it will. It's weird and different and not really something I've taken the time to attend to in a friendship. And that part about missing my girl and missing my home - well, that part'll get me for awhile. I'm not in a relationship right now, and I don't miss my ex-girlfriend, but there's something about being in a relationship that I miss dreadfully, that made me feel somewhat closer to complete. I miss that all the time. And part and parcel with the weekend was that sense of home - so much doubt and change.
I could go on, but to be honest, my story would diverge even further from Springsteen's in the song. That being said - I love it when I can make a connection with a song, even if it's a painful, philosophical one.
Anyone had anything similar ever happen?
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