hide and seek

Happy Friday-minus-one my fellow internet lurkers.  I talk music and politics today, although I think I weave the taboo topics in smartly enough that you’ll enjoy the narrative wrapped around them.  So, give it a try, wouldja?  Thanks.

I’m happy to share that I seem to be on the mend from my brief battle with a hit-and-run stomach sickness earlier this week.  And, even if it did force the cancellation of a long-planned trip to Oregon for some important (no, seriously, I missed something important) work-business and some even more-important family-business, I’m glad to share that I am once again comfortable enough to willfully pass gas without first heading to the bathroom.

Being at home today, and feeling much better than yesterday (and worlds better than Monday), I had some idle time on my hands.  I decided to try something I’ve been considering for a long time: Importing all my music into iTunes so that I can actually sync my Apple devices (iPod and iPhone) as they are designed.  So, I undertook that Herculean effort.  And, I’ll stop talking about it here now because I’ve broken off the detailed tech-heavy explanation into it’s very own blog entry you can read below (unless you’re an uber-nerd though, I don’t really recommend it).

Guys, guys, guys.  There are only a few unsolved musical mysteries left for me to ponder.  And, tonight, I totally solved one of the longest-running ones.  While I was sitting here typing, my iPod happened to shuffle up a live performance by Van Morrison (hey, it’s a 1-in-42,000 shot, them’s some odds!).  Now, this isn’t just any live performance, this is an incredible, amazing, vibrantly “alive” live vetting of Van’s “Summertime In England.  And, it’s a recording that I’ve been obsessed with for years.  Let’s tell the story, shall we?

Back in middle and high school, my best buddy Kyle was my musical sage, muse, encyclopedia, and conduit.  For a time, I got everything through Kyle, who himself got it all from his father by way of dubbed cassette tapes in the mail.  In a previous longwinded entry, I wrote about my “Kyle connection” thusly:

When I met Kyle after we moved to Florida, things exploded. With the influence his dad had on his extremely-mature-for-his-age and varied musical tastes, and the mainline connection to his dad’s collection in Texas (via dubbed cassettes again, but of course), my horde of lovingly hand-labeled 90min Maxells flourished.

Ahh… still as delicate a prose as the day I penned it, and just as accurate too.

Anyway, one of those recordings scored via a dubbed cassette from Kyle’s dad was a live version of a Van Morrison song before then unknown to me.  All I knew was that when I put on that tape and listened to that eleven minute orgy of musical and lyrical genius, I was transported.  Smiles creased my face unbidden, and the tune seemed to mate perfectly with the Fall weather of the season in which I first heard it. I was smitten from the moment I heard it, not even knowing the name of the tune.

I can remember vividly driving to Sharaun’s house early one Saturday morning in my little Red Nissan (perhaps it was still my parents’ litte Red Nissan at the time, actually).  I had the windows down and the cool Florida air (a welcome rarity for the few months we get it) streamed in as I listened to the tape.  The saxophones swelled as I crossed US-1 towards the river.  I remember we were headed to a pancake breakfast at McDonalds, I think to raise money for her soccer, or volleyball, or maybe it was softball team (Sharaun is the jock in our family).

The point being, that song was indelibly inked into my mind in that moment.

Somewhere along the road, as things transitioned from tape to CD, I put that well-worn cassette away.  And, eventually, somewhere in my college-years moves from apartment to apartment, I lost it altogether.  I never forgot that song though…

Several years later, after marrying Sharaun and moving to California, I decided I wanted to hear that song again.  Over the years, I’d done a fair job collecting a bunch of bootlegs – and I’d always been keen to pick up a new illicit Van Morrison recording in hopes my fabled song would be included.  Although I never did find the song, I had long before been able to identify the name of the track as “Summertime in England.”  Unfortunately, the song is a staple of many live Van performances – and trying to find a particular version based on vague memories of between-band banter just wasn’t that easy.

Believe me, I tried.  I e-mailed die-heard Van collectors every detail of the show I could recall.  I mentioned that he thanked the members of the band by name, and that he did this echoed lyrical interplay with another vocalist during the performance, where one guy copied the other guy almost at the same instant he sung his line.  They did the same thing with the guitar, I noted.  Not a bad level of detail from a then musty memory, but I had zero luck in locating the actual performance I was after.  Don’t get me wrong, I did manage to acquire ten or so other fantastic live versions of the song which kind collectors guessed might be the one I was after… but no paydirt despite my hunt.

Then, finally, out of frustration, I decided to cut to the chase.  Sometime in 2004 or so I decided to e-mail Kyle’s dad directly and just ask him about the performance.  I wondered, in my e-mail, if he recalled where in the world he got the tape… or did he even know what performance I was referring to?  I figured going to the source was my best option.  Turns out Kyle’s dad knew instantly exactly which song I was referring to (of course he would, he’s the same as me in that way).  However, he said he “thought” he recalled dubbing his cassette off an old VHS he’d recorded from a television broadcast, but could remember nothing more than that.

He did, however, still have that dub and promptly offered to send me a CD-R copy.  I supplied my address, the CD came, I thanked him profusely and dutifully ripped the now legendary-to-me performance onto my iPod… which brings us back full-circle to it being shuffled up tonight.

As my face beamed listening to the song again, I began wondering about typing some exact phrases from the band banter into Google… just fishing.  Turns out I got a single hit on the phrase “Mr. Morrison” “Mr. Hospitality.”  It led me to a message board where it mentioned a “Beacon ’89” show.  A few Google searches later and I’d landed on a YouTube clip of Van Morrison and his band playing “Summertime In England” live at the Beacon Thearer in New York City in November 1989 (too bad it’s clipped at the beginning).  And, wouldn’t you know it… it was the song.  That’s right, the version I’d been looking for forever (and, I suppose, had actually “found” a few years back – although still not fully knowing all the background).

And, with a little more digging I’d turned up the fact that a two-disc soundboard quality bootleg of the show exists under the title Inspired Evenings.  Minutes after that, that very bootleg was streaming it’s way, via a series of bits and bytes, onto my hard drive – from the very nether regions of the internet.  And now it’s done, one great mystery solved.  Next – the unidentifiable mixtape of 1992… I swear I’m gonna crack that case one day… I just know it.

OK, end music stuff.

Before I go, I wanted to remind everyone (even if you voted in a recent primary) to go ahead and double-check your registered voter status.  With deadlines looming in nearly every state, it’s in your best interest to confirm your registered status so you have no surprises at your polling place come November.  And yes, I mean this regardless of whom you intend to vote for 🙂

To check your status in your state, use the this handy website (quite a few states have quick and painless online status checking).  Happy democracying!

G’nite.

change of plans

I should be in Oregon right now, gallivanting around under the pretense of “work” at the big manager summit at the mountain lodge resort.  But, I’m not.

‘Round about 3pm yesterday my stomach began knotting, and soon I was leaving my desk to head for the restroom.  And then again; and then again.  By the time I was home, lying prone in bed was the only effective way to stave off the nausea.  It worked, but only for a time.  The remainder of the night was awful.

Around midnight, my head in my hands in a then familiar posture as I sat on the throne, I mentally called off the trip.  After shuffling back to bed, I grabbed the iPhone from the windowsill and poked out an e-mail to my boss saying I was not going.  I called Southwest around 5am and canceled my flight, and later in the day called my Mom and broke the bad news that we’d not be there for the weekend.  She was bummed, but seemed to understand.

I feel a mite better now that the day has progressed.  Sharaun had volleyball tonight so I agreed to get out of bed for an hour and watch some Backyardigans with Keaton.  It’s OK, we’re watching “A Giant Problem,” which is my absolute favorite episode, because of the super-catchy 80s-themed soundtrack (well, right behind “Tale of the Mighty Knights,” which is a full-length prog-rock opera).  No, seriously folks, I’ve written about my appreciation for the music on this show before… I can seriously watch and enjoy them.

OK folks, I’m sleepy again.  Goodnight.

it’s cool y’all

‘Round 9pm and Sharaun’s out (more on that later).  I’m listening to the iPod on shuffle, just switched from some late 50s free-jazz to Radiohead’s “Stop Whispering” to James Brown live at the Apollo.  I love shuffle.

Just another Friday here in America.  You know, no closure on our government’s taxpayer-backed $700B Wall Street bailout; the largest bank seizure ever with Washington Mutual being commandeered by the FDIC before it can crumble on it’s own, then later sold piecemeal to JP Morgan; even China won’t lend us money anymore

It’s cool y’all.  Don’t worry.  Oh!  Did you see the new Real Rules Road World challenge!?  I totally almost choked on my Grilled Stuffed Chalupa when that one gay dude was making out with that inflatable sex doll in Vatican Square!  It was, like, so hilarious, I had to put down my People magazine and full-on got Fire Sauce all over the picture of Brad Pitt’s newest and blackest baby.

What a mess; what a mess.

We can get past this.  Let’s write…

At work, I usually run the MSN instant messaging client in the background on my laptop.  We have our own internal-only sawmill IM client, but I use the MSN one to talk to people outside of work.  Typically this is limited to Sharaun, and maybe on or two other friends who don’t happen to work at the same sawmill or live in the same state/country as me.  It’s useful for quick communication with Sharaun though, particularly if I’m tied up in a meeting – as I can type out a quick answer to things like, “Hey, can you pick up some milk on the way home?” and the like.

Sometimes though, IM just doesn’t cut it.  That delay between reading and writing can really gum up the gears of a conversation.  Take, for example, this exchange between Sharaun and I this morning.  She was at home, presumably eating bon-bons and doing her toenails, and I was at work, winning bread or some such.  Marvel:

sharaun says:
oh
tonight
you know color me mine
that pottery painting place by the bounce place

dave knows all your secrets says:
i don’t really know it, why?

sharaun says:
I wanted to go if that was ok with you

Straight-forward enough.  At this point, I think I understand what’s going.  There’s some paint-your-own pottery place around here (apparently next to the bounce place we sometimes take Keaton) and she wants to go.  I’m not sure, however if she’s asking if I want to go with her, or if she’s asking if she can go with a friend (meaning she’s actually asking me if I’m OK with Keaton for the evening).   So, I proceed to inquire down this path:

dave knows all your secrets says:
are you asking me to go?

sharaun says:
yes
that’s what “I wanted to go if that was ok with you” means

OK, makes sense now.  She’s asking if we all want to go, as a family, to the paint-your-own pottery place over by the bouncy place we sometimes take Keaton.  Glad I asked.  At this point, I’m already typing up the explanation of why I misunderstood her the first time.  See, I want to explain that I was just unsure if she was asking me to go, or asking if she could go with a friend.  But, right before I hit send on that message, she replies again:

sharaun says:
anyway, there is a MOPS moms night out there tonight at 6:30

And, seconds later, I hit “enter” on the sentence I’d been typing”

dave knows all your secrets says:
i thought you might be asking if it’s OK if you go w/liz and spend money or something.  when?
you want to go tonight?

On her end, confusion blooms:

sharaun says:
I said 6:30
MOPS
not Liz
are you reading what I type at all?

Man, I hate it when this happens.  Now we’re exactly one thought out of sync.  I try to type a little faster and make my seemingly misplaced explanation a little more clear:

dave knows all your secrets says:
when you asked me if it was OK, i didn’t know if you were asking me to go or asking if you could go w/someone else (assumed liz)

There, that’s totally clear, right?  I just misunderstood her.

sharaun says:
no. It’s tonight at 6:30. Do you mind?
I can have dinner ready beforehand

OK, now I’m getting confused.  It’s the phrase “Do you mind?” that out of place here to me.  I need some further clarification, and attempt to get it:

dave knows all your secrets says:
do you normally ask someone if they “mind” when you’re trying to invite them somewhere?  sounds like you’re wondering if i “mind” you going w/o me?
how long would we be there?

See, the whole “Do you mind” thing really makes it seem like she’s asking if I mind her going… it just seemed like an odd way to ask me to join my own family at the paint-your-own pottery place up by the bouncy place we sometimes take Keaton to.  I mean, she clearly told me above that she was asking me to go with her… right?  Her response:

sharaun says:
I am asking if you mind watching K
no

Oh, wait… what?  Now she is asking if I mind her going and leaving Keaton with me.  By now, I am royally confused, and have decided we are having two totally different conversations.  I let her know this as tactfully as I can:

dave knows all your secrets says:
good god you make no sense

There.  That should do it.

sharaun says:
MOM’S NIGHT OUT
what about that makes you think you are invited?

Ouch.

dave knows all your secrets says:
you never said that

Whoops, my first mistake.  I was spotless up until here.  I should’ve been reading a bit closer back there I suppose.

sharaun says:
sharaun  says:
anyway, there is a MOPS moms night out there tonight at 6:30

Oh, I see.  She copied her own sentence from a few lines above.

dave knows all your secrets says:
lol

sharaun says:
really
I never said that?

OK.  Whatever.  This conversations is almost over.

dave knows all your secrets says:
i’m going to punch off your face

sharaun says:
not if yours is already laying on the ground and you can’t see me

dave knows all your secrets says:
no sure, that’s fine.
i don’t mind.
i like watching her

sharaun says:
ok

dave knows all your secrets says:
plus i get to listen to music when you’re gone.

sharaun says:
I’ll make you a pretty piece of pottery

dave knows all your secrets says:
OK, make a bong so i can smoke tons of weed…
and then maybe you’ll make sense

sharaun says:
hahah

dave knows all your secrets says:
love you.  sorry i don’t read right.

A flawed technology, I tell you… flawed.

Well, Sharaun’s car decided to crap out on the side of the road today.  I went to rescue her (and Keaton) and the thing was towed off to the local shop.  No word yet on the damages, but I suspect some kind of transmission problem (because, as you know, I’m an expert in all things car).  So, we’re doing the one vehicle thing with her taking me to work (which also means she has to take me by the donut place beforehand tomorrow – can’t come empty handed on my turn for the rotating managers-bring-donuts Friday). It’s cool, two cars is overrated.

Hey, Bill put up some pictures from our “extended lunch” the other day when we drove downtown to meet Sharaun and Susie at the circus.  Since I haven’t posted pictures of Keaton in ages, you should go check out what she looks like with her new retro bob and black dye-job.  Man… I think Bill’s camera needs an adjustment, I look globular.

Goodnight friends, have a good weekend and I’ll holla at you Monday.

america’s smarter than a dancer

Wednesday night.  Still have to take the trash out; will probably wait until like midnight-thirty like I always do.

Almost through one wall-to-wall listen of the new Of Montreal record (again).  I’ve gone from a curious interest to pure infatuation with this record; and, through repeat listenings, have gained enough appreciation for it that I feel safe lauding it.  We see them live in the city the week before Thanksgiving, looking forward to a splashy glam fantastic show.

Sharaun’s watching that awful awful dancing show on TV.  No, I don’t know which one… they are all so horrible, and there seems to be so many of them.  Dancing With This, Dancing Around That, America’s Got Dancers, CSI Dancing… whatever.  I’ll just stay here hunched over my laptop, reading and writing and surfing the internet while I try not to listen…

Watched George address us this evening; he deserves some credit for offering a sound and concise explanation of the current situation – hopefully it works to raise the general awareness.  Also give him points for citing a desire for 1) low taxpayer risk, 2) no golden-parachutes for failed CEOs, and 3) bipartisan oversight and process transparency as critical aspects of a successful plan.  Overall, I thought it was a well-delivered and timely address to the nation.  Credit where credit is due.  I still have strong feelings over the whole thing, and don’t desire one bit to see my investments continue in their downward spiral, but I suppose us thirty-somethings are in it for the long-haul at this point.  It’s that, or win the lottery…

OK internet – as Keaton says to me, “I’ll see you in the morning when I wake up!”  Goodnight.

before the blessed weekend

Friday.  Yahoo.

I took the day “off” today.  Too bad that doesn’t really mean anything in the context of the modern-day e-worker; I’m still sitting on my butt (just on the couch instead of my well-worn swivel chair in my dreary cubicle) doing e-mail, sick or not.  It’s OK, I suppose… afterall my brain doesn’t seem to be suffering; just my sinuses.  Anyway, my morning thus far has consisted of working while vetting the “street” version of the new Of Montreal album today and am busy listening ot that a high-volume as the pile of used tissue grows next to me (yes, I’m writing at midday today, since I’m home and have the opportunity).

At my appointment with the doctor, I saw the nurse practitioner.  (Does anyone get to see a real Ph.D’d doctor anymore at the general practitioner these days?  I think I’ve seen the guy whose name’s on the building all of one time.)  It was a different NP than I’m used to seeing, and I ended up really liking her.  I’ve never really gone to the doctor looking for assistance with any kind of medical mystery, and I’ve usually already self-diagnosed myself and am just looking for confirmation and the almighty Rx to get me back on-track, so I’m usually pretty ambivalent to the “care” I get.  Maybe that’ll change as I get older and start to develop some more obscure infirmities, but for now I typically only need a doctor for their prescription pad.

The NP I saw today though was completely different than the drug-pushers I normally deal with.  Instead of going right to the pad and pushing me out the door with a scrawled script for antibiotics, she instead recommended an “easier on the body” (as she put it) nasal spray first (although she ultimately did prescribe an antibiotic in case that course of action failed to work).  In fact, she actually reviewed with me the two prescriptions I currently take regularly, suggesting potential ways I could eliminate them from my routine.  I liked this for some reason, maybe it’s her bedside manner or whatever but it worked to inspire trust with me.  Kind of a strange notion to have a doctor unprescribing things… but a welcome change in my opinion.

Tomorrow it’s back to work, feel like I’ve been away from my little desk for too long now (although, I did manage to get an impressive amount of work done today from the couch).  One day of work before the blessed weekend.  Saturday we’re going to Pat’s Catholic church to drink beer and eat pork at their annual Oktoberfest celebration (we had a blast last year).  Can you imagine a protestant church having a celebration which is essentially centered around drinking beer, in the house of worship?!  My hat’s off to those progressive folks, and I can’t wait to dance to some oompah with Keaton.  Sunday I work on Halloween.

Until Monday, goodnight.

Random and scattered today

It’s the end of Wednesday and I swear I’ve done a week’s worth of hard work in this first half.  Between making up for my vacation last week and trying to get a little ahead to take the edge off my vacation next week, I’m cramming…

Random and scattered today, be prepared.

Today, I got re-excited about our hike for a whole new reason.  Turns out Ben has a pilot buddy who owes him a favor and is likely going to be in town next Monday.  In recompense, he may be willing to ferry Anthony, Ben, and I to a small airstrip in the Sierras close to our trailhead.  This would be a in six-seater twin-engine job, flying from here down there in a fraction of the time it would take to drive, and, probably more importantly, salvaging my marriage by taking the burden of the eight-hour roundtrip drop-off from Sharaun and Keaton.  I can just imagine packing into a private plane, all geared out for our hike, loading our packs up and taking off into the mountain skies.  I mean, it’s like a whole super-bonus beginning to what stands to be an incredible adventure already.  And, while it’s not 100% confirmed at this point, I would say we’re trending positively (sorry for the sawmill-speak, laymen).  So rad.

Late last night the new New Kids on the new New Kids on the Block album leaked, and today I downloaded it for Sharaun.  Oh man was she happy.  What?  Oh, you didn’t know the New Kids on the Block were back together?  Yeah, they are.  All their songs sound like the last Akon or Chris Brown song you heard on the radio, right down the the thinly veiled sexual lyics and robotic pitch-shifting voice effects ala Cher’s Believe.  But, my wife, whom I love to death, loves this band to death… and has spent ungodly amounts of dosh on concert tickets for their upcoming shows (where, in the apparent fulfillment of one of her lifetime dreams, she’ll actually be going to “meet and greet” the band).  Anyway, we listened to the album most of the evening – it was even our dinnertime soundtrack.  And, let me tell you guys… it’s bad.  Real, real bad.

Today Keaton and I had a teaparty with three of her dolls, Finny, Claudia, and Hannah.  Although, instead of tea we had coffee… and we doctored it with sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg (her idea, I promise).  We had “biscuits” with our tea, which were actually tiny pieces of plastic fruit (go figure).  Sometimes I like to play the big brother role and do things like pretend to spill coffee or “accidentally” knock over one of the babies… maybe you think that’s mean but I enjoy seeing how she reacts to things.  Sometimes her reponses to situations floor me, she’s so mature seeming in some ways (well, for a two and a half year old… or whatever).  Parts of my insides cry when I think how fast she got here though… so I want to enjoy as many teaparties as I can, while I can.

Goodnight people.

Don’t old guys like music anymore?

Tonight the JMT hike crew got together at my place to make some final arrangements and do our food shopping.  Several hundred dollars and tens of pounds of pack-weight later we were back at the house splitting things four ways.  The hike nears… the hike nears.

I actually don’t have much to write tonight… but I wanted to share something I thought was funny.  By way of introduction, if you’ve read this blog for a while you likely know I’m a music nut.  And, I find a lot of new tunes “online.”  In the course of this process, I occasionally visit one specialized (completely legal and blessed by the RIAA and whatnot) website in particular and, on this website they occasionally run random polls on the frontpage.  The other day, the poll asked, simply, “How old are you?”  Check out the results:

Looks like I’m sqaurely in the minority, huh?  Me and a bunch of college kids.  In some way, that makes me feel a little “tuned in,” and in another way not.  Either way… it makes me feel old.  Don’t old guys like music anymore these days?

Goodnight.