THE LAST PARTY I ATTENDED, I GOT DRUNK BEFORE IT ENDED: Okay, Laurel, try and Google that. A great line by a great band.

PROMISED YOU A MIRACLE: My lifestyle-change regimen has been imperfect, as expected. So far I've had fries twice, eaten after 8PM twice, and only done cardio twice. Luckily the week's not over yet. At least I can squeeze in a few more cardio sessions...and hopefully no more fries or late eating.

Why am I eating fries? No excuse other than that I love 'em, and some of the meals I've eaten just don't seem right without french fries. (Think of a big fat veggie burger with everything including grilled onions and liquid cheddar cheese...or a McDonald's #9 fish combo in the airport.)

And the late eating? Gimme a break. One was a night I was flying back from the West Coast, and when I arrived home after 8PM my wife had a huge salad (with hard-boiled eggs and avocadoes) already made for me. And then there was last night, when the neighbors and their kids were over and we were too busy being the cops (with the kids) to feed ourselves.

Can you blame a guy? The guy doesn't blame himself. Much.

MIXED FEELINGS ABOUT THE FUNCTION AND THE FORM: I picked up the latest Beck record a month or so ago and have been wrestling with it. This review is the best explanation for my mixed feelings. It's also one of the first interesting and artful reviews I've read in a long while. That Pitchfork site has really gotten good.

ONE LESS TOOTHBRUSH HANGING IN THE STAND: A quick two cents on what went down on IDOL a few days ago: Farewell, Constantine! And Scotty the Body is in the top three!

What killed the long-haired pouty-cat? Song selection. That Nickelback crap is crap. Any of those bands with the basso mumble-singers, they just ain't right for IDOL. No Creed or Trapt or Nickelback need apply. Also, lay off the Whitney and Christina and other totally signature diva shit. You need to bring MOR pablum, my peeps, like what my boy Scotty did with that Luther track, like he did with his Hall & Oates track, n'ahm sayin'? Old Constantine got lucky with his over-the-top "Bohemian Rhapsody." Turns out his voice fits over Freddie Mercury like lycra pants over microphone-straddlin' thighs.

And it turns out America will turn on a favorite if he/she doesn't "bring it," as that genius Randy Jackson puts it.

One of the greatest things about that show are the trainwrecks that are Paula and Randy, btw. You almost feel sorry for Simon. Simon is like the one guy at work -- okay, me -- that actually has his shit together. (On the off chance somebody from my work ever reads this, please note that the previous comment was satirical in nature, pointing out the idea that we all sometimes feel like we're the only one on the ball at work, while everyone else is a bunch of chimps, just like that great commercial.)

I used to loathe Seacrest, but over time he's kind of grown on me, like a too-taut tag in my favorite shirt that I'm afraid to cut out for fear of wrecking the shirt, and so you kind of grow a callous back there, or maybe you even start to like the little itchy-scratch of the tag dragging across your the top of your spine.

TV PARTY TONIGHT! Swiped from Trisha, a cool game:

a. Post a list of 10 TV shows you follow (current or canceled).
b. Have your friends/readers guess your favourite CHARACTER from each show.
c. When guessed correctly, bold the line and write a sentence about why you like that character.

1. The Andy Griffith Show. Barney Fife indeed, as guessed by Dave. Don Knotts is a genius, and Barney Fife was his best role. You'll never convince me Barney Fife wasn't a real person.
2. Three's Company. Stanley Roper, as guessed by Trisha. Norman Fell's facial expressions alone were hilarious. His eyes were comic characters.
3. Surreal Life (I have a favorite character across all the seasons). Nobody guessed Christopher Knight (Peter from the Brady Bunch), but he was my favorite (although I only saw like two episodes from this season). What did I like? He's old, but he's still in shape, seems very nice, and scores the model chick. Good for him. A close second? Erik Estrada, who, as my brother Eric suggested, "gets it."
4. Happy Days. Al's my man, as Trisha guessed. I love the hangdog character actors. With one simple phrase (yep yep yep), this guy steals every scene he's in. He's ugly beautiful, as the French say.
5. Welcome Back Kotter. Mr. Woodman (as guessed correctly by Eric) is another one of these character-actor guys. He has a face for radio, as they say. I just remember that every time he entered a scene I smiled. And when he would have a spasm of laughter it would just kill me.
6. NYPD Blue (I have a male and a female favorite). Sipowicz, as guessed by Trisha, is correct. Life is hard for the Dennis Franz character, and you can see it on every inch of his body, hear it in the timbre of every word. Still, he gives goodness everything he's got.
7. The Sopranos. I'll give Paulie Walnuts to Eric. On a show of superstars, Paulie stands out as real, funny, and real funny. His simmering outrage is a sight to see.
8. Arrested Development (hard to pick just one favorite!) Nobody guessed Gob, and he's my favorite. Gob's manic sense of self -- one minute he's sure he's a genius, the next he's convinced he's a vulnerable idiot -- strikes a chord with me. That said, I could have easily gone for Tobias, Buster, or Lucille, who are all brilliant. And although I'm not a big Martin Short fan, his cameo as a crippled Jack Lalanne-ish fitness guru ("Shoot me!") was inspired comedy.
9. David Letterman. Yep, Paul Shaffer, as guessed by Trisha. Dave is funny, but Paul's knowing presence takes the edge off the host's smarm and reminds us that's it's all a great big game in the business of show.
10. Law and Order. Trisha's right. Lenny Briscoe is the man. He's like a less tortured Sipowicz, a man who seems to have endless cheeks for the slaps of life, yet who retains a punch-drunk sense of humor that gives us all hope.

THESE BIRDS CAN'T FLY AWAY: The rumors are true -- I've been watching AMERICAN IDOL intently this season. Last note I voted for the first time. In fact, I voted twice...for Scotty the Body.

I thought last night's performances were the worst of the season, across the board. Although Vonzell looked hot as hell (as always), even she sounded kinda sloppy. Bo Bice and Constantine, as much as they trouble me, both have oodles of star quality. But Constantine's song was horrible. Horrible. And Bo's was sort of a meandering mess of attitude, devoid of any highs or lows. "I gotta be me" is a tough pose to pull off an a show like AMERICAN IDOL. I was like, whut-EVER. Tired of it. I liked the country chick with the great-butt-in-jeans, but I won't pretend that had anything to do with her performance. I just think she's cute. Fedorov was better than usual, and I like him, but I don't dig a guy singing Celine Dion. Heck, I don't dig Celine Dion singing Celine Dion.

So why did I vote for Scott? Granted, he has some vocal issues. He seems uncoached, mostly. But when he's on, I think he's got the purest vocal sound of anyone in the competition. I think he's versatile. I think he could undergo a makeover as a star that would make him fun to watch. And I just like him. I think he's the least fake of anyone in the competition, the least calculating. The guy just likes to sing.

I'm sure his days are numbered, but he's got my vote(s) for now.

WORK 'TIL YOU'RE MUSCLEBOUND: At the risk of feeling even mildly self-congratulatory after just one day of paying attention to my diet/weight/exercise, let me just say: It's working!

No, I didn't break my promise not to get on the scale 'til next Tuesday. But I can just sense it. Yesterday I steered around McD's and Taco Bell at the mall and opted for a shitty veggie half-sandwich at some little no-name place. Last night I hurried up my high-priced sushi order so it would arrive pre-8PM. And then, grudgingly, I ambled out in short-pants at 10PM to commence running. I really only ran for about 20 minutes or so, but my heart-rate was definitely (and sadly) up for 30 minutes.

Am really curious who will nail the above reference...and want to add a bonus: The band in question plays one of my Top 10 favorite songs of all time. Name the band...and the song!

DISEMBODIED POETICS: My friend Vince (who runs a really cool web business called Reusable Bags, and who once painted Trisha's house, if memory serves) just sent me an e-mail that, even devoid of context, is just hilarious. It's one line, and it says:

Let's beat that ape senseless.

In other trivia, note that the above headline refers to a school founded by a bunch of beat writers. Any reference of any kind will win you The Glory. Oh, and I just downloaded a new Coldplay single, a new New Order record, and the new Ben Folds record. Hooray!

FONZIE CAN'T RUMBLE, AND BY THE WAY... According to my favorite gossip-hound, Lloyd Grove, Bryant Gumbel is Matt Lauer's best friend. Huh? Lauer embodies likability, whereas Gumbel embodies the opposite. How odd. Makes me think I need to rethink my feelings for one of 'em. Which one?

NOT SUCCULENT, TASTY, OR KIND: One of the many reasons I chose my ovo-lacto-pesco-veg diet is my family history of heart disease. First, I quit smoking (several years ago). Then, having addressed that, I went after my diet. It certainly helped that I was very sympathetic to the idea of animal rights and such. Turns out, at least as far as cardio-health goes, I might have been ahead of my time. (And my love for red wine also works with the linked article!)

TAKE A LOAD OFF, FANNY: There are all manner of studies that show that carrying extra weight is bad for one's health. (I'm talking corporeal poundage here, fat cells that are attached to the body -- not carrying the laundry up from the basement, although I'd argue that's not so great for you either. I have actually argued that, but my wife's not buying it.)

Anyway, as I mentioned yesterday, I'm kind of a fat f--- right now, and after a week of semi-nudity (toplessness) in a tropical location, there's simply no denying that I need to get my shit together, so to speak.

My plan is this: Weekly weigh-ins, posted here, so as to shame and motivate myself (and to celebrate my efforts!). Truth be told, I'm the kind of self-obssessed loser who weighs himself every day. You'd think this would be a good thing, but I find that it sort of blinds me to the big picture, has me focused on a pound here or there, the effects of one meal or one run rather than of a lifestyle.

As Camel readers and friends and family already know, I stopped eating all meat save for fish some three or so years ago, maybe more. If you want to label me, I'm an ovo-lacto-pesco vegetarian. (I eat eggs, dairy, and fish, plus veggies.) It was an ethical/mindfulness/health decision, and I feel it's served me well. One advantage is, as friggin' fat as I am, I don't seem to have quite an unsightly a midsection bulge as I did several years ago at this weight. That said, although this diet-style seemed for years to make it easier to maintain my desired weight, that effect has abated somewhat and I find myself a fat-fuck all over again.

So in addition to posting my once-weekly weigh in, I'm going to do the following:

- No eating post-8PM.
- No french fries.
- No chips or other bagged bullshit carbs.
- At least 30 minutes of cardio/day.

These are my four little resolutions, the stuff I'm going to implement this week. I'll keep you posted on my progress, my struggles, etc. I fly to L.A. on Wednesday evening, and then again next week, and then somewheres else the next. The travel will make it tough to adhere to my nuanced lifestyle change program. But so what? Life's tough all over. Let's see if I can unfat myself somewhat!

I weighed in at a scrumptious 200 lbs. even this morning. My jeans are snugger than I want them to be. Let's see if a week makes any difference at all. I'll weight in again next Tuesday AM. Until then, I'll share a gripe or two, my progress and pitfalls. Good luck to me!

BECAUSE I'M PROUD TO BE BACK Y'ALL, AND THAT'S A FACT Y'ALL: So I'm just back from the vacation and buried at work and about to head up to Milwaukee for the rest of the day, but wanted to sort of leave a placeholder post in here about what's next:

Blogging about my big fat weight and about how I'm going to address it. Blogging about notebooks I keep that aim at self-awareness and such but seem not to make a difference. About Sundays. About writing poetry. This and that. Oh, and about the books I bought yesterday (Nick Hornby, this guy Harris writing about THE END OF FAITH, and Franzen's seductive HOW TO BE ALONE).

LOOKIN' DOWN ON CREATION: We're loving our place. It's a big old joint with a lofted living room, a huge master bedroom, and two more smaller bedrooms. Granite countertops, new stainless steel appliances, and a great tile floor. The highlight, literally, is a widow's walk at the top that offers a great view of the beach, which seems to feature more dolphins this year than ever. I am so not ready to head home.

GLORIFIED VERSION OF A PELICAN: A mom, a naked kid, and a pelican. Bliss! Picture deleted. [Too many creepy incoming links to it.]

WALK ON THE OCEAN: Hanging down on Sanibel Island, FL this week with the family. Our place is beautiful, with a great view of the Gulf. I'll post a pic or two at some point.

GOT TO KEEP ON KEEPING ON: Wrote this poem on the flight back from L.A. today. A friend of mine suggests it ought to be the title poem of a collection of airplane poetry. Anyway, here it is:

Going Nowhere

Why is it
only when I am
speeding above
the earth
my life
the land, passing
between places
that I can
finally
slow down

well
enough

to hear my heart
beating to feel
my being moving to no
destination no
place no
where?

Is there more
wisdom in the answer
or the question?

MODEL WORLD: Writing from a Starbucks in Manhattan. Columbus Avenue and 67th to be exact. It's really crowded in New York today. Must be a convention in town. Oh, and there are a lot of lovely women here, too. Maybe it's a model convention.

I'm seeing packs of nannies and dogwalkers, too. For some reason I feel sorry for the kids and the dogs.

I JUST WROTE A GREAT HEADLINE, SO I'M NOT SWEATIN' IT: I'm thinking that, for entertainment, I'm going to make all my headlines allusions to film, literature, or music for the time being. He or she who nails the cite (w/in the COMMENTS feature) wins the glory.

TRAVEL AHEAD, TRAVEL BEHIND: Big week ahead, with a major flight in the middle. Wednesday afternoon I present in Manhattan, then Thursday afternoon I present in Los Angeles. My home base is Chicago, so I'll be criss-crossing the country again this week.

CRAPRAMENTO: Morning flight to Sacramento today, focus groups tonight, and then back home. Should be a whirlwind. Coolin' my heels in Red Carpet right now, listening to my unruly stomach. Pray the Immodium is doing its job...

ANOTHER AIRPLANE POEM: Tapped out another poem on the flight home last night. I think it has some Pope and some Schiavo in it, as well as my own usual musing on mortality.

Tilting
You can
hear it,
the sound of your body
living
and
dying
in every moment.

Life is a labor
to breathe,
to
pull in
and push out;
it is grasping
and releasing
to be whole and still
tilting toward
nothing.

ORD 2 HPN: 7AM little-plane run up to White Plains, NY for a day's worth of meetings, followed by a 5PMish little-plane run back to Chicago. Cruising on just under four hours sleep, counting on adrenalin, Starbucks, and the energy of the universe to carry me through. Will be fun to see if this little Canadair jet offers enough elbow room for typing. Still have a little more scribbling to do on the plane.

Today's moment of gratitude: Despite lack of sleep and a tough deadline...no real extra stress. Feeling tired but solid. A touch sweaty, too, but you can't have it all.

POEM THERAPY: Tons of work today, first day back, stressed, tight shoulder, oy vey, ugh, etc., and so I wrote this poem:

MANIFESTS
Life is
learning how to
stand still
at the center

of the storm
or better still

how to be
the cloud

that is not really
there
to begin with.

(Note: It occurs that another nice title for this one might have been "Blow Me." Seriously.)