2.27.2006

I'D GIVE THIS ONE TO MIKE SCOTT: What happened was my brother Casey innocently asked me for some lyrics -- said he was having a drought of sorts, and asked if I would fire some stuff his way to stoke the flames. Anyway, the stuff is flowing. And this one I like:


THE SECRET OF LOVE
----------------------------
She liked to lie
but she didn't know it
She was made of evil things
but she didn't show it

She took me in
Then put me out
I never loved her...
Who's lying now?

She was full of sunshine
but smelled like rain
She gave me pleasure
that felt like pain

I thought I loved her
What did I know
Thought I was tied up
when I was free to go..


(chorus)
What kind of love makes you a prisoner?
What kind of lover breaks you down?
Why is it that I feel abandoned
even when she's still around...


She was just a schoolgirl
dressed like a lady
Knew how to charm me
by actin' shady

Never intended
to crush my spirit
I kept her secret
Want you to hear it...


(chorus)
What kind of love makes you a prisoner?
What kind of lover breaks you down?
Why is it that I feel abandoned
even when she's still around...

'NOTHER HOKEY SONG: I also hear this one as a country tune:



GO TO BED IN TROUBLE
--------------------

Looking back on the summers I spent
I learned a lot of lessons
But I never knew what they meant
I would wake up wore out
I'd go to bed all wide awake
I couldn't keep track of all the girlfriends
or of all the drugs I'd take


(chorus)
Goddamn
that was then
I must have been a whole lot younger when
I could go to bed in trouble
wake up and start all over again

(Now I'm) ...Chasing away all the mistakes that I made
Making friends with all my enemies
so I don't have to be afraid
I'm looking forward to the future
Got a purpose to my life
I'm trying to shake loose all the ghosts
from me so I can find a wife

(chorus)
Goddamn
that was then
I must have been a whole lot younger when
I could go to bed in trouble
wake up and start all over again

I have a notion, you might call it conjecture
That all my past lives and my missteps
were just practice for my future
And when I reach it then I'll finally understand
that all those lessons were what helped me
become a huband and a man

(bridge)
And if I should falter...
make a mistake along the way
I hope that I'll remember
everyday is a new day

(chorus)
Goddamn
that was then
I must have been a whole lot younger when
I could go to bed in trouble
wake up and start all over again

I'M SURE THIS HAPPENS TO YOU: I woke up writing country songs this morning. Like, for example, this one:


(intro)
There are two things to write a song about
one's falling in love
the other is falling out

If you're alive
and your heart is beating
I know I don't have to tell you
this falling out of love
eventually will kill you

But the lucky thing is
that by the very same same token
you can come right back to life
when those magic words are spoken

(chorus)
"I love you" will make you whole again
"I love you" can correct you
"I love you" superglues your heart
"I love you" can protect you

If you find yourself down on the floor
after love has taken leave
there's just one thing that you can do
say the words you would receive

(chorus)
"I love you" saves a drowning man
"I love you" dulls the knife
"I love you" pulls you in the boat
"I love you" saves your life

2.22.2006

BACK IN THE BLOGGING SADDLE AGAIN: Start in the middle, see where you end up...

My four-year-old, C.J., has decided he likes shirts with nothing on 'em. As in, "Daddy, that's got stuff in the middle. I want an 'x-in-the-middle-shirt." Huh? "X-in-the-middle means nothing. Nothing in the middle. Just plain."

Once again, the kid is taking after his paternal grandfather, notorious for his love of subtle, understated, or non-existent branding on his apparel. Apparel. Heh. Funny to think of my dad's navy-blue and khaki combos as apparel!

Last night C.J. told us he wants to "get bigger and be a drummer on T.V." He also hopes his whiskers come out of his chin soon. Meanwhile Mikey is starting to talk. Scratch that. Mikey has been blabbering since birth. This kid talks nonsense every waking minute, some combo of German and an Asian dialect. But lately his forceful vowels and consonants are starting to make some sense. The kid is nothing of not emphatic. Every utterance comes with an exclamation caboose. "Nana!" (That means banana, for now.) "Nanny!" (That can mean his nanny or his mom.) "Da! Da da!" (Yours truly, as in "get your dumb ass over here right now, father o' mine.") "D'oh!" (Down.) "Essay!" (This one. That one. From the Spanish.) "Oh, baby!" (I hurt myself. I'm sad. Pity me.)

That's enough for now. More later from the ORD Red Carpet, as I prep for my Colorado City jaunt.

2.19.2006

SEEMS FITTING FOR A SUNDAY: My pal Trisha has prodded me to write something, and although I don't have anything new right now I thought I'd post something I wrote a while back that I liked:


We feel terrible when someone dies, in part because we feel that we have, in some way, died too. We might even say things like, “A part of me has died.” Which part are we referring to? Are we not whole people? What we may mean instead is that we are part of the person who has died...and they are part of us. And so we feel as if we, too, have died, are dying, and faced with that we are doubly afraid and unsettled.

Many of us are wrestle with the fact that our friends and family – and ourselves, at some point -- will die and be forgotten, will be left alone to disintegrate...and eventually to disappear entirely. We worry that life is finite, or as Alan Watts once referred to it, a brief flash of light between two periods of infinite darkness.

But there is in death the possibility for a kind of miracle, if we look for it. It's much like what the Christians have been saying for two millennia: We are indeed capable of engineering resurrection. By embracing our dead loved one's memory and essence, and by figuratively carrying them out of sacred space -- the church, the temple, the meditation hall -- with us when we leave it, by living out the full potential and potency of their inspiration, by wrapping ourselves in their soul and spirit...we can almost literally lift them up from the dead. They ride with us, in us, out of sacred space and into life again.

While I don't believe I'll ever see a dead person stand up and walk days after her death, I do believe in the resurrection that a community of friends and family can provide -- for the departed, and for themselves. And I believe that is not simply a possibility but a responsibility of those left behind to lift life up to its highest purpose, and to walk on as if buoyed by the vaporous spirit of the departed. I believe that by carrying deceased souls with us, we are ourselves lifted up and made lighter.

2.11.2006

THEY ALSO COULD HAVE CALLED IT A BLONCHO: Check out the slanket!

KRAUTHAMMER ON THE CARTOONS: This guy is becoming a hero of mine. Check it out.

2.10.2006

FREE ADVICE FOR THE DEMS: Somewhere way back when on this blog -- and were I a responsible blogger I'd go back and find it and link to it -- I recall observing that the Bush Administration's key vulnerability was not to be found in their ideology, but in their competence, or lack thereof. I remember fearing that Bush 43 simply wasn't smart enough to do the job, all the while hoping that his henchmen -- Powell, Cheney, Rumsfield, Rice, etc. -- could cover for his lack of intellect.

I recently had a similar conversation with Dem friends. In light of all the revelations about the inefficient prosecution of the war, the management (mismanagement) of Katrina, and the ham-handed dealings with K Street, the Dems need not focus on ideological differences. In fact, they can focus on what unites us.

Here's what I think the Dem message ought to be:

"In many ways, we're just like the Republicans. We love our country, and we'll work to support it, fight to defend it, and stay up all night to fix it when it breaks. We believe in freedom, in equality, in democracy, and in the family. We feel an obligation to help those in need, to stand behind our allies, and to be a good global citizen.

"We care about the economy AND the environment, and we know that you can't save one and neglect the other. We believe our richest and our poorest citizens must act responsibly and live by the same rules; and that people of all creeds, colors, and socioeconomic groups have not just a practical responsibility to live in peace with one another, but also a moral imperative to love one another.

"So you see, when you consider Democrats and Republicans, see that by and large we're aiming at the same things. And yet if you look back at the years this country lived under a Democratic administration, under the leadership of Bill Clinton and Al Gore...we actually did more just than believe in these things. We did more than just aim at them. We lived them. These beliefs were our reality, not simply our rhetoric.

"In our hearts, we're all patriots. We're all philanthropists. We're all spiritual people, in one way or another. In our hearts, we're not Democrats or Republicans, but merely citizens. Human beings. All doing the very best we can.

"We believe that George Bush is a good man. We believe he has done his best. And we wish him well and thank him for his service. Now, as we move forward, the question to you, fellow Americans, is not which party has the best ideals. It's which party can best lead us to the ideals we all share. Which party can not simply aim, but truly hit the target."

2.07.2006

RED CARPET CONFIDENTIAL: Here I am in the Red Carpet Lounge again, and it dawns on me: Some of my readers -- like those in Hamilton, Ohio and Canton, Michigan, for example -- don't get out much. So, ladies and gentlemen, non-travelers especially, here's an undercover cellphone shot of the United Red Carpet Lounge at O'Hare, C Terminal. Pretty cool, eh? Actually, in a life of nonstop activity, two kids, etc., it's kind of an oasis of calm. I'm sipping a free cappucino and listening to THE VIEW on the TV nearby. A man in a business suit and New Balance sneakers is pacing while he talks on this cell phone. And a lot of tired looking people are absently looking at laptops and newspapers. I like it here. Posted by Picasa

LICKY! It's been a while since I've featured my younger guy, the inimitable Michael Lee Hess, better known as "Licky." He's nearly 15 months, and boy is it a fun time. He has an everpresent grin, his own unintelligible lexicon (part German, part Japanese, as best we can determine), and a very discerning palate (he's basically on a toddler Atkins diet -- lots of meat and fat, no love for the carbs). Where his brother C.J. was a drummer from birth, drumming on everything around him and thrilling to drum sets, drum solos, and drummers on TV, Licky is a dancer. This kid has the get-down in his soul. He can already work a boom box, turn on his favorite songs, and then drop and shake his big butt to the beat.

 
 Posted by Picasa

2.06.2006

BOSTON! My son C.J. has decided that the greatest sports team in the whole world is the Boston Red Sox. We have no idea where he got this idea, but he's adamant about it. Perhaps it's simply because he has red socks, they are Red Sox, and voila! Remember when life was that easy?

 Posted by Picasa

2.04.2006

FILE UNDER BIG WHOOP: Does anybody really care? God, this guy has to be one of the most self-involved folks of all time. Go get a job, for God's sake.

2.03.2006


PICK MY PROFILE PIC: My sis-in-law is griping about my profile picture. She preferred the one from my high-school talent show, where I was jumping off the amplifier wearing a camouflage mask, to the one where I'm all old and smiley. What happened was that old jumping one was hosted on a website I no longer pay to maintain, so it up and disappeared. In order to stick up a new one, I have to send the pic to some server somewhere, like I've done with this post...

I'm thinking I might use this one. Eh?

2.01.2006

OWIE! The bandaged appendage. Tough to type! Posted by Picasa

LIVE FROM HOLLYWOOD: This trip is mishap central. I oughta be on candid camera.

First I forget my underwear. Then I forget my computer. Then I buy the uberpants. (Wearing 'em right now, rolled down. Chilling on Robertson Blvd. after the world's best veggie burger at the Newsroom, waiting to head over to Paramount. Willing to bet I'm the only dude on this track flying the Chereskins. Awww, yeah.) And then this morning, rushing to get out the door, I jam my hand back into my awesome, super-compartmentalized dopp kit, and...

Holy crap, I'm bleeding everywhere. Lanced three big cuts into my fingertip, each ridiculous Sensor blade ripping its own signature swatch out of my pointer. Man, fingertips, they can bleed, especially when you freak out and wave 'em around in shock and in pain. My room must've looked all OJ to the cleaning folks.

And so here I sit, big pants and band-aids, just hoping the paparazzi don't find me...

ON BUYING GIANT BRIEFS: Desperate, I wander down to the Westin South Coast gift shop (or is it shoppe?) last night. The small Asian lady is closing up, but she lets me in. Almost immediately I spot an odd display of toiletries, makeshift luggage, and yep, single-pack "Chereskin" briefs. There's L and XL, and on the package they look more or less like my beloved Calvin Klein briefs, discovered in the '80s (natch) and worn to this day (mixed with boxers). I grab the Ls, because I'm not a total fat-ass, and I take 'em up to the counter. The little Asian proprietress starts giggling.

"Oh!" she exclaims. "Oh, ho-ho! Oh-ho-ho-ho!"

She's giggling uncontrollably now, somewhere between humor and discomfort. She starts nodding.

"Good!" she says. "Oh-ho-ho-ho!" Nodding. "You need!"

Just bag up the briefs and let me be on my way, lady.

I retreat to my room and try on my new briefs. They're diaper-huge. The front of 'em is the friggin' Hancock Building (whoa! pun alert!) it's so hi-rise. They start at my crotchular region and extend well over my belly button. I look like an ad for Powerdorks Anonymous. Sure, no one will see me in my briefs. But I'll know. Plus if my shirt rides up at all folks will wonder if I'm Mormon.

I fold down the waistband. Not as bad. Not great. Won't win any Marcus Shenkenberg look-alike contest. But they'll do.