Shouts From The Lawn Podcast

The Waking Up Next To Suzanne Pleshette Show

2011-08-05T17:41:00.000-07:00

Final episode.

I had fun. And boy, was that important. Seriously, it was.

Stay tuned for more awkward transitions.

-jim

The Sticking Out Like A Sore Thumb Show

2011-07-25T18:28:00.000-07:00

Part 1 of the Final Episode.

In which...Luke learns of his sister, Neo learns how to dodge bullets, Doc Brown flies away in a time-traveling train, and I run out of movie references.

-jim

The Amazing Worst Nightmare Show

2011-07-11T18:40:00.000-07:00

Show 92.

It seems to be like an endless Saturday afternoon. Sure I can sit around, sleep, watch a movie, finish reading Infinite Jest, take a long walk, or rearrange the junk mail pile. I could; but I feel I need to do something constructive. It’s a holding pattern. And I truly believe that holding patterns are one of life’s minor tragedies. Time you wish you could get back.

There seems to be some confusion in my brain concerning the big career change. I actually have to alter nearly everything about myself. I want to. However, my natural states of rest and concentration don’t know what’s coming. They should be bracing like they see a punch coming; but instead they’re gazing out of the back window. Maybe that’s the best way to go.

Hmm?

jim

P.S. – By the way, I will probably never finish Infinite Jest. I think I’m too stupid. I’m reading Outliers, which makes me feel smart.

The How To Make A Fruit Fly Trap Show

2011-06-28T19:12:00.000-07:00

Show 91.

I know I reveal my favorite song in this podcast, but I have to say, it is the one song that turns my mood around every time I hear it. With eight million songs at my disposal it seems pretty unlikely that I (of all people) could narrow it down. Truth is, I just picked it.

I have other contenders, like 'Dear Prudence' by the Beatles, 'Bones' by Radiohead and 'Selfless, Cold, and Composed' by Ben Folds Five. But the one I picked is just such a perennial rump shaker it had to hit the top spot.

The humidity is kicking in...and its almost July. That's a smile you just heard.

Here's to summers of appropriate length.

jim

The Benny Mardones Is Somewhere Show

2011-06-21T18:09:00.000-07:00

Show 90.

Its been a week of bullcrap computer fixing, buying, maintaining, uploading and downloading, tech support, returning, saving, deleting, restoring, rebooting, scanning and crying. I don't mind saying that when my life can start easing away from these machines I will be happier.

I turned 39 and I felt it. Not sure what the feeling is, but it makes a sound in my skull with a resounding echo. It is very much there and everything I do seems to matter a little more? Drastically changing your life will do that. Looking very forward to building something new. I want to know what I can truly handle. Most likely, quite a bit...then I'll be pissed about that.

Oh well. New shows coming in the next two weeks.

-jim

The Protestant Shaq Ethic Show

2011-06-08T17:44:00.001-07:00

Master of disaster, seven foot- three.

Here's another.

I had to deal with computer fixing dealies last night and it reminded me of how much I really don't like computers. You can't reason with them and you can't whack them like an old TV on the fritz.

Does anything go on the fritz anymore?

Enjoy,

jim

The Quality Landscaping At A Great Price Show

2011-05-24T18:47:00.000-07:00

Here we go.

It's remarkable how much I spend doing a show and how little is left over.

Enjoy some solo interpretations of modern jazz fused with an electric sting.

I don't know what that is.

-jim

The Kindness Is Not Weakness Show

2011-05-10T18:00:00.000-07:00

High five!
I remember slowing down and nearly killing someone for my mother-in-law to take the above photo.
***
Sunshine is making me happier, but the byproduct is that it's keeping me awake, too. So I can blame sunshine for my sleep deprivation now. Convenient?
***
I'd like to get out there a little more this year. Take some more photos of things that aren't barns. I've seen a lot, but there is so more. I may have to sell a kidney for gas money, but I think it's worth it.

-jim

The Time-Traveling Egyptian Woman In A Hat Show

2011-05-03T18:45:00.000-07:00

Makin' Some Noise.

Pretty much dealing with the above this evening. Enjoy the beginning of May.

-jim

The Devil and Jason Bateman Show

2011-04-26T19:27:00.000-07:00

Back.

One of the most difficult things for me to do is daydream without judgment. I walk a lot and I use that time to let it all hang out..inside my skull. If I think about being a rock star or a superhero or I wonder how best to rearrange my shirt drawer, I just let it go. But there is a review panel in there, a Statler and Waldorf critiquing the thoughts and WHY I am thinking them. As if thinking of something else would be a better use of my time.

I’m here to tell you, that’s just not true. That part of my brain is fear in disguise. It’s that three seconds before you jump into a cold morning pool, or the frustration before a first kiss. It’s your eyes looking upward, searching for a creative answer. Inspiration for the next great creative idea or for a money making endeavor can come from anywhere; including when you are analyzing Jimmy Fallon or Philly cheesesteaks. No one knows how it works..

My brain has some serious foolishness to get done. I need to leave it alone.

-jim

The Plungers And Wrong Guys Show

2011-04-05T17:04:00.000-07:00

Ka-pow!

I've been writing characters and scenes for practice. It's rough right now. I'm pretty rusty. Here's a sample:

' Beach sand settles into everywhere. It finds cracks in your body only a medical examiner knows about. The abrasive is always worse then it sounds; one has to factor in the tenderness of the skin after a few exposed hours of solar radiation on a seemingly beautiful day. No matter what SPF you've spread over yourself in hopes of cheating nature and the sun’s right to fry whomever it sees fit, the gritty sand will be a reminder of why we create enclosed homes with carpeted floors and central air.

John found a public outdoor shower in front of the Quality Inn. There was no chance for his feet to be cleaned, but the rest of his body wriggled under the lukewarm shower of city water. He tried not to inhale while dozens of summer vacationing teens cackled above him in the hotel pool. They didn’t need the shower. Pool rules dictated one before entering but John never bothered when he had the chance. There was nothing like the first splash into the deep end. The world instantly shut up for a few moments. John could be detached from the earth. Hands and feet would touch nothing as he bobbed underwater, like a hunk of pineapple in your grandmother’s Jell-O dessert. All the weight lifted from his back and every grain of sand rinsed away.

But the dripping shower dousing him with ass-water would have to do.'

Write what you know.

enjoy,

jim

The Waffles McGavin Show

2011-03-30T10:44:00.000-07:00

Mmmm...tasty.

Hi there. Today is exactly like and completely different than any other day that has ever been and will ever be. The trees outside will be exactly the height they are right now only for today. We are zipping through space and this fixed point in the universe won't be visited again in exactly the same way. An actor named Christopher McDonald will only be this old for one day in his life. And that day is today.

And, I think I need to wash my slippers.

enjoy,

jim

The Kenesaw Mountain Tuesday Show

2011-03-15T18:39:00.000-07:00

Exterminate!

To the right is a picture of KML himself. He kinda reminds me of what i would have looked like had I been born in the 19th century.

So I've been watching a lot of Doctor Who lately. The differences between a British production and an American one are sweet little pacifist and quasi-socialist nuances that are sensitive to the touch and are not lost on me. My only beef seems to be with the terror-robot Daleks and their incessant screaming. Why the screaming?

I told my brother a couple shows ago that I would reassess the podcast after I hit 100 shows. He said to just keep going.

I will. Why? Not because I believe I will gain any more listeners or I have metric tons of material yet mined; I just don't think it's a good idea to quit everything.

At least, now I do.

-jim

The Lucid Dreams and Hooper Show

2011-03-08T18:49:00.000-08:00

From the glass floor in the CN Tower, 110 stories above Toronto.

80th show.

I have painted myself in a bit of a corner with these posts. I sit here to provide a link to my newest endeavor, and I try to come up with something witty to share. Problem is, I save all that for the shows.

Blurch.

-jim

The Corporate-Approved Robotic Blowhard Show

2011-03-01T18:58:00.000-08:00

Big-Ass Sandwiches, Portland, Oregon.

Order up.

It looks like food may be my life. I didn't plan it that way. But with a Mrs. in the business for 17 years or so and our minds set on our own corner of the culinary world, I think I better get used to the idea.

I could think of the 378 different directions my life could have gone, but I am here to testify that will drive you crazy. But here, now...in this world I am in Portland and people like to buy food out of trailers. And we want in.

Its a Frankenstein show. I pieced some things together for someone's enjoyment. If that is you, thank you for your patronage.

-jim

The Percussion Show

2011-02-22T18:16:00.001-08:00

Ba-doom!

I can't tell you how listening to 'When the Levee Breaks' 100 times when I was kid changed the way I think about art and music.

The reason I can't tell you is because it transcends speech. Music fills us up in a way that words just can't; it's a massage more than a movie. It's a punch in the face. Well, Zeppelin was a punch in the face. I suppose James Taylor or Bob Dylan were friendly nudges.

I wanted to play drums because I firmly believe that if we indeed have past lives, I was a railroad worker/slave. I'm quite sure my life was spent in the heat and the only enjoyment I got out of my back-breaking bloody-callused day was the rhythms in my head. Its the collective groove; the beat, that I feel alll the time. I could be at work or in line at Safeway buying broccoli and Gatorade. Its the subtle undertone of my humdrum existence on Earth.

That's why I play the drums. I suck at it because I lack discipline, but I still play.

So this show is about music and bands and drummers and drums. I am also a lifelong fanboy. I still like watching guys play. Even the kid (and there always is one) down at the Portland Saturday Market with his homemade kit of paint buckets, bottles and trash can lids invariably receives a couple bucks from me every time. No matter how good he is. (And he's always better than me.)

Enjoy.
-jim

The Two Guys And 9,000 Explosions Show, Part 2

2011-02-15T20:11:00.000-08:00

Now I have a machine gun. Ho. Ho. Ho.

Part 2.

I'll have to do a show sometime with the greatest villains ever. Hans Gruber will most likely top it for me.

I have absolutely nothing to say right now. Its all been thrown into podcasts, most likely. I hope you enjoy your day. Sincerely.

-jim

The Two Guys And 9,000 Explosions Show - Part 1

2011-02-07T18:17:00.000-08:00

Blam!

That is a photo of Matt and I roughly 20 years ago. I'd like to say a lot has changed since then...but...

Ok, so what I've been doing lately to stave off the inevitable madness is try to put a little more into the show. I'm thinking that if you have the genetic defect in your brain that likes to entertain others, you better tend to it. If not, you're Tyler Durden punching yourself in the face to get out your humdrum existence.

But, alas. My fatal flaw. Do not tell anyone what your plans are. Big mistake. People like to think it makes you more accountable, but in the end you are left with little room to edit your plans. We do not live in a pass or fail world. There is nuance. If I need more time or money or material or advice...take it.

I have certainly been rambling about nothing. Stay tuned!

Sentimental White Stripes Post That A Million People Are Writing At This Moment

2011-02-02T20:28:00.000-08:00

I had nearly given up on music until The White Stripes came along.

Back in '02, I had had long given up hope that there would ever be another Kurt Cobain a Hendrix, a Beatles or even a Sex Pistols ever again. MTV was poisoned by reality poop and the radio was nothing but Britney and boy bands and the hip hop du jour. I felt pretty damn old. Then, Dylan , who is usually ten years behind with his musical tastes, (Literally, he was just getting into Nirvana at the time) saw the Lego-inspired video for 'Fell In Love With A Girl'. He loved the video and the song running behind it. That's pretty much it.

I had a little money to spend one day at a Borders. After perusing the paperback fiction I saw White Blood Cells on sale and without ever hearing a single song I bought it. Before I got home I had finished 4 or 5 tracks in the car and I loved it. Even with that high praise, that album, their third, would end up being my least favorite of theirs.

I had my top three favorite band in a lock for years. Beastie Boys, Beatles, Pearl Jam. Everything else at the time was 4^th place or less. It was unshakable. Especially the top 2, which had not changed since I was 17.

Within a few years, The White Stripes bumped the Beatles! I'm not kidding. And I think with one more killer album they would have nailed the top spot.

But it won't happen. Jack called it quits. Although he is the band and Meg was an assistant to the sound, it was this specific collaboration that had the most spice and the most depth of almost anything I have ever heard.

That's right. This band was closer to the perfect sound for me. Raw, in the moment, blues-driven and playful. That is my favorite flavor of music. Jack White would record an album in week or two at most. The Beatles did the same. So did Led Zeppelin. The idea was to capture the initial raw energy of a song and not burden it with eighteen months of remixing and production. I saw them twice live (I saw two other White bands as well) and the feeling was just awe. A master rock guitarist, flipping a guitar behind his back to play the organ or the big xylophone thing in 'The Nurse', belting out blues tunes and punk...it was all I wanted in a show or a showman.

He'll be around in other projects and band to be sure. I'll see him again live. But some little piece will always be missing. Its hard to describe it, but the color scheme will always be black, red, and white.

The Szekely's and Losers Show

2011-02-01T20:01:00.000-08:00

Show No. 75.

Yes, to the right is a real-life superhero-ish guy named Phoenix Jones. Not the same pizazz as Kick-Ass; but what he lacks in friends like Hit-Girl he makes up for in not being at all fictional.

***

I want so very much to market myself in this world, why do those instincts and/or learned skills escape me? Its not just my little show. I'd like to just be a little more out there in this world, or in this town at least. I propose a new institution where people with talent or ideas or a very attractive spark are teamed up with business-savvy people whose skills are in the art of getting stuff done. Oh, the money that could be negotiated.

***

I've been listening to a a lot of music I liked when I was 11. What does that mean? Besides a lot of Hall and Oates, of course.

Enjoy.

-jim

The She Shouldn’t Have To, Should She Show

2011-01-25T15:52:00.000-08:00

74th show.

Juli Fields was the actress that played Susan; Ali's friend in the 1984 epic cable mainstay, The Karate Kid. I had a problem with this chick even as a young lad who had never heard the phrase 'bro's before ho's' or the stereotype of women going to the bathroom together.

But something about this girl, maybe her tone or her voice, or her 80's face always got under my skin. She gave Daniel-san so much crap for what? For what? Sure he wasn't blonde like Johnny and all his All-Valley douchebag buddies but that's why Elisabeth Shue was into him! He was different. Oddly charming--he could paint decks and wash cars like nobody's business.

Everyone has a quote movie, and this one was Dylan's. So please enjoy this movie-laden podcast. Now remove all verbs from your sentences, assume the crane position and get yourself a body bag.

Enjoy.

The Zombified Boba Fett Show

2011-01-18T17:23:00.000-08:00

A real tear-jerker. Trust me.

I know I've seen this dude before.

Here you go. I recorded this with Matt about a week ago. Shuffling things up.

I got to thinking that its about time I consider this my one and only art form. I really haven;t succeeded at anything else, and that includes podcasting, but I have stuck with this for quite some time. I guess when you plug away at something week after week with almost no feedback and barely any audience to speak of; yet you still come back and do it...that is...something adjacent to...an art form...?

***

The Jeopardy Online test is coming back around. I will test for the fifth time in 3 or 4 years in February. For some reason; perhaps some vestige of hope from childhood, I believe deep down inside my gut that my knowledge of history, sports, science, pop culture and all things cartoon will pay off one day. Still waiting.

***

Watch 'Bob's Burgers'. The Mrs. and I have laughed out loud many times.

Chips ahoy,
jim

The Regularly Nuclear Reservoir Show

2011-01-10T18:22:00.000-08:00

Donovan, eating the boys' faces off.

First show of the year. Got Dylan to my pod-corner a few days before Christmas. Donovan was a bit of a stain, but he was was suffering from only one person paying attention to him instead of five. Dylan is no fan of slobber, so he tries to keep his distance from the dog, and I can't help but laugh because I'm sadistic.

RIP Dick Winters.

Enjoy.

Here Again?

2010-12-30T19:13:00.000-08:00

I can't decide how to pretty up my website! I am not a visual person. However, I am exceedingly lazy when it comes to such details so I went back and funkified this blog to make it the Shouts From The Lawn Somewhat Temporary Home Page.

I have links to old shows and I'll most likely update this way to the rare few of you who actually care. New show links will be posted by date; and any details, pics or bric-a-brac I think of I'll paste in here. For funsies. That's what this is about, right? Funsies. The new caramel coated snack treat.

I've gone off the rails a bit.

New shows start January 12.

Scratch Pad Stage

2010-03-08T16:41:00.000-08:00

I have very little experience writing jokes to say onstage, but that is not to say I have no experience at all.

Many years ago, back before our country completely turned into the Hatfields vs. the McCoys, I did a little stand up back in Orlando. I had a notebook full of very hacky jokes and observations that I kept with me at all times. I never knew when a little comic gem would come to me and I had to write it down at that moment, for fear of losing to the ether. "7-11's are lame!" "'Nub' is a funny word!"

One day I took a trip downtown on a bus and while i roamed the street seemingly looking for a much-needed job I found a little theater that had open mic nights. I came back the next week to see the show as a patron, then I came back with 3-5 minutes of knee-slapping hilarity. It actually went well.

This time around, when I'm older and I take up more space, not much has changed. Well, that's a fat lie. A lot has changed. I've learned a lot about my style and what I want to talk about. But the gathering of material is similar. Also, a blatant lie.

I've had opportunities to at least try out this material out loud on the podcasts, if not to all the unfortunate humans that interact with me in my life.

Here's the thing. the material has to be good, but you also have to car about it at the time. At least at this stage in the game. The 'I don't know what I'm doing' stage.

I have a bit about the Y2K scare that I like. Its old but I can tie it in with the 2012 nonsense that's floating around out there. I have to hammer out some fish out of water stuff. Being from Florida could actually be an asset for once.

I've planted these in the podcasts but never tried to whittle them down. Oi.

If the set is as entertaining as this blog entry, I'm screwed.

You Should Never Do This. (Or Should You?)

2010-02-27T20:10:00.000-08:00

This rhino has no business being here.

I thought I bailed on this thing for good.

I have used any and all of my creative energy (i.e. complaining about minutiae) for my Shout From The Lawn podcast. I've enjoyed the results. But recently, through genuine introspection, therapy and and countless days staring out a window; and after a lifetime of putting things off, I have discovered that I need to venture out.

So after 16 years or so I am going back to stand-up comedy. By that I mean, hitting the half dozen or so places in Portland that actually have open mic nights.

Normally I would advise against anyone who would ever write down their intentions. Its almost always a mistake. Your failure is now shared with everyone you blurted your half brained cockamamie ideas to. You should always reports on events after they happen. Take that, cable news.

But sometimes you just don't care. Its succeed or bust and bust doesn't hurt that much.

So why write about it in here? No reason. Its up. I'd like to chronicle things as they happen: First hone down a few sets. I have to scrape the good material from my podcasts, and turn the switch on in my head that sniffs out the funny. Its usually on, but now I have kicked into oversniff.

I'll also include when I sample the locations as a patron. This sounds uninteresting, and it is. But I haven't gone out in any adventurous capacity since Clinton was president. ('Member those days...ahhhh....) I've been in work and dad mode for a very long time.

Its just like The Natural, except I'm not really a natural. And there's no Robert Redford or Glenn Close. Or baseball. And it doesn't take place in the thirties. And there is no sign of Wilford Brimley anywhere.

Finally, I'll detail the show. I'm pretty scared about it, but I was when I was 22. Kinda makes me feel 22.

I'm sure I'll write other things in here. I think I feel it again. But podcast first, because it actually costs me a few bucks.

Concession.

2009-08-16T15:36:00.001-07:00

Holden at the coast, May 2009

Because of the podcast, most of my ideas have been funneled into talking fodder. If its quasi-socialist rants or jokes about my fellow man, the bulk of my creativity is channeled to a spoken-word format.

It bothered me for a few months. I wanted to write; I had that old familiar itch to knock out 400 to 500 words and put everything in a concise order for my desired effect. Then, I got over it. I love to talk. Having a podcast with a listenership of nearly 10 sets of ears is a lot of fun and it is closer to what I think I’m supposed to be doing.

But I can’t give up writing, man. I have to put something down. So this will have to be a bit more bloggy. The stuff I used to primarily avoid with this site will now take front and center. It is, after all, its intended purpose.

I have tomatoes. No kidding. With a grand total of about $22.50 three months ago, we have five species of tomatoes, some cilantro, thyme and basil in our backyard. It’s kinda cool, and my favorite part is that is took nearly no effort at all. I had jalapenos and carrots that didn’t make it, but I chalk that up to me not knowing what the hell I’m doing. Next year, we are going balls to the wall with berry bushes, green onions and I’m going to quadruple the amount of cilantro. I won’t be happy until I can make my own salsa without leaving the house. Man, if we could only get avocado going…

Speaking of veggies, Amy and I frequent the tiny Hillsboro Farmer’s Market to grab some greens and also to eat the best Mexican food I’ve had out here. While I’m there, I always notice the older guys strolling around there with their wives. I wonder to myself whether or not I’ll end up morphing into them ten to twenty years from now. These guys are all the same. Super boney with a beard. Mostly balding; shorts and sandals are mandatory. They have a grin and they don’t look worried about a damn thing. I hope I can turn into one of those dudes because they look healthy. Except that they probably are into smooth jazz and Steely Dan; which I just can’t handle no matter how hard I try.

Back soon; because coming up with this crap is easy….

Bloggy July Notes

2009-07-20T21:42:00.000-07:00

As I slowly percolate into the steamier months of summer, I have to break for at least a makeshift post.

The pic above is what my kids do on the Fourth of July, just before we light off our backyard fireworks display. What are they doing, you ask? Well they are reenacting the death scene from "A Midsummer Night's Dream" of course; with Nick handling most of the meatier action. That kid can project.

Then there is this pic:

That is Nick in Ashland, Oregon, home of the world -renowned Oregon Shakespeare Festival. It sits in a valley 14 miles from the California border. We watched "Much Ado About Nothing" the first night, then walked the streets of Ashland, noting the Bard-themed establishments. My faves: 'Juliet's Massages' and 'CD or not CD'.

And now, as the days are longer and brighter, and my cheffy spouse awaits the rebirth of a new restaurant (She is not used to being home so much. Strange, I know)...we tick away the hours reading and rewatching movies to pass the time.

I am podcasting and I'm nearing my goal of 25 straight weeks of posting. Please give a listen and recommend to a friend. (A friend that isn't me.) I'm actually getting better as things go on.

Well, I'm going to knuckle down through August and try to muster some writing discipline. Ahh...elusive discipline...

Until then...

Summertime Blues (The Who’s Live at Leeds version)

2009-06-07T13:23:00.000-07:00

Summer is to creativity as a newborn baby is to a decent night’s sleep.

I have never been able to muster up a ton of original thoughts from May to August. In Florida, I had a wonderfully convenient excuse. I was too damn hot. Hot = grumpy, so I was never in the mood.

Fine, that worked. Once I understood that my creative amusement park ride is a roller coaster and not a merry-go-round, I accepted it with little trepidation. That is how I evidently roll. I have big bursts of energy followed be long droughts of wondering what I should do with myself.

Than I came to Oregon and I had to readjust. The summers are warm and not so damn hot. I began to posit a calendar of uninterrupted creativity. From January to December; NFL postseason to NFL regular season. I could write (and podcast) and feel like I was inching toward the unreachable something of my life every day of the year. Nice.

But that is the term. Nice. This time it related to the weather. In Florida you could skip the entire summer and still be treated to “nice” weather. (the general collective definition of nice weather is sunny and warm.) However, up here, it takes the first four months of gray and wet to get to spring and summer,, and for some reason the entire region wants to get out there and enjoy it. Get out! Go! Get some sun, see the ocean, go to a park, talk a walk, go to the mountains, buy some strawberries.

Damn them. They’re correct. I should live first. Check.

So creatively, I slow down. I need input. I read a little more. I do more things after work. I just do more wandering and wondering.

So less writing. I can’t help it. I wish I was a machine like some of my favorite writers but there’s just no mileage when there is no gas in the tank. Crapola.

Of course, when autumn arrives, and the nose senses a distinct thinning of the once sultry, warm air; when the trees begin to pout and the neighborhood kids are busy inside, I am part of the invisible parade again. The days shorten and we huddle in our own circles of light; mashing keyboards or scratching in oversized sketch pads. We transform experience and inspiration and add a touch of cultural rip-offs to produce a tasty warm plate of whatever-the-hell once more.

But for today, sandals and sweet corn.

My Morning Racket

2009-05-18T17:57:00.000-07:00

Confession: I am a morning person. I don’t know why I feel the urge to apologize, but there you have it. It’s what I am; and if I am to have another few decades alive on Planet Earth I had better start accepting my lot in life.

First, there aren’t two halves of society; the night people and the morning people. (I avoid the term ‘night owl’ because it’s redundant) As far as I can tell, most people are night people or at least wish to be. The trait is more like handedness. Most people are righties and there are some that are lefties. Just like lefties, the world is not designed for morning people. It is a place that objects and sometimes derides us for what we are.

We did not choose to wake up when the sun is low or the sky is still pink with dawn colors. It just happens. I wake up and within a few minutes I want to get shit done. I know, it’s unusual. I’ve heard it all before. I want to sniff the thin, crisp air outside and I want to pour a cup of hot coffee when the house is welcoming, but still quiet. At least on the weekends.

On workdays I’m just as miserable as anyone else.

If I had a long lost Uncle Filbert that willed me 256 million dollars, I would still get up early every day. I want to make that clear. I know you would sleep until noon everyday. This is not a choice for me. I just Get Up Early. It is no admonition against the night people. I just don’t need a ton of sleep, and it feels nice on a subconscious level to be up when the day begins.

I think I’ve gone back to bed four or five times in thirty-six years.

There are few practical uses for being a morning person in my life. Were I a dairy farmer or a pastry chef or a drive-time DJ I would feel wonderful. For me, I get a little time to reflect. Granted I do this most of the day been when I am busy, the morning is my special time. I arrange my brain. I don’t loathe having to get out of bed like I’m being torn from the womb. I guess there is one advantage.

When I was little, I would always beat everyone in the house to the kitchen or to the TV first. I needed the quiet then. I used to think I was afraid to miss out on something. Maybe there was something interesting or fun happening and I didn’t want to be the schmuck who slept through it all. Later, I shrugged that off. Nothing is ever going on. If anything, I preferred the solitude and getting it in the morning was more sure fire than staying up until 4 a.m. Plus, I got more sleep.

Some people make gagging noises when I admit this. I’m just saying, there are a few of us out there. I could never life a thrilling Metropolitan nightlife. Me get so sleepy. I can roll out of bed, maybe a little groggy, but get things moving when I have to. Count on me when its time to get to the airport or get a road trip together. You’ll be the one cursing the clock, hair frazzled, incoherent, leaning against the front doorway to catch just ten seconds more of precious, precious sleep.

I’ll be the guy with the fresh doughnuts. Sorry.

Ubetta Gitchyo Accolades

2009-05-05T19:18:00.000-07:00

How about I refrain from pointing out absurdities and foibles for a minute and write about three of the many things that did not disappoint me. So many times we get let down by experiences because of expectations or hype or someone’s opinion. But every once in awhile, they are damn right.

The Grand Canyon – We stopped for a few hours when we moved cross country. It was clear day, not too hot but completely clear. This unbelievable drop appeared out of nowhere after we entered the park. I guess that is the first impression. There was no buildup. It’s not like mountains before a mountain range. You are teased with foothills and tastes of what’s to come. The Grand Canyon was a shock. Pull up, park and walk ten feet to a 6,000 foot drop.

Birds flew a thousand feet below us. We could see Utah from our perch on the south ridge. It was tough to decipher tree from shrub and path from the Colorado River. Everything you have ever heard about how striking the experience is rings true. Even for someone raised at sea level with an unfriendly relationship with heights, I could not stop breathing it in. Within about twelve hours from that moment, most of my family would be stricken with a crippling stomach flu that would ruin our entire stay in Las Vegas, but for that morning in Arizona, it was worth it. Nearly.

Beck – Odelay – This year was 1996. Music was officially in the toilet and I was stuck at a thankless boring job. (Whoa! Déjà vu!) I read in both Spin and Rolling Stone that that dude who put out “Loser” in 1994 released an album that was actually good, top to bottom. Not just good, but 10/10 and five stars –type good. I could not believe it. I had to buy the thing and hear it for myself. (This is back before everyone downloaded or stole their music.) I popped it into my stereo at home and was instantly floored. It was a Beck version of Paul’s Boutique; not just because of the same production team, but for the boldness and textured sound. And, for me, it came out of nowhere. I like that. Surprise goes a long way with me.

I listened to it three times in a row the next day at work (on my Discman!). I never do that. It is still one of my top ten favorites, probably in part because I never saw it coming.

Being a father – Okay, a little corny. I could do a few essays on this, to be sure. There are a bunch of unexpected perks to being a dad. I’ll discuss one.

When you are a nerd like me, you love to know things. Its what we do. We collect and interpret data. Most of us like to share, and few of us are any good at it. Once your child becomes accustomed to you knowing some answers, they ask questions. I love to be asked shit. I love it. I know the answers a lot of times, too. When I don’t, my kids run to the computer to fill me in. Sure , it can get burdensome at times. I know I’ll miss that when they have the audacity to grow up and move out.

Like today. I’m taking the boys to see Star Trek for an outing this weekend. They have no idea what those shows or movies are about other than “that dude with the pointy ears has green blood.” Now I’m not a huge Trek fan, but they ran the movies on cable in the 80’s enough for me to learn quite a bit. So I was able to fill them in to a major American cultural bookmark. It’s like showing them their first sunset or dolphin or helicopter, but with more Klingons.

At War With the Should’s and Supposed-To’s

2009-04-28T17:14:00.000-07:00

Part 1

For what feels like millennia, I have engaged in battle with two of the foulest, most irritating tribes I have ever encountered. They are cunning, ingenious, slick and well-entrenched. They work in tandem and sometimes apart; but their primary objective is to subvert my wishes and undermine my already war-weary confidence. The war is ongoing. The battlefield is inside my skull.

The Should’s chief weapon is morality. (And fear. Fear and morality…) This faction barrages me with questions. Am I spending each moment correctly? Do I make enough money? Does my life appear the way it should…

The Should’s infect the brain. I am obviously on the wrong path. I’m not where everyone else is. I am wrong.

My position as a father and a citizen and a husband and a human being at thirty-six years of age means something. These aren’t just facts to digest; they each have their own moral imperatives which make the entire sandwich impossible to swallow. My defense is simple. I remind the Should’s that they don’t really exist. They are from a fantastic world of anal-retentive lame-o’s and worrisome mothers.

The Supposed-to’s are a close cousin and use a lot of the same methods. However, they also employ the world around me. The advertisements and cinematic themes and premises and images and taglines. They are after your wallet and the collateral damage is guilt and a horrible self-image.

What the Supposed-to’s can’t stand are people who can see through them. They are fairly transparent so it is not difficult if you inspect them thoroughly. After that, you can punch a hole right through the center as if they were soft pizza dough.

Part 2

I will not worry about swine flu. I didn’t worry about monkey pox or avian flu. I didn’t worry about E coli or the West Nile virus either. I didn’t worry about space junk, lead-laced Chinese toys or bad spinach. I didn’t stop eating peanut butter, lettuce, chicken or pork for any reason.

I never sweated SARS or radon or asbestos. I never checked the threat level (but who did?). I never, not for a single second, thought anything was going to happen on Y2K.

Why? It’s simple. There are some things in this world that are binary. Act or Do Not Act. I cannot control any of those things aside from the same precautions I take on a daily basis. I cannot act, so I don’t worry. Years ago, it nearly killed me, and it was all for nothing. Worrying is dumb shit we do in this country when we feel helpless and without control. All it does is keep you watching cable news and the commercials in between. It ravages our stomachs with unnecessary acid buildup.

Do yourself a favor. Don’t watch the news. I get about five minutes a week of coverage that isn’t on Comedy Central. Don’t tell me I’m irresponsible. I get what I need and I’m not a glutton. The rest of the time is spent with fiction, literature and comedy.

Why? Because the Supposed-to’s and the Should’s are telling me otherwise. I can’t let them win.

Is That What I Sound Like?

2009-04-21T18:05:00.000-07:00

I have four podcast shows whacked up and ready to go and a bunch more waiting. It feels good; but that didn’t stop me from the opportunity to self-criticize. Yay, brain!

I’ve been hearing my voice through my headphones during editing and mixing of these podcasts, and it is a unique experience. I always used to tell people to consider writing in a journal because you may have a great memory for events that happened in your life, but that kind of private reflection (keep it OFF the internet, please!) written down helps you remember how you used to think. Although the podcast is purely for fun and entertainment, I get a sense of how I sound to the rest of the world. Since it’s not an act but a conversation, you would be surprised how you speak and even more surprisingly, who you sound like.

First, I thought I was over the word “like”. It was thrown around every third word when I was a kid and it is littered in American speech. But somewhere in my mid-20’s I heard myself say it three times in a sentence. I immediately sent my brain into exterminator mode and it had orders to search and destroy the word like from my vocabulary as often as possible. Well, it’s still around. It flops out when your eyes roll up and you are searching for the perfect word to say or you are accessing the ol’ memory banks. Its filler and I can’t believe I still say it so much.

The other word is way. I think its in there because when you are trying to be funny it is a game of extremes, and that word is such a basic element of superlatives. Way cool, way funny, way stupid. Yeah, it is way stupid. Gotta work on that.

The strangest thing to hear is my approach to humor. I’ve followed comedians for so long I can tell often where the inflections come from during certain stories and jokes. Inflections to humor are like guitar styles to rock bands. There are hundreds of ways to get there, but everyone can recognize who paved the roads. I can tell if someone listened to Dennis Miller in the eighties, or Bill Hicks or Chris Rock or David Cross or even Larry the Cable Guy. So my brain is a mush of 100 comedians and I never know who will creep to the surface. Even when it’s my dad.

It is difficult to deny that at least 30% of my funny comes from my dad and his brash, brazen approach to being funny. Bitter pill to swallow, but there you go.

One more little observance. This feels good. To speak into a mike means you are sure of what you are doing and saying. You must have a modest amount of confidence. You can write without confidence and fool people. I’ve done it many times. But this is nothing like writing. It feels more like doing.

I Watched TV My Whole Life And I Turned Out TV

2009-04-14T18:45:00.000-07:00

I saw the 348^th article today about how awful TV is to our kids and how it affects everything from weight to motor skills to socialization to creativity. I’ve been reading these since I can remember and I think most of the information is correct. TV sucks. I was severely addicted to it for most of my life, and our relationship now is frosty.

I thought about writing a piece about how I struggled with my bond to TV, but that is a well-trodden path. So are bits about the decline of TV or the perceived increase in quality in some areas while others are slipping into shit soup. All valid and worth talking about. But I just don’t feel it. I also would hate to defend TV because I am sure it has hurt my life more than helped.

Maybe, just for today, I’ll talk about the nice stuff it has given me.

First, I’ll get the maudlin section over with. I was painfully shy. And, on top of that, as I’ve just realized; I was afraid of everything. I watched TV because I was scared of life and the world and playing baseball with kids who could play baseball better than me. I was home alone all of the time and the house gets very quiet with no TV on. Its part of the reason my TV is on right now and I’m nowhere near it. I used it to drown out arguments and painful silences and everything. Me, Don Knotts, Underdog and Abe Vigoda.

Because this took place mostly in the eighties and cable really wasn’t anything, I watched a lot of TV that was not intended for me. There were movies and sitcoms aimed at my parents and my grandparents. But it was all that was on.

However, I did get something out of it. If I were outside in a giant field sitting in amazement of junebugs and butterflies this would have never happened. As for me, I developed a curiosity in our culture. It was a strange porthole for such a little boy who didn’t know why he could remember everything his teachers sometimes could not. What were all these old words and phrases they said that no one used? Black and white movies were old movies, but they also spoke differently. The women dressed differently. Was that how they really dressed or was it just for the TV? Why did that joke get a laugh? What is a “diaphragm” and what is a “bigot”?

I still contend that Bugs Bunny has more to do with my love of history and timelines than any other influence. He was bringing up references that were before my mother was born. I knew this because I figured out Roman numerals and they appeared at the opening credits of each cartoon. WWII, the Army, music, political figures and timing. Man, Bugs’ timing was Groucho Marx’s timing and it was near perfect. I learned to speak more maturely. Didn’t help much in fourth grade but I liked it.

Speaking of school, when I eventually clung to a few other TV nerdy types we had a shared experience to talk about. It was the cartoons and the crappy movies we watched that helped to bond us. That’s why Trekkie conventions and the like exist. It’s exactly like a football game. Shared love for a thing. There are costumes, toys and snacks. And we’re all tubby! God bless this country.

I read a lot. I liked to ride my bike and took a ton of walks. I wasn’t homebound. But I was seriously addicted. Luckily the intended audience for TV shifted somewhere in the early nineties and I was able to slowly wean myself away. I felt awful for a very long time and considered it a waste of an existence. Then, I had to accept that TV was there for me. It wasn’t great all the time, and it hurt my eyeballs. But when the house got too quiet and the power wasn’t out I could turn it and on and at least feel like I was connected to something.

Big Fat Loud Announcement

2009-04-13T19:33:00.001-07:00

After a month or so of screwing around with editing, recording and trying to understand what an XML sheet is, I’ve finally done it.

I have a podcast!

What the hell is a podcast, you ask? Well if you have iTunes or an iPod, you probably know. They are free shows you can automatically download to your mp3 player for fun and enjoyment. It’s talk radio without commercials. Adam Carolla, Ricky Gervais and Kevin Smith have their own, and now I have one. Its called “Shouts From The Lawn” to tie in with my whole grumpy guy with my fist shaking…wearing dark socks motif.

I interview friends and family and mostly attempt to be funny. I cover a bunch of stuff that isn’t fit for a nice, albeit tangential essay for this site. I want to shoot for one a week, but who knows?

So download, listen and enjoy. Forward any reactions, questions or suggestions to shoutsfromthelawn@gmail.com. Also, one favor. Spread it around! It is way more fun to do this type of thing in front of a crowd. An unseen, silent crowd…but its still a crowd.

(Is the tone of this thing uncharacteristically gleeful? I know, it’s weird.)

Instructions:

For those with an iPod and/or those with iTunes – Got to the iTunes Store where you would browse or buy music. Put ‘Shouts From The Lawn’ in the search bar and my podcast will pop right up. Subscribe (for free) and your iPod’s default setting should automatically update when new episodes come up. If it doesn’t, you can adjust it or just go back to my page in iTunes and “get” each episode.

For those with other MP3’s or want to listen to the podcast on the computer – Bookmark or add this link to your favorites. I will up date this page on my site when I update iTunes. I’ll have a list going and links you can click on. Same show.

Also, the cool graphic for the podcast was made by Kaity Curry. She also suggested that “View From The Lawn” be changed to “Shouts”. She was right, dammit. And you know how I love to name things.

Thanks. And spread the word!

Please Refer To The "Ascertain" Sketch By The Kids In The Hall

2009-04-09T16:40:00.000-07:00

Paying attention to language in our culture can be frustrating. My advice is to refrain and roll with it. Because if you are paying attention, you’ll begin to notice that we love to grab and hold onto words that we think sound cool, make us feel more unique, or for some intelligent for saying them.

I had my fill of 80’s slang as a kid and I participated, as all kids do. But somewhere in the early 90’s I noticed that adults were using slang intended for their kids in regular conversation. This has to be a first in America. I can’t imagine my grandmother in the seventies calling things “groovy” or “solid” or “far-out”. However Katie Couric used “What’s the 411?” and “True that, peeps” and sounded borderline delusional.

I don’t want to get into slang as much as I want to write about the love affairs Americans have with a few terms. Sometime in the early nineties, the word random hit a spike in usage and has never looked back. For my first twenty years I used random maybe three times and heard it used (outside of math class) about four times. It was always in the phrase “at random” or “randomly”. It always was a description of mathematical possibilities. But somewhere along the line it became a synonym for strange and unique and a replacement for “out of the blue”. Although it sounds bizarre to me to refer to someone as “a random guy” or to use the phrase “How random!” I guess I was cool with it. Except, we do have the words strange, unique, odd, suddenly, stranger, et al; and the phrases “out of the blue” and “one of a kind”. All of these have been pushed aside for the word random and to me anyway, it’s not that much of a word. That one has clearly left the barn and is on its own in the world.

A few more word phrases are out there pretending they are the shit. Paradigm is another word people use far too much; particularly because it basically means situation, which is in itself a marshmallow word. Fierce is completely sucked dry. There is a phrase in business right now that is so perversely anti-English, illogical and clunky I hate to even repeat it. When there is an attribute or a function that can be added to a process or a program, it is commonly referred to as a “Value add”. What the ever-loving hell does that mean?

Instead of the phrase “Does this add value?” they say “Is it a value add?” See, this is what happens when MBA’s and computer science majors are running the show. All documents sound like a sixth grader wrote them because those people could not care any less about syntax, flow, coherence and basic grammar. It’s simple. Value is a meaningless, fat, stupid word. It needs friends to give it value. (See?) Try these on for size next time you want to butcher a work document: Increased value, decreased value, valuable, hindrance, loss, gain, and worth. And what about the intent behind the atrocious phrase value add? That is what we English speakers call a benefit. Use that instead. It has that sweet little “bene-” which mean “good”. Plus, it doesn’t sound mega-retarded.

Also, you can’t just let the word “add” out there all by itself. It doesn’t look natural.

Can a word be wrangled back in before it runs wild out there in lazy speaker land? I wish it were so. I’d go after robust. When I was a kid, robust was used to describe Maxwell House coffee beans. That’s it. Some IT guy a few years ago probably thought he was a bad-ass when he described the new version of a program as “more robust than version 2.0” or something and robust was off to the races of over usage. Now it’s everywhere describing everything.

I kind of like robust. But the problem is that when it’s out there in every third paragraph and every fourth conversation it loses its strength. It could mean something but it probably will never have a fighting chance. That is a shame. It’s a strong sounding word; it’s powerful and impressive, striking and imposing. All of which are synonyms for robust. They already float around our very fierce, robust, random language.

Above and Below The Influence

2009-03-30T19:03:00.000-07:00

Here’s where I got the idea I’m about to rip off.

There has been an argument in my brain the last few months about what to teach my kids. I want them to experience their own journey and learn what they need to on their own. A lot of parents are like that these days. They have an enormous amount of self doubt about religion and morality and they aren’t sure if they are the best resource for a child to use.

The problem is, that is, in itself, influencing them.

Your kids learn from you and no matter what happens, they will be influenced. You can’t stop it. Unless you live in a bubble and never speak to the, your kids will get a pretty accurate idea of the things you treasure. We want our kids to live free of our screw-ups and failures but they are human. We are supposed to influence them. What we do is try to be honest. No matter what comes out of your mouth, it is slanted toward your own belief system. So, do you believe in your crap or don’t you?

My kids know I do not subscribe to religion at all. I never had a meeting. They just know. They know that their mother never had a subscription and that mine lapsed when I was about 12 or so. There’s no harm in that. It is the truth. But I can’t hide it from them, no matter what I do.

So I use the influence to teach them respect and tolerance. I believe that friendship and kindness to your fellow man, especially your loved ones, trumps everything. It is bigger than competition, money, drive, will and even religion. So it goes: “Believe what you want, but don’ be a prick to anyone who believes otherwise.”

Even the little things are an issue with me. My sons are getting into movies and TV and music now and they basically like all the things I like. I don’t mandate that; they just are using me as a starting point. There is a reason I have shelves full of books and 400 CD and records. I want them to explore and have a nice base to jump off from. They are starting to weed through the collection and poop on this and that. It’s what they are supposed to do. I just served as kindling for their intellect. Not a bad gig.

Years ago, the father would dictate the lives of his kids. The jobs, the school, the address and how he spoke and carried themselves in public. We are now a society that doesn’t mind individualism. It’s nice to think you are unique, even for a short period of time. Soon enough we all learn that everyone has the same problems and our ideas aren’t all that new or interesting or poignant. Getting there is what enables us to crawl out of bed in the morning. It is the hope that one day we will figure all this dumb shit out.

Here is the big difference between Eric’s story with his little Drew in the backseat and my conversations with my kids versus the typical scenarios when we were little boys: If we opened our mouths in the car about God, the metric system, whether Mello Yello was a good beverage or if Keith Moon was the best drummer, we would get something along the lines of: Shut the hell up back there, I’m trying to drive.

Difference? We listen.

Acclimation

2009-03-26T16:58:00.000-07:00

Adjusting to the weather of Oregon from a life spent in Florida took me about a week and a half. Okay, truthfully, I needed to run through all of the seasons, but I was comfortable at the end of the first week. Trading the humidity and sweltering heat for breezes and air I could breathe was not difficult.

Soon I had to adjust to the prices of groceries and not pumping my own gas. Fine. The traffic was more tolerable and the layout of Portland and the west side was easy to understand. All that aside, I had to come to grips with my biggest challenge: the People.

I spent my last twenty-five years in a place where I never felt welcome. Not one day. My sense of environment was always somewhere else; in a third area. Not my birthplace in Upstate New York, or where I grew up in the panhandle of the American South. I always imagined I’d find a place where I could have what I wanted. Green like Florida but with actual weather, like New York. But not as much snow. And less red-state rednecks. And fewer tourists, because I tired of them a long time ago.

Then I moved here in 2005. And I got all of that shit.

The people here are different. Those out there who feel that people are the same no matter where you go are just wrong. People are like homemade spaghetti dinners. Everybody has the same basic ingredients, but it all ends up on the plate a little different than the neighbors. Oregonians are as laid back as human beings can possibly be without forgetting how to breathe. The angst and tension I felt on the east coast my entire life just is not here. They don’t have the same motivations. They aren’t pushy. They aren’t fast.

They are supportive and mostly broke. They have pride in their community but they don’t brag. They like sports but they refrain from being pricks about everything. As my friend Dylan pointed out, they are friendlier but not as polite. Politeness is what you need in a society that is tense. It is the grease that keeps the gears running smoothly. If everybody is cool with everything, you are less likely to get in a fist fight with a jerkoff whose Nike’s you just stepped on. It’s unexpected and refreshing.

The problem? Well, I’m not cool with everything yet.

I do find myself wanting people to move their asses in traffic. Everyone here is a safe, conscientious driver who coasts along at the speed limit. Well, I’m not used to that and sometimes I want to get somewhere! Not every day is a leisurely trip to the city park to knock around the hacky sack!

Also, I grew up in a place where the Klan had footholds and there were abortion rallies and protests about gays visiting Disney. Here, there are more transvestites and cross dressers than you can shake a genuine or prosthetic stick at. I’ve worked alongside both men with C-cups and ladies with full Billy Mays beards. Rainbow stickers, marches and gathering in the center of town. And everyone from the old woman throwing crumbs to the ducks to the young Kindergarten teacher has a tattoo. Somewhere.

They are accepting here. They don’t judge anything. Unless you try to build a Wal-Mart too close.

I love all of this. I want to eat it and digest it and breathe it in and be a part of me. I want my kids to grow up in this atmosphere.

But, what I really wish for is to feel like part of this place. I didn’t like being a Yankee in the south. I don’t wish to be a foreigner anymore.

I guess I should ask around. They may have already accepted me.