Monday, May 10, 2004

Fog Blog

Dew shimmies on the grass in the windy mornings. Fog covers our cars in the mornings, burns off the roads as we hit the streets, fringes the mountains long after it has risen from our fields and footpaths.

The air gathers up the rain and the river. It swells like a tic on the dog, creeps like the red roadside poison ivy in the sun.

Under its scrunchie my thick red hair grows heavy, a sponge. Its moisture presses, a sauna at the hidden nape of my neck and along my ponytail-smothered spine. I am stale and sour with sweat by noon.

Resistance is futile. Showers are useless. Some days it rains. It's never enough.

Thank god for music in cool basement studios. As always, here's tonight's playlist.

Tributary 5/10/04

Bob Dorough -- Too Much Coffee Man
Phish -- Cavern
Skavoovie and the Epitones -- Old Man Of The Mountain
Billy Bragg w/ Wilco -- My Flying Saucer
Manu Chao -- Me Gustas Tu
Negativland -- Yellow, Black and Rectangular
Ben Harper -- Steal My Kisses

-- storybreak: Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Keller Williams -- Best Feeling
Sarah Harmer -- Almost
Tony Furtado Band -- Miles Alone
Tish Hinojosa -- Hey Little Love
The Jayhawks -- Save It For A Rainy Day
They Might Be Giants -- Particle Man

-- storybreak: Where The Wild Things Are

Acoustic Syndicate -- Pumpkin And Daisy
Lucy Kaplansky -- Hole In My Head
Mark Erelli -- Little Sister
Alison Krauss -- 9 to 5
Indigo Girls -- Galileo
Norah Jones w/ Dolly Parton -- Creepin' In
Jorma Kaukonen -- Waiting For A Train

-- storybreak: The Giving Tree

Patty Griffin -- Mad Mission
Jonatha Brooke -- War
Timbuk 3 -- Born To Be Wild
Girlyman -- The Shape I Found You In
Juliana Hatfield -- Slow Motion
Deb Talan -- Forgiven

You've been listening to Tributary, your ten to midnight Monday night show here on WNMH 91.5 FM -- the station that blows Deerfield out of the water.

posted by boyhowdy | 10:16 PM | 0 comments

Sunday, May 09, 2004

Blog Tired

The last month of any school year is a awash in a swamp of pomp and circumstance, surely. At the elite prep school, however, the sheer force of a proud hundred years of history and tradition makes for a nonstop morass of suit and tie evening ceremonies and weekend required events. At some point, the only possible way to make it all fit together is to bull forward, head down, overcaffeinatied and snappish, saving sleep for the impending summer.

It's funny how sudden it comes on. One week you're looking forward to the weekend, and the next you're looking in the mirror for signs of comprehensive system failure under stress on Saturday night -- brought on by Friday night 7-11 dorm duty (and 7-12 tonight), an early Saturday morning buying Prom and Commencement Eve Dinner Dance supplies at Home Depot with event-designer Darcie and the baby, tonight's tech set-up and event stand-by for a trustee slideshow at the high-donor's sea-bass-and-champagne supper, and tomorrow's breakdown of same.

Even the sidetrack to Shelburne Falls for a sweet-scented family walk along the Bridge of Flowers now gloriously in bloom, a gentle lunch in a cafe, a trip the watch the glassblowers and a peek at the Salmon Falls Glacial Potholes fades into the blur of days already.

Tomorrow the girls are taking my in-laws out for Mothers Day while I spend the long afternoon suit-and-tied, chaperoning this year's Sacred Concert. I've got extra classes to teach in the week ahead, and an advisee group yearly hot tubs and sushi outing the following Sunday; Darcie's got to design and implement the decorative concepts for two big events coming up, and a few more AP exams to proctor.

It helps to know that it's almost over, that we've lived through the same final quarter dash five times before. But I hope with all my heart there will be enough time for our little girl in the days and weeks ahead. Summer, and almost three months of full-time homestaying, just the three of us, cannot come too soon.

posted by boyhowdy | 12:49 AM | 0 comments

Friday, May 07, 2004

And That's No Lie

Alex found a good one: a Cornell study that explores tendencies towards falsehood across various media, ultimately determining that students lie less in email than they do in person, and ... lie most on the phone. Neat stuff, social science.

I wonder if the extent to which organic use engenders basic cross-media literacies over time is itself measurable? If the factors are truly isolatable? Knowing how much experience -- and how much of what other factors, too -- equals just how much literacy would allow an exponential formalization of media literacy curricular integration strategies, tied to age and development, and other socio-cultural factors.

In entirely related news, tomorrow afternoon I once again begin a rash of post-midterm 2 day media literacy units in the 9th grade Health classes here at NMH. They've managed to squeeze me in between sexuality and drugs & alcohol, and I think I've got just the segue...

posted by boyhowdy | 12:08 AM | 0 comments

Thursday, May 06, 2004

Feminist Parenting 101

Took Willow to see the ducks at the local community college today after a sushi supper we could ill afford. The cement pond was filled with mostly mallards, too scared to come over, and the kid quickly lost interest; the mated pair of geese under the lone fence-enclosed tree hissed and held her attention for a moment, but not long enough, so we played with spectator's dogs at a nearby junior soccer league scrimmage for a while.

Afterwards in the parking lot, we came across some hulking construction vehicles left deserted and parallel parked in the waning sun, and she perked right up. So Willow and I explored their outer limits, talking trucks and giant wheel treads, while Darcie chatted with sis-in-law Ginny, newly arrived for her late Anatomy class.

I must have done something right, 'cause when we completed the circut and the sisters came into view, Willow proudly announced "Women drive these trucks!" And I get bonus points, too: no one was looking our way, so I treated us both to the sight of her surreptitious and proud behind the steamroller's wheel. Gotta remember to bring the camera next time; one day, when my child is a true free spirit, self-defining sexuality and gender as far as she wants to, that pic of her cranking the black wheel of a bright orange ton-or-so will make her the envy of all her friends.

posted by boyhowdy | 9:45 PM | 0 comments

Wednesday, May 05, 2004

Michael Moore* Is (Still) A Big Fat Idiot

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Michael Moore plays too fast and loose with his facts to be my kind of guy. This time around, he's whining that Disney has shut him down for political reasons. But there's a much easier explanation for why Disney has pulled their backing for the Bush Bashing, and it's the title of today's blogentry.

In trying to see why Moore is both stupid and, ultimately, dangerously so, we need only look at this current silliness more closely. Here's some cut-and-paste from the end of the CNN article:

Moore said he believed the protection of tax cuts was the reason for the media conglomerate's position.

"I would have hoped by now that I would be able to put my work out to the public without having to experience the profound censorship obstacles I often seem to encounter," Moore said in a statement Wednesday.
Moore's response to Disney is telling: in typical Moorean fashion, he throws the word "censorship" as them, making it seem as if he is entitled not just to be heard, but to be promoted. Moore seems to have confused the concept of the right to free speech with some sort of right to be published, promoted, and paid. Automatically, as if a company that stands by and for the whole family should somehow be obliged to support the work of any idiot with a camera and a budget -- where in the constitution does it guarantee Michael Moore's right to get cash from the Mouse? In trying to twist the tables on Disney, he only demonstrates why Disney could never ally themselves with his work.

Note, of course, that the news is primarily focusing on Moore's complaint, not Disney's reponse. The bloggosphere cannot help but groan with those decrying Disney. It helps that big business is so tempting a target; it's easy to imagine Eisner and Bush sitting in those huge photo-op armchairs, plotting the downtrodding of the "little guy."

And people listen to the Moore/Disney meme as it passes by. It joins the growing pile of what-can-we-do at the foot of the stairs, making it just that much harder to get over it and out into the world each day.

Eventually, self-righteousness over accuracy becomes the rallying cry of a doomsday generation. Problems are presented as both solvable and never solved, engendering a generation of, and in, despair and disempowerment.

I'm not going to go so far as to suggest that Michael Moore is the most dangerous man alive. Sowing distrust doesn't hold a candle to those who prey open that distrust, or take advantage of its dark alleyways and vigilante justice. But he frames this world, he and a hundred hundred like him on every side of the political spectrum, blowhards all, from FoxNews to Howard Stern. The real world as it really is -- beautiful and complex and demands caution and trust as a mere premise for survival itself -- fades in the face of the distrust and impotence which are the inevitable result of his manipulation.

In my own private wished-for utopia of media literati and savvy, intuitively best-practice consumers, everyone would see through Moore. Instead of the crown jewel of the sorrowful ranting farleft, he'd be some unheard of blowhard. But as long as he continues to tap into the emotions of the scared, impotent, and insignificant-feeling man on the street, I'm afraid, people will listen -- for who else have they got? Don't worry, though: I'll keep the light on for you.

* Moore has content on his own site about this issue, but here at NAWWAL it is against our link policy to provide easy access to the home pages of crazy, stupid, and/or dangerous people. If you wish to pursue Moore's side more closely, you'll have to find it yourself.

posted by boyhowdy | 3:47 PM | 0 comments

Tuesday, May 04, 2004

Interesting, Good, Funny, Dumb: More Randomalia

Interesting discovery: though both The Onion and her AV sister purport to publish on Wednesdays, the latter actually puts up new content by midday Tuesday. (Yeah, I know -- I'm a satire addict. But Savage Love always rocks, and check out the Lou Barlow and Jon Wurster interviews this week!)

Good news: Darcie fielded a phone call today notifying me that I've won two tickets for this summer's Green River Festival. I had totally forgotten about the seven-for-five raffle tickets purchased at the Rani Arbo and daisy mayhem show a few weekends ago, though now that I think of it, I do remember buying them primarily because no one else had bought any, and I felt sorry for the guy selling them. Now I get to see them again, plus Donna the Buffalo, Gillian Welch, Hot Tuna and more, for the cost of gas and maybe a spot of ice cream from the Herrell's magic bus. Yay me!

Funniest thing I've read in weeks: Beloit College Mindset List: 1918, Adam Underhill's historical parody (via McSweeney's) of those yearly email memes which remind us that kids entering college today don't know what wax lips are, and that they don't know what a Smurf is, and they don't know that Paul McCartney was ever in another band besides the Beatles, and that (supposedly) this is all really, really, sad and funny, because, you know, we're old and they're not.

Also, I am dumb. What, you've got a better word to describe a guy who walks the fifteen minutes home from the dining hall after chairing a Professional Development Committee meeting, walks in the door hoping for a quick little girl kiss before dorm duty, and only then realizes that the car's still in the dining hall lot -- which he should have realized sooner, because he's been jiggling his car keys in his pocket the whole way home? I was late for duty, and, as I didn't have time to grab laundry in my mad dash through the house, will have to go to work naked again tomorrow. Gee, the students should really love that.

posted by boyhowdy | 7:49 PM | 0 comments

Happy Birthday To You

It's my mother's birthday today; I'd post an embarassing picture here, but I can't seem to find any. Please join me in wishing her a happy one, and many more besides. Love you, Mom!

posted by boyhowdy | 12:46 AM | 0 comments

Monday, May 03, 2004

They Call It Stormy Monday
...but Tuesday's twice as bad

Rain and more rain, all day and half of yesterday. Soft and misty, or clicking against the windows in counterpoint to my rapidfire keyboard hunt-and-peck. The humid air infiltrates my clothes and hair, dampening spirits through the skin. The sheets are wet before we get in them. Here and now, in the basement control room, the speakers crackle and throb moistly, and the lights of the board fade in a waterlogged haze.

Thank god for the lightness of radio in the midst of downpour and darkness. As always, here's the music.

Tributary 5/3/04

Bob Dorough -- Too Much Coffee Man
Trout Fishing In America -- Happy To Be Here
De La Soul -- The Magic Number
Michael Franti and Spearhead -- Everyone Deserves Music
J Mascis -- I Want You Bad
Sarah Harmer -- Almost
String Cheese Incident -- Search

-- poembreak: night villanelle --

Jethro Tull -- Stormy Monday Blues
Stevie Ray Vaughan -- The Sky Is Crying
Patty Griffin -- Rain
The Be Good Tanyas -- Rain And Snow
The Biscuit Boys -- Smokin' In The Rain

-- poembreak: bologna sonnet --

Peter Gabriel -- Washing Of The Water
Sarah McLachlan -- Ice Cream
Lucy Kaplansky -- I Had Something
Dan Hicks w/ Brian Setzer and Elvis Costello -- Meet Me On The Corner
Barry White -- Can't Get Enough Of Your Love, Babe
Trey Anastasio -- Alive Again

-- poembreak: in A after midnight --

The Beatles -- I'm Only Sleeping
The Waifs -- London Still
Mark Erelli w/ Kelly Willis -- Compass & Companion
Alison Krauss -- 9 to 5
Dar Williams -- Bought and Sold
Gillian Welch -- I Want To Sing That Rock And Roll
Dave Carter & Tracy Grammer -- Merlin's Lament
Bobby McFerrin & Yo Yo Ma -- J.S. Bach: Air from Orchestral Suite No. 3

You've been listening to Tributary, your ten-to-midnight Monday night show here on WNMH 91.5 F.M., serving Northfield, Gill, Keene and Brattleboro. Radio rules.

posted by boyhowdy | 10:48 PM | 0 comments

Sunday, May 02, 2004

Our Spirits, Ourselves

Up North 91 for church this morning at West Village Meeting House in Brattleboro for the second time in the last few months. Sat next to old college friend Hailey and her new tiny one Madison, just three weeks old; left for a while after the sermon started to get Willow to childcare; came back to find Darcie holding Madison, looking wistful. Later, she lit a candle in front of the congregation and cried a little. As for me, I found it easier to stay away from the baby. I wanted to hold her far too much to be willing to let myself, if that makes any sense.

[Note for Not All Who Wander Are Lost newbies: though I've never really written about it explicitly, mostly because it is but one chapter of our long epic trying-to-have-several-children-but-plagued-by-problems saga, we miscarried several months ago, and have been gradually working with some damn good doctors and nurse midwives to finish off the miscarriage and figure out how to try again. Anyway, that's not what I'm blogging about today.]

Physically, the West Village Meeting House manages to come across as both imposing and organic, stately and grounded all at once. The packed dirt road up to it is twisty, rutted, and impossibly steep, creating a sense of transition appropriate to all its dualities, managing to suggest both higher place and an unfinished and nature-esque sanctuary. Its exterior woodslat and glass forms a tall U, the large function and gathering room on the right, the smaller sanctuary in the middle by the entryway, the nursery and sunday schools on the left. If you came up to visit and we showed you around, you'd enter the building via covered walkway along the inner right, but before you do, you'd be confronted with two signs, instead of the usual one. Because the West Village Meeting House, it turns out, is the longtime home of two Brattleboro area congregations: Shir He-harim, a non-denomination Jewish community with a Reconstructionist bent, and All Souls Church, a Unitarian Universalist community.

Darcie's family attended UU meetings regularly throughout her childhood and adolescence; she has fond memories, and over our lives together has expressed and explained much of her understanding of the world of spirit through its rituals and liturgies. Years later, in college just up the hill, I sat in its balconies on the Jewish high holy days, more comfortable by far in its folding chairs and underdressed families than I had been in years of velvet childhood pews in the suburbs.

We were married there, of course. We made sandwiches with the rabbi in the tiny kitchen that morning before the ceremony, stood under the chupah there where the piano is now, signed our ketubah in the adjacent sitting room, danced in the tiny courtyard with our friends and family after it was over. Where our daughter now picks flowers and fights with the other young congregants' kids in the childcare room while we here sing, share, and light candles with a community we are just now starting to rejoin.

And because our intermarriage of almost-Reconstructionist Jew and Universalist Unitarian is exactly that of this meeting house, of course, our daughter's spiritual heritage is that, just that, which steeps these rawwood walls.

The history and the holiness of this place runs particularily deep in us, then. But as well, the shaky progress of both congregations as we have lived them seems to have paralleled our own inner journeys. Both congregations have, over time, seen the ebb and flow of membership, as we ourselves have come in and out of periods of spiritual practice in our lives, dipping our toes in the waters of time and intensity. Both undergo a constant self-exploration as political and spiritual entities, and lean heavily on that tension as fodder for sermon choice and collective discourse, in a manner reflecting both their respective spiritual value systems and the rural hodgepodge of organic back-to-the-landers and politically active small towners which characterise the local neo-bohemian class -- and us.

And in all cases, our own and our distant congregations, the way we share and express our shared heritage leaves our temples empty more often than not -- which is to say, we are all weekend spiritualists, temporally more secular than not. And this seems okay, given the religions and people we're talking about here. After all, Darcie and I have found more commonalities than distinctions in the Reconstructionist and the UU perspectives, as if each were mutually, respectfully easily inclusive of the other. And much of that commonality is in the predominance of this-community-as-context for both liturgy and organization which we find in each.

I want to explore myself again, and us again, and especially the spiritual potential of this Jewnitarian daughter, and the spiritual ramifications of this failed try at another, I think. In fact, I realized today, like a wild goose startlet out of somewhere inside me, I've been ready for quite some time.

So I already want to go back, and said so at breakfast afterwards. Though I'm still learning the politics and rites of the Sunday worship, coming home to All Souls feels good, a recentering, a rebalancing, a recreation long overdue. It's wonderful to have found this building that houses our collective faith, and to have cemented it into our intertwined spirits; to have lived so near so long to a place where both of us, Reconstructionist Jew and Universalist Unitarian, can light our candles, and share joys and sadnesses, regardless of congregation or text, irrelevant of bimah or riser. Heck, it even feels good to add to the collection plate.

And maybe next time I'll light my own candle. I've certainly got enough joy and sadness in me to share.

posted by boyhowdy | 1:50 PM | 0 comments

Friday, April 30, 2004

Kukuriku Haiku

The surf-roar of the crowd
across the meadow / outside in the near distance / coming in on the wind
through the open bathroom window:

Football when I was a kid
of suburbian roots / in misshapen walls half buried / in my parents house;
Lacrosse this time around.

In both cases identically
hisspopping / rising and fading like radio / distant,
invisible, desired, unjoined.

posted by boyhowdy | 7:02 PM | 0 comments

Blogging From Work Is...

It's also a sure sign of boredom. Hoorah for, eh?

posted by boyhowdy | 10:59 AM | 0 comments

Thursday, April 29, 2004

Slogans In Our Schools

In the end, seventeen-year-old Jarred Gamwell, a gay student whose campaign for student body president garnered ACLU support when posters reading "Queer Guy for Hunt High" and "Gay Guys Know Everything!" were banned by the school for being potentially "disruptive to the learning atmosphere," came in last in the subsequent election. And the CNN story even goes so far as to let us know that no one's been elected yet -- instead, "a runoff was planned Thursday because two of the candidates did not received enough necessary votes to be declared a winner" [sic].

So, what have we learned today?
a) The ACLU's endorsement has a dubious effect on electability.
b) National name-recognition has little to no effect on local politics.
c) Surprisingly, a significant majority of adolescents surveyed (over 80%) are bright enough to recognize that being gay isn't a campaign platform.
d) No one cares whether I write the "what if I campaigned by saying that straight guys are smarter, huh? Huh?" blogentry, so I'm not going to bother.
e) If you're going to write an article about education, at least have an editor check your final sentence for the most godawful grammar I've seen in a while, and I teach high school.
The answer, of course, is f) All of the above.

In other short-form media news, there's a firestorm brewing on our school bulletin board about whether or not it's acceptable to wear a shirt that says "I only support gay marriage if both chicks are hot," but I've been burned too much lately, so I'm staying out of this one, letting the students duke it out on their own. Interestingly, no one complains when one of our (incidentally most "out") seniors wears his "Hooters girls love me" shirt, though it could be argued that both shirts participate in the systematic perpetuation of our peculiar and patriarchally-driven objectification of women, and are therefore equally inappropriate.

On the other hand, I think they're both funny, and support anyone's right to wear whatever the hell they please. But then, I'm an anti-PC libertarian on social issues, especially as they apply to self-definition through semiotically dual-edged, postmodernistically ironic statements. Give others the benefit of the doubt: maybe they'll let you wear what you want, too.

posted by boyhowdy | 10:35 PM | 0 comments

Wednesday, April 28, 2004

Get Thee To A Moviehouse

Forgotten in my earlier list of guilty pleasures: silly comedies on the silver screen, most notably anything written-by-and-starring an ex-SNL actor or writer, and most especially (I can't believe I'm admitting to this) anything with Lindsey Lohan in it, including remade/recycled films The Parents Trap and, more recently, Freaky Friday, which we rented over the weekend.

Imagine my happiness, then, in finding my favorite movie review source raving about new release Mean Girls -- script written by and co-starring SNL queen bee Tina Fey, directed by the same guy who directed Freaky Friday, and starring Ms. Lohan, Tim Meadows, et al. Even happier: the movie is based on Rosalind Wiseman's non-fiction book Queen Bees And Wannabes, and the review mentions Machiavelli, Luis Bunuel, and Edith Wharton in turn; as such, the whole mess turns out nobrow, not low-brow, mitigating the pleasure-guilt quite satisfactorily, thank you.

posted by boyhowdy | 11:23 AM | 0 comments

Red Meat and Condiments, Dolly and Yaz

A few of my favorite guilty pleasures. Wish I could say my pleasure in these was grounded in the appropriate postmodernistic irony, but the truth is, though the vast majority of my time is spent in more intellectual pursuits, in the secrecy of my late nights, here's me at my lowbrow best.

Books: Lawrence Watt-Evans, especially the Ethshar series. Christopher Stasheff. Also young adult fiction from Gordon Korman to the Borrowers, all of which can be read in one toilet-sitting.

Music: Dolly Parton, but only her more recent stuff. TLC's Unpretty. Yaz, Upstairs at Eric's...remember Yaz?

Food: Gravy. Bacon. Mayo. Lemon Pepsi. Relish. Pulled Pork sandwiches with vinegar pickles and cornbread. Entire orders of Peking Dumplings. Mmm...

Television: Stupid clip shows like America's Funniest Home Videos. Stupid reality shows from the bottom of the barrel (like The Littlest Groom and, more recently, Miss America Fear Factor). And, to my immense surprise, Extreme Makeover: Home Edition (with thanks to the wife who got me hooked).

Cyberspace: Customers Suck. Ego-surfing: the usual self-googling, but also watching other people respond to my coments at other sites, and checking my ranking at blorgy, of course. I'm such a link whore.

What's your guilty pleasure?

posted by boyhowdy | 9:43 AM | 0 comments

Wherein y'all do the creative bits for once. Dig?

Invent a memory of me and post it in the comments. It can be anything you want, so long as it's something that's never happened. Then, if you're so inclined, post this to your journal and see what people would like to remember of you, only the universe failed to cooperate in making it happen so they had to make it up instead.

From Srah via threegoldfish, with thanks to Vanessa. Hey, what are you waiting for? Make me a memory!

posted by boyhowdy | 8:55 AM | 0 comments

Tuesday, April 27, 2004

Three Cheers For Media Studies!

Hooray for David Gauntlett, who is a professor of -- get this -- Media and Audiences, hooray for, which I used last term to teach marxist and feminist thought, and hooray for EdTechUK for pointing to a verycool newly webbed project Gauntlett did with schoolchildren and native media, and thereby helping me rediscover, in all its playful and theoretical splendor.

Because without all of that, there would never have been a Random Course Generator in my life today. And if there had never been a Random Course Generator, not only would there have been much less laughter, I'd also never have created a course which
...will explore the semiology of postmodern media and its influence upon public concerns about gun fights in films by means of torturous over-analysis, and guesswork. Some carefully trained postgraduates will be stylish and, if they manage to complete this module, students will be slightly arrogant.
The module is worth 20 credits and is assessed by an Olympic decathlon event. Is it wrong to wish I could teach it?

posted by boyhowdy | 9:57 PM | 0 comments

All The Memes Are Dead

Most of them, anyway. Maybe that's a good thing.

But if you care about writing for writing's sake, just as the generative writing exercise ("write a poem about luncheon meat") has its important place in the pantheon, it's important to have a good meme around. Memes are vital tools for those days when the brain is totally overwhelmed and cannot blog consciously. Like a word association game, played well and thoroughly, the answers tap into the psyche. Like a poem, once in a while, sometimes the answers are miracles.

So. My brain is full of the worst of work and ailments. It's all been blogged before; I have not looked at anything with a different eye. Anyone got a meme?

posted by boyhowdy | 9:27 PM | 0 comments

Not Counting Airports

Joining the meme late, now that a better app has been designed for showing one's wanderings, here's my international travels...

create your own visited country map
or write about it on the open travel guide

...and my national sojurns:

create your own personalized map of the USA
or write about it on the open travel guide

Alas, a localized, airplane-dependent wanderer am I. If airport visits were legit, then I'd get to add Ohio, Texas, and a few others, but that hardly seems sporting; similarly, if fetal visits counted, there'd be more of Europe in there, but it doesn't seem a relinquishment of my pro-choice status to only plot directly experienced countries and states. I know New England's woods and byways like the palm of my hand, though, and how few of us can say that?

Thanks to Alex for reminding me about this one.

posted by boyhowdy | 1:16 PM | 0 comments

Monday, April 26, 2004

The Real Radioland

A lazy day in the rain with the baby and spouse, still dogsitting up in Brattleboro, lest the St. Bernard go insane with loneliness and start chewing the wooden frames off the windowpane glass again. I left the girls up North after a diner's earlybird supper out, high-backed benches and steak and eggs surrounded by old folks and third watchers, and headed home for a long quiet bachelor evening, but I guess I'm out of practice: two bored and mental-brownout hours in front of The Sixth Sense on network TV, a single beer, and here I am again in the studio for another week's radio show.

As always, here's tonight's playlist. The Erin McKeown goes out to Sushi: someday I'll tape the damn thing and send you a copy.

Tributary 4/26/04

Bob Dorough -- Too Much Coffee Man
Steve Reily and the Mamou Playboys -- Mama Told Papa
Phish -- Wolfman's Brother
Kool and the Gang -- Funky Stuff
They Might Be Giants -- Birdhouse In Your Soul
Erin McKeown -- Born To Hum
Girlyman -- Postcards From Mexico
Cesaria Evora -- Sangue De Beirona
Robert Randolph and the Family Band -- Ted's Jam
Sarah Harmer -- Almost
Patty Griffin -- Love Throw Me A Line
Marc Cohn -- Don't Talk To Her At Night
Gillian Welch -- Revelator
Rani Arbo and daisy mayhem -- Big Black Bird
Eddie From Ohio -- Good At That
Robbie Fulks -- Never Could
Shawn Colvin -- Say A Little Prayer
Moxy Fruvous -- Horseshoes
Ron Sexsmith -- My Girlfriend's Pretty
String Cheese Incident -- Take Five
Slaid Cleaves -- One Good Year
Stevie Ray Vaughan -- Chitlins Con Carne
The Vines -- I'm Only Sleeping
Skavoovie and the Epitones -- Bli-Blip

You've been listening to Tributary, your ten-to-midnight Monday night show, here on WNMH 91.5 F.M., serving Northfield, Gill, Keene, Brattleboro -- and you.

posted by boyhowdy | 11:06 PM | 0 comments

Sunday, April 25, 2004

All In The Family

With the students gone on a long parents weekend, and a dining hall brunch with Darcie's extended family now past, Sunday finds me in a rare moment of quiet amidst a weekend of familial visits and obligations. Here's what's been happening, and should happen:

Yesterday up to Brattleboro for a visit with the in-laws; baby's auntie Alicia and her long-time fiance Matt drove in from lower Connecticut for the weekend. Had pulled pork and corn bread at the local pit, finally open for the long warm season; returned to the house. The baby blew soap bubbles and got sand in her cuffs.

Darcie's mother was concerned about our winter-bald tires, so while Alicia stayed up for some solo time with her parents, Matt and I dropped Willow and Darcie off at the house for a nap and headed down to BJs for a quick tire change.

Afterwards, a Rani Arbo and daisy mayhem concert at Indoor Action, a local air-supported, astro-turfed cavern with surprisingly good acoustics. The baby danced and chased the other neighborhood kids and seemed perfectly happy long past her bedtime. Microbrew beer on blankets on the fake lawn made me long for the summerfolk festival scene; luckily, it's not so far away after all.

Home, after late night ice cream and Iron Chef; Alicia and Matt stayed over with their pug, Bruno. Farm this morning, where Matt took plenty of pix of the kid and the cow, and bought a half gallon of student-produced syrup, a half-year's worth of pancake topping.

Then back to the house quick: Darcie's parents again, now on their way to an overnight Cape Cod vacation, and the addition of Darcie's bother Josh and his long-timer Clay. Brunch, and some quality time with the baby on the swingset while the others ate: I'm happy to report that my little girl is happily sliding down the big slide by herself at 21 months, though she seems to prefer throwing rocks on the plastic to actually riding it.

And now the sun streams in the open windows on the breeze like a bottle genie, opening my heart to Spring. The great outdoors calls: get thee behind me, blog! Back tomorrow, then: we're at Darcie's parent's house overnight dogsitting the St. Bernard; with a little luck, I'll be able to stave off my allergies for a good long time.

posted by boyhowdy | 1:27 PM | 0 comments

Bologna Sonnet
because once I discovered that my site was the number one google result for "sonnet about bologna sandwiches," I couldn't resist the challenge to write a sonnet about bologna sandwiches

White bread, of course, and individually wrapped
pasteurized cheese. Mustard, if you like.
The meat of the matter, once tight
in its shiny deli casing (O Bologna!),

sliced thick and weighed in flesh-pink stacks,
home in a rustling bag, maybe fried
until it curls, and the center rises,
heaven in a sandwich: O bologna

best eaten with chips and drunk with milk!
Plaything of children everywhere; first-named;
poor stepchild of bacon; a wurst gone fat:
of grease and gristle you are born, bologna!

Your porch swing memories will always swim
before me when I pass you up for turkey ham.

posted by boyhowdy | 12:34 AM | 0 comments

Saturday, April 24, 2004

Our PC Schools, part 512½: From Bad To Worse

Not content with banning pink, a middle school in North Carolina bans all solid t-shirts, and posts security guards at entrances to confiscate shirts from those who don't comply.

Notably, in both cases school officials suspected that the solid colors were gang membership fashion, but in neither case did anybody actually ask any kids, gang members, or clothing sales professionals before making policy based on this stupid projections. And thus the countdown begins: which school will be the first to move right from strip-searching to outlawing clothes altogether?

posted by boyhowdy | 11:30 PM | 0 comments

Friday, April 23, 2004

Hit Me With Your Best Shot
or, Wanderers Not Clear On The Concept

  • lost josh

  • peacoat prep school

  • statistic+people+tunisi

  • spirit that bends leg toys

  • Give me a mosh Buddy icon

  • "summer - boys" - quotations

  • pix of all kinds of car in nigeria

  • artsy updated women's clothing

  • L L Cool J commercial gatorade video

  • voice immodulation is a real problem

  • pictures of tuxedos for prom ages 13 to 14 in juneau

  • Poem Cappuccino With knowledge of death and drinking it slowly

  • what was the answer to the bonus puzzle on thursday april 22's wheel of fortune (unsurprisingly, I'm the only hit for this dumbass query string)

  • Incidentally poetic list courtesy of 48 hours worth of surfers most in need of a tutorial. Meanwhile, I need an editor, or some people just need a spellchecker.

    On the other hand, it totally rocks that I'm the first google result for sonnets about bologna sandwiches, even if I haven't written any yet.

    posted by boyhowdy | 8:15 PM | 0 comments

    Herland Days
    For five or ten years they worked together, growing stronger and wiser and more and more mutually attached, and then the miracle happened -- one of these young women bore a child. Of course they all thought there must be a man somewhere, but none was found.
    -- Charlotte Perkins Gilman
    Fatherless mouse born; parthenogenesis comes to mammal kingdom. Your dog wants another dog just like her. (a la Fark)

    Better start impressing the girls, men: we're about to become biologically superfluous. There's a utopia out there, and if we don't act now, we're not going to be in it.

    posted by boyhowdy | 7:55 PM | 0 comments

    Thursday, April 22, 2004

    Mashed Banana, Mashed Banana*
    *the blog entry title only a parent could love -- or recognize!

    Manicotti. Corn. Plain pasta. A frozen banana, pulled off its stick and pulped but hardly eaten. Red Gatorade for rehydration; syrup peaches for desert.

    It's hard to forget the red Gatorade. Or the peaches.

    The rash started just above her diaper line two nights ago -- the day it suddenly hit ninety. We thought it was heat stroke at first.

    Then it spread to her thighs, and up her belly. Thanks to the graphic wonders of the misinformation superhighway, by last night we thought the now-heavy anger blotched across her tiny legs and body was rubella.

    This afternoon, the doctor said that as long as there didn't appear to be itchiness or bruiding, the rash was likely viral, and would have to run its course unassisted. Had there been any other viral symptoms -- fever, or loose stool? We allowed as how there was a few more slightly looser poops than usual today, and left the office feeling reassured.

    She didn't start spewing until after her bath. For a while there, it was a like a neverending slasher movie: just when we thought she'd thrown it all up, she'd prove us wrong with a belch and a vengance.

    For the last hour and a half, she's been clutching her stomach and groaning tummy hurts. Darcie rocked her by the window, and fed her ice chips, and stroked her brow. Later, she fell asleep on her mother's breast listening to Julie Andrew sing to Kermit on the television, and staring at me.

    When it comes out, it's red, of course. Red, and everywhere bright with yellow cling peaches.

    How dare her illness be beautiful, and simultaneously so heartbreaking. How dare her body betray us, make us helpless. It's so disempowering to want so much to take on her discomfort.

    posted by boyhowdy | 7:39 PM | 0 comments

    Our Friend Nuclear Power

    According to CNN, the nuclear power plant less than 15 miles from here seems to have misplaced some radioactive fuel rod pieces which

    a) would be fatal to anyone who came in contact with them, and
    b) could be used by terrorists to construct so-called dirty bombs that would spread deadly radiation with conventional explosives.

    Eep. Happy Earth Day, everybloggy.

    posted by boyhowdy | 12:02 AM | 0 comments

    Wednesday, April 21, 2004

    31 Flavors And Then Some, Redux


    Whip out your calendars, folks: it's time for everyone's favorite annual event, the National Competitive Ice Cream Giveaway!

    Just like last year, both Ben and Jerry's and Baskin Robbins have announced that they'll be giving away free kiddie-sized cones or cups to anyone who walks in to their chains next week. Best of all, they're doing this on consecutive days, so hit your favorite Ben and Jerry's location for a free scoop on Tuesday the 27th, and then hop on over to Baskin Robbins on Wednesday the 28th for a second helping.

    (Oh yeah, and they're both using the giveaways to raise social consciousness about something: Ben and Jerry's wants you to register to vote, and they're also giving away some cool mac stuff; Baskin Robbins is trying to get you to support literacy in little kids. But who cares, really, about politics or literacy? Damn the disenfranchised -- let them eat ice cream!)

    posted by boyhowdy | 7:22 PM | 0 comments

    Silent But Deadly

    For those not otherwise connected to the world of adolescent education, today is the GLSEN (Gay, Lesbian and Straight Education Network) Day of Silence, a student-led day of action where those who support making anti-LGBT bias unacceptable in schools take a day-long vow of silence to recognize and protest the discrimination and harassment -- in effect, the silencing -- experienced by LGBT students and their allies.

    And what does the Day of Silence look like here, at the boarding school? Though numerically-speaking few kids participate, it does seem a bit quieter out there. The campus teems with sunlight and small pods of students sitting and staring at each other. In the distance, non-participating jock-types yell happily from the Lacrosse field, and never the twain shall meet.

    Somehow, this doesn't seem like what GLSEN had in mind.

    I should admit I have mixed feelings about this now-yearly phenomenon. On the plus side, I think the fundamental concept is sound: silence is an especially powerful way to make a statement of support, and the choice of silence to raise awareness about the silencing of others has a semiotic elegance which appeals to my media literate mind. This is, I suppose, especially true in the context of school. Silence in a space in which class participation is often considered one of the signs of greatness is more powerful than it might be in other spaces; absence of language is more obvious here than, say, silence on the subway, or in line at McDonalds, might turn out to be.

    But on the other hand, in that context, silence is an academic disaster. The modern contructivist mode demands participatory, student-owned classroom experience; the refusal to participate is a neat turn-around, I suppose, but it gives the class back to the teacher, forcing us to lecture where before we would have pushed and prodded. The Day of Silence may be an interesting footnote at the beginning of class, but once the moment of recognition passes, the students remain silent, electing to trade that moment for period after period of passivity, and I'm not convinced that unintended consequence doesn't set the stage for more loss than gain.

    Of course, in a worst case scenario, both teacher and students decide to be silent, and what was once a class turns into an exercise in awareness that drags out far longer than necessary. What, do we all sit at our desks with our heads down for an hour and a half? Some teachers here who would otherwise decide to be silent themselves have decided to show movies all day, making the silence of their students invisible -- that, alone, says all it needs to about the potential pitfalls of the silent protest in the classroom context. Others have decided to cancel class, which, obviously, keeps the silence from being heard or seen at all, and thus makes the Day of Silence counterproductive -- for what good is a day of silence if it's spent in your dorm room, playing video games?

    While this might seem like a win for the GLSEN crowd, then, I think the net result of this movement can at worst be to pit the anti-hate self against the academic self, exacerbating the already-frustrating and artificial divide between learning-mode and social-mode which, ironically, blogs and other social networking software have begun to break down. Maybe the point here is merely that silence only works when the world is loud around you, and waiting for you to speak. Once a culture begins to accept your cause, though, silence only keeps us from talking about why we're silent.

    Or maybe the quietude is the result of the manure mix that was spread across the campus greenery yesterday; I know feces is supposed to make the best fertilizer, but most of us are afraid to open our mouths and breath it all in.

    Anyway, something sure stinks around here.

    posted by boyhowdy | 2:05 PM | 0 comments

    Monday, April 19, 2004

    In Studio and On Location

    Now that the radio station finally got a live 'net connection in the studio, I can blog livetime instead of having to stay up past one playlistblogging from paperscraps after I return home. Thanks to the WNMH board of directors for netting me an extra hour of sleep; after three conferences in four days, and a grand total of 16 hours of driving to get there and back and there-and-back-again, I really need it.

    Especially given the 90 degree heat and buffeting winds today on the drive back South from the wilds of Vermont. Who makes this weather, anyway? It's sweltering down here in the basement of Stone Hall. The bugs pour in the open window like a plague. The moving air stops and starts. Soon, the rains will come.

    Tributary 4/19/04

    Bob Dorough -- Too Much Coffee Man
    Cake -- Manah Manah
    The Gourds -- El Paso
    Barenaked Ladies -- Grade 9
    Oysterhead -- Oz Is Ever Floating
    Manu Chao -- Me Gustas Tu
    The Allman Brothers -- Jessica
    Acoustic Syndicate -- Crazy Town
    Ani Difranco -- As Is
    Joss Stone -- Fell In Love With A Boy
    Oysterband w/ Chumbawumba -- This Is The Voice
    Primus -- Welcome To This World
    Keller Williams -- Best Feeling
    Chris Smither -- Rock and Roll Doctor
    The Del McCoury Band -- Rain and Snow
    Negativland -- Yellow, Black and Rectangular
    Little Feat -- Dixie Chicken
    Ominous Seapods -- No Time Like The Present
    The Cash Brothers -- Nebraska
    Sarah Harmer -- Uniform Grey
    Shelby Lynne -- The Seeker
    Shawn Colvin -- Rocking

    Remember: you've been listening to Tributary, your ten to midnight Monday night show here on WNMH 91.5 fm, serving Northfield, Gill, Keene and Brattleboro. Sleep tight, folks. Keep cool if you can.

    posted by boyhowdy | 10:25 PM | 0 comments

    And I Was There
    Incestuous Blogging About BloggerCon

    A quick egosurf on technorati shows two new (and complimentary) mentions of yours truly in the blogosphere. I'm glad Daniel thought so highly of me, and especially proud of this A-lister mention, even though it's buried in a heck of a long post about the Journalism conference. Thanks, also, to the eminently cool Jeff Sharlet for a) being so nice about my contribution immediately following his in that same session, and b) being so self-flagellent and un-A-list-ish about this, which (I promise, Jeff) will get no more mention here at NAWWAL.

    I'm damn proud of my two mentions, really. Not sure if that's sad or what. Notably, a similar technorati-check for, say, BloggerCon host Dave Winer only reinforces the truth of Shirky's Power Law -- a topic, incidentally, heavily featured at today's excellent NERCOMP workshop in Middlebury, about which I intend to blog more later tonight. And, as if we needed more proof I'm no A-lister, I didn't even make the Liloia list.

    [UPDATE 6:19 p.m.: though it doesn't seem to have hit technorati, Velveteen Rabbi also mentions my contribution to the Religion session. See, Jeff -- we really did get a lot out of all your hard work and coordination.

    Also, I'm in the crowd in a few photoblogs, most notably just about dead center in the first six or seven pix here, thanks to Dan Bricklin. Can you spot me? Hint: I'm wearing a maroon mock turtleneck, and I have really long hair.]

    [UPDATE 7:36 p.m.: Though I'm not on it yet, thanks to the aforementioned Liloia list, I've found Jack and a few others mentioning my comment at the Journalism session as well, a notation in the midst of some otherwise-anonymous-comments and A-list namedrops which serves the ego most happily.]

    posted by boyhowdy | 6:14 PM | 0 comments

    Sunday, April 18, 2004

    Oh, For Blog's Sake

    In case it wasn't really, really clear from the way I presented it, I'd like to point out to Jeff Sharlet and others that I was stimulated, excited, energized, and just generally happy with EVERY session, EVERY interaction, and even the brainstorming-in-the-car aftermath of BloggerCon. I just decided that the notes I took on the sessions themselves were content-based enough that posting them would be a hundred times redundant, what with the same gontent going up on other blogs live during the 'con, so instead I decided to track and then later blog about some trivia-laden nuts-and-bolts social and institutional observations about the conference itself, not the content of the sessions.

    Given that, any list item in the below entry is in no way intended as a commentary on the value or lack thereof of any particular session or interaction (with the exception of one cool blogtitle, and two subjectively interesting statements I was especially taken with).

    If you are Jeff or you have been sent here via him somehow, please look here before vilifying me. As someone posited in the Blogging in Academia session (like the Religion session, a highly stimulating session where I blogged no ConStats but took a whole slew of personal notes): If I'm going to get called out for something I put in my blog, I want to make sure it's something I'm willing to put my reputation on the line for. And this unfortunate misunderstanding isn't it.

    Any questions?

    posted by boyhowdy | 11:49 PM | 0 comments

    Night Villanelle

    The baby scats herself to sleep
    Between two pillows in our bed,
    While outside, tiny peepers peep

    Along with her, a rhythmic beep,
    A one-note chorus, words unsaid:
    The baby scats herself to sleep.

    The darkness here is broad and deep;
    To chase away the midnight dread
    Outside, the tiny peepers peep

    loud through the window by the heap
    of dirty clothes and bathrobe red.
    The baby scats herself to sleep

    And snuggles with a tiny sheep
    with ballet slippers, warm and fed
    while outside tiny peepers peep

    And while she waits for daddy's creep,
    Tucked close into mama's head:
    The baby scats herself to sleep;
    Outside, the tiny peepers peep.

    posted by boyhowdy | 2:03 PM | 0 comments

    After The Con

    Bloggercon was as wonderful and stimulating as yesterday's conference was boring. Figuring the bloggiverse doesn't really need more than a hundred subjective recaps of the same damn conference, I logged the day on paper in list form. Though exhausted, my lower back throbbing from a day in and out of the ergonomically worst classrooms I've ever experienced, here's the stats while they're still fresh:

    National Anthem / Intro Session
    Dave Winer
    Pound 200

    # Candidates for Song of Bloggercon: 7
    1. Brandy You're A Fine Girl

    2. Charlie on the MTA

    3. Meet the Mets

    4. Take Me Out to the Ballgame

    5. Yankees Suck

    6. Purple Haze

    7. Wipeout (drum solo only)

    # Songs actually sung: 2 (Take Me Out to the Ballgame, The Star Spangled Banner)

    # Songs accompanied by accordian: 1 1/2

    # EFF hats: 2

    # Hats: 3

    # Program change announcements by Dave Winer: 3
    1. Intro session moved to Pound 200, but you knew that already.

    2. Session on Personal TV Networks replaced by session on Multimedia and Blogging due to moderator illness.

    3. New John Perry Barlow session added, assuming John Perry Barlow shows up.

    Gender Ratio, expressed as Males to Females: 3:2

    Participants wifi blogging during the intro session: 40%

    What is Journalism?
    Jay Rosen
    Pound 201

    # Items lited on the blackboard at the beginning of the session: 5
    1. The Two Tribes

    2. Blogging --> Journalism

    3. Journalism --> Blogging

    4. Bloggers and Journalists interacting

    5. What do we want?

    # Windows open on projected windows desktop: 4
    1. IRC chat (for virtual participants)

    2. MSN Search with preview (for finding relevant sites quickly)

    3. Ever-changing IE window (for showing the blog of whomever is speaking or, occasionally, the site that is the subject of discussion at a given moment)

    4. Unknown

    # Live webcasts: 1

    # Chat participants also physically in the room: 2

    # People raising their hands at any given time: 5

    Best definition of journalism: "Making the world clear in a way people care about"

    Jessica Baumgart
    Pound 202

    # Session attendees: 35

    # Librarians: 22

    # Librarians who blog for their libraries: 2

    Best idea of the session: adding librarians to class blogs

    Blogs mentioned as examples:
    Lunch Break

    • Christine, a.k.a. the marvelous Sushiesque

    • Sally, Harvard Law Manuscript Librarian

    • Austen, kiddie talent handler

    • Another of Christine's friends whose name I can't remember

    • Bernhard the Swissblogger

    • Me

    Tip left by confused but generous group after giving up on trying to split the check evenly: 22%

    Blogging in Academia
    Michael Watkins
    Pound 202

    # list-type things noted: 0

    Blogs mentioned as examples: Minutes spent discussing Blogs in education and teaching with four other edubloggers after the session: 11

    Jeff Sharlet
    Pound 201

    Time I stopped writing this stuff down: 3:04

    # Minutes early session ended: about 30

    Extraneous Stats

    # Rules cited: 2
    1. No metadiscussion

    2. No advertising

    # Movies cited: 1
    1. Gangs of New York

    Coolest blogtitle: Velveteen Rabbi

    # Business cards distributed: 9

    # Business cards received: 5

    # Friends made: Many

    Cost of parking ticket: $15

    posted by boyhowdy | 1:04 AM | 0 comments

    Friday, April 16, 2004

    If It's Friday, This Must Be Connecticut

    Two hours on the road this morning, including rush hour through Hartford, have taken me to this year's New England Association of Independent School Librarians Conference at Choate, a stately and formal prep school full of green grass quads and tall white and brick buildings that dwarf its dress-shirt students. The whole place is a bit intimidating; it doesn't help that all around me at this morning's meet-and-greet the conversations invariably turned to where you got your library degree. Bummer that Informatics didn't really exist six years ago when I got my MAT in Teaching with Internet Technologies.

    I've snuck away from what the conference schedule describes as Luncheon with a talk by Jeffrey Schiff, Professor of Art History at Wesleyan University, introducing his installation, The Library Project, to sit among the project itself and blog on a wifi machine in the school library. From what I can tell, I'm not missing much: the "project" appears to be little more than a couple of glass cases with numbers in them, a reinterpretation of Borges' Library of Babel. This afternoon's sessions on New Electronic Media, which to librarians appears to mean purchasable databases, hold no more promise, but I'm obliged to attend, as the folks back at the homestead asked me to attend on their behalf while they stayed and ran the library without us.

    This morning's sessions were excellent, though: a paired set, collectively described as Librarians, Superheroes, Wonder Woman, and Graphic Novels, and set in the rich new science center auditorium, a space of comfy chairs and hardwood which I covet for our own school like I've never coveted before. I've got voluminious notes on both excellent lectures -- first, Wesleyan Psych Prof Jill Morowski's The Psychology of Wonder Woman, and afterwards SUNY Buffalo Development Librarian Michael Lavin's heavily graphics-driven presentation on Building a Graphics Novels Collection in the School Library -- and hope to have more to say when I'm not in a rush, in the hot window sun, surrounded by students in collared shirts and khakis all waiting for a crack at the wireless laptop.

    Ironically, NEAISL is the first of three conferences I'll be attending in a New England marathon over the next four days, and the only one not about blogging. Even more ironically, it seems likely that this will be the only on-site blog entry I'll be able to produce: tomorrow's BloggerCon is too close to home to justify sticking around at the wifi session at the conference's close, especially given that tomorrow night's the first of two shiva-sitting nights at my parent's house just one town over from Cambridge, and I have no illusions that three straight one-hour sessions at NERCOMP -- on blogging, wikis, and RSS -- will provide much time to conferenceblog. Rest assured, though, you'll be hearing from me by Tuesday.

    posted by boyhowdy | 2:07 PM | 0 comments

    Thursday, April 15, 2004


    Found in Vanessa's weblog digest , which I discovered backlinking from my reinvigorate hit-tracker. Via Nick, who got it from normblog, who got it from Anne, who got it from Crescat Sententia...

    Anyway, here's the deal.
    1. Grab the nearest book.
    2. Open the book to page 23.
    3. Find the fifth sentence.
    4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
    Of course, memes never work right for me. In this case, I find myself in the midst of a list at the top of Steve Martin's Pure Drivel, wondering if lists count. Allowing that bullets are still sentences if they end in a period would net us the following entry:
    • "7:22 A.M.: Kitten leaps, stops, darts left, stops abruptly, climbs wall, clings for two seconds, falls on head, darts right for no apparent reason." (From Mars Probe Finds Kittens)
    My alternate book, yet another collection of essays, is slightly more help. Equally close at hand is David Rakoff's Fraud, where page 23 finds us post-anecdotal in the midst of an essay entitled Arise, Ye Wretched of the Earth. Sentence five? "I would not lose my virginity that summer to any of the girls from the group." Now that's more like it!

    Also, now I want a weblog digest.

    posted by boyhowdy | 9:50 PM | 0 comments

    Because McMarketing Vetoed "Nag Meals"

    Would You Like McGuilt With That?

    In keeping with the post-Atkins PC universe, McDonalds has just announced their new adult Happy Meals, featuring salad, bottled water, pedometer and a little bit of advice: Walk more. Ready, set...

    1. Is it possible for a fast food company to remake their image so drastically?
    2. How long would it take, really, for the idea of healthy living to be synonymous with McDonalds?
    3. Is this coming too late to matter? What makes McDonalds think they can actually steal tummies from the Subway next door?
    4. What's happy about salads, water, and advice?

    Also, just so we won't covet our kid's lunches, in June [McDonalds] will roll out healthier choices in its Happy Meals for kids nationwide, such as the option to substitute apple slices and juice for fries and a soft drink.

    Seriously, though, there's no worry that McD's is truly selling out:
    Michael Jacobson, executive director of the Center for Science in the Public Interest, credited McDonald's with taking "some small steps in the right direction" Thursday but said they don't go nearly far enough.

    "If McDonald's wanted to improve the public's health, in addition to providing the salads and bottled water, it could stop using partially hydrogenated oils in its fries, which contain trans fats and are a powerful promoter of heart disease," he said. "They also could lower the fat content of their burgers, use lowfat cheese, provide more baked food instead of fried food and lower the sodium content of their foods."
    Exactly. Here's hoping the trend towards providing all choices for all people busts McDonalds, Microsoft, and the rest of them long before the fiberburger ever rears its ugly, inevitable, tasteless head. Viva la carbs!

    posted by boyhowdy | 7:29 PM | 0 comments

    Wednesday, April 14, 2004

    Under De/con/struction

    A day off for quick D and C surgery with Darcie, a nap with the baby, and that new Jim Carrey movie at the mall cinema, the one with the big comfy chairs and all the leg room; this, a mysterious urge to write a decent Vilanelle, and a procrastination-potential pile plentiful enough to push and postpone in desperation all rational thought, and what am I doing?

    Figuring out how to get my delicious tinyblog to roll over into the links list below like a well-trained puppy, in hopes of providing a sidebar contantly updating all viewers on the websites I save and crave.

    Please excuse our appearance while we work together to make NAWWAL your blog-on-the-go / the place to be / the bee's knees / all that and a side of chips. Because I know your life just wasn't complete without knowing what I bookmarked today.

    posted by boyhowdy | 10:12 PM | 0 comments

    Tuesday, April 13, 2004

    Health Update

    Arthritic knees, a souveneir of an orthroscopic surgery and drainage back when I ran full-tilt into a marble turnstile while responding to an emergency radio call at the Museum of Science, Boston. Knotted neck from an adult lifetime of overlong horsemane hair -- a mane which pulls out headaches from my scalp in the humidity, and after showers or rain. Bad back, both the traditional spine-base swell of twinged fire that worsens with the flu and fevers, and a second surely unrelated shining steel muscle cramp just above my kidneys for no reason at all. Chronic athlete's foot (don't ask). Low limbic awareness, a.k.a. a tendency towards bashing one's limbs and bits into walls and when rounding corners. Blocked eustacian tubes. I live in a constant state of mild discomfort, and doesn't everybody?

    But where a return of last year's shingles would have been restricted to a band of skin and nerve tissue, the new rash, a sure product of stress, has spread everywhere. A wide red-scratched "V" just under my left shirtcuff; on the right side of my neck, and the shoulder below; inside both knees, right where I can rub them together for relief when I am walking: each new viral garden pushed up from the skin in clusters like the garden daffodils, growing over days and hours from pink bumps with white-dot dots like distant showcapped fleshmountains.

    I am very itchy.

    Does anyone have any sudafed, or cortizone cream?

    posted by boyhowdy | 11:59 PM | 0 comments

    Subjectively Reverse Anthropology
    The White Man as Other, and isn't it about time?

    Given the continuing digital divide, the odds are excellent that you, too, are a Qallunaat, making you a perfect subject for this new academic field in which Inuit study "white folks."

    Kudos and thank-the-source to oldmedia alternative news aggregator Utne, one of the few champions of the culturally relativistic which gets it right without getting it PC, for finding and sharing.

    posted by boyhowdy | 8:54 AM | 0 comments

    Broadcast Therapy

    Each Monday night after the girls are asleep I drive over the bridge to the other campus where, after a quickstop at Mim's Market for the last of the day's French Roast, I carry what can only be described as a backbreaking buttload of CDs down the dark stairs to the radio station.

    There, in the basement of an otherwise empty classroom building, I spin the music, ever-searching for the perfect segue and mood. And I read bedtime stories on the hour and the half hour, just because it feels good to do so. Tonight, in honor of my grandfather's passage, I read a trio of father poems, including Donald Justice's Men at Forty:
    Men at forty
    Learn to close softly
    The doors to rooms they will not be
    Coming back to...
    And between the songs and stories, I talk. A lot.

    Because, for me, talking into the air is a kind of catharsis.

    Out in the wide swath of antenna-reach people read by their radios, or sit perhaps silently in their own houses, with their own spouses. On the interstate in the middle of a long haul a trucker listens in until the signal begins to scratch and fade up past Brattleboro. Though this unconnected audience is for the most part theoretical, a mental projection, a trick of my own solipsism, it is my reason for being.

    It's a lot like blogging, I think.

    And, like blogging, I even got a comment tonight, a secret sharer whose voice crackled in the ozone, and called to read a poem her father had written once for his father.
    At rest on a stair landing,
    They feel it
    Moving beneath them now like the deck of a ship,
    Though the swell is gentle.

    And deep in mirrors
    They rediscover
    The face of the boy as he practices tying
    His father's tie there in secret

    And the face of that father,
    Still warm with the mystery of lather...

    On the way back over the bridge tonight after hail and rain, the fog flooded over the pavement, hiding it beneath the headlight glare, as if I had achieved the epiphanies of the air, and dwelled in cloud.

    Tonight's playlist:

    Tributary 4/12/04

    Bob Dorough -- Too Much Coffee Man
    Trey Anastasio -- Cayman Review
    Beck -- Devil's Haircut
    Wild Cherry -- Play That Funky Music
    They Might Be Giants -- Cowtown
    Marcia Ball -- Down The Road
    Settie -- Riding In My Car
    Trout Fishing In America -- Happy That You're Here
    Jazz Is Dead -- Scarlet Begonias
    Gillian Welch -- I Want To Sing That Rock And Roll
    Eddie From Ohio -- Quick
    Dan Hicks -- Meet Me At The Corner
    Sam Phillips -- I Need Love
    Sarah McLachlan -- Dear God
    Galactic -- Tiger Roll
    Erin McKeown -- Slung-lo
    Norah Jones -- Sunrise
    Marc Cohn -- Mama's In The Moon
    Indigo Girls -- Romeo and Juliet
    The Waifs -- London Still
    Marianne Faithful -- Love and Money
    Girlyman -- David
    Barenaked Ladies -- Light Up My Room
    Ware River Club -- I Love Her, She Loves Me
    Keller Williams -- Anyhow, Anyway
    Nenes -- No Woman No Cry
    Slaid Cleaves -- This Morning I Was Born Again

    You've been listening to Tributary, your Monday night ten to midnight show here on WNMH 91.5. Where the music sometimes stops. But it's worth it.
    ...They are more fathers than sons themselves now.
    Something is filling them, something

    That is like the twilight sound
    Of the crickets, immense,
    Filling the woods at the foot of the slope
    Behind their mortgaged houses.

    posted by boyhowdy | 12:41 AM | 0 comments

    Monday, April 12, 2004

    A Blog About Nothing

    My parents read my blog. My wife reads my blog. The people I work with -- and for -- read my blog. If you're a random stranger reading this blog right now, then you may be in the majority objectively-speaking, but you're not going to get the thoughts buzzing around madly like bees behind my eyes, the ones currently keeping me awake at night, stinging my dreams.

    Mostly, that's because I'm a foot-in-mouth idiot.

    Every once in a while, the things I need to rant and rail about are all so much about how stupid I am with the people I love and care about (and the ones I hate but have to be nice to) that they just can't go here, lest the blog become just one more stupid thing I do to the people I love (and hate but have to work for and play nice with).

    Most people have their own name associated with their blog, it turns out. But most people don't put their foot in their mouth as often as I do. So here's the Seinfeldian summary -- it's about nothing, I swear:

    I am angry and powerless.
    I am depressed and leaning towards addiction as a coping mechanism.
    I am short with others, and the feedback cycle makes me more prone to be stupid and hurtful.
    I am feeling locked in to my life.
    I have lost my confidence.
    Oh, and my shingles are back with a vengance.

    Sometimes wanderers are lost. Sometimes they can't even clarify their direction, even -- especially -- when their boss has asked them to write it down in one page less, surely in order to nitpick their vocational urges to death.

    And finally, cryptically: The problem with becoming the man she thought I was is that I can't leave without feeling like I've let her down, too. And I owe her too much to ever do that. So I guess we'll just stay. Hoorah for me: at least I own my misery.

    posted by boyhowdy | 5:06 PM | 0 comments
    coming soon
    now listening