Threw Out The Past

What is it about blogging that introduces completely new and (mostly) interesting things about people who are close to you? Take, for instance, my friend Leo. Leo has recently begun penning his own blog, Fifteen Key, the title of which is taken from an 11 year old Uncle Tupelo song. I'll get to that later, though.

Throughout the roughly 12 years I've known Leo, we've had a lot of conversations about almost everything. Some conversations are very memorable, inspirational or poignant, while others, well, others can be ridiculous...or fun. Or stupid. Anyway, we're friends. We know a lot about each other. Here and there, though, I find things out about my friend that I never knew before. It's not even anything I can specifically cite. It's just little things I pick up on here and there as I'm reading his missives. I can only guess he's probably experienced the same thing reading my blog. Leo's just an example, really.

In fact, the information and thoughts in this space have got to be quite fascinating for people who are really close to me - family especially - as they've probably witnessed sides of me here that they've never seen before. It's not that I'm a completely different person around them, it's just that blogging has brought them daily access to me, something they haven't had since I was, what, eighteen? I'm happy to provide it, of course, and I'm thrilled that they can have access to me and keep up to date whenever they want. Nothing beats actual interaction and conversation, but since my immeadiate family don't live in the state anymore, sometimes it's hard to see them with any regularity. How's the weather up there?

On the flip side, it's probably even more fascinating to people who barely know me. It's also a little frightening. I recently met the boyfriend of a close friend of my wife and I. We went out for dinner a couple of weeks ago and we had a great meal and a very nice time. The topic of my blog came up and at the time, I encouraged him to check it out. Even further out there in the web-o-sphere, I would imagine someone who I went to high school or college with was probably paging through their school yearbooks at some point and saw my picture (sidenote: Steph claims I had a mullet, and while I don't completely deny this, I do insist my mullet was incredibly mild. I will post my high school picture here for a vote soon). Inevitably, somewhere, somehow, someone you knew way back when has Googled you, just to see. I've done it, you've done it, we've all done it. Just admit it. So imagine someone's surprise when they find this link and discover four years of journalistic writing. Has that got to be a fascinating find or what? Wild thing, this internet.

Oh, hey, don't get me wrong - I'm not claiming for a single second that my writing is fascinating or that I'm some terribly interesting dude. That's not what I'm saying. What I'm saying is this: if I found some kind of alternative universe where all my old classmates, teachers or old girlfriends blogged years worth of stuff, well, I'd be calling in sick to work for a few days straight. And so would you.

So other than a desperate attempt to leave some kind of written proof that I existed, or because I think it would unbelievably awesome to have my children and grandchildren read my archives someday and wonder what the hell I was smoking (for the record, nothing, kiddos), I'll pose this Sex and the City type summary question: what are blogs for?

I'm not going to answer that just yet. Maybe another time, though. Of course, feel free to comment. But if history is any indication, most of you won't.

Anyway, getting back to Leo and Uncle Tupelo. As you probably don't know, Uncle Tupelo were probably the most important band that came across my ears so far in this lifetime. Not because I was obsessed or because I followed them around the country or anything (just the former, really), but their music made me change my life in ways that still reverberate strongly with me today. The band split up in 1994 and splintered into what became Son Volt and Wilco, a pair of bands that took their intended seperate paths, but the truth is the two will never equal what the one did.

To that end, a lot has changed since those days of the mid-nineties when all that really mattered to me was new albums, nightclubs and filling my pockets with Rolling Rocks so I wouldn't have to keep going back to the bar during the show. All that mattered to me was every Tuesday when new albums came out. And when a new Son Volt or Wilco album came out, lookout dude. My level of anticipation was in the red. Leo (or anyone else, really) can tell you.

Fast forward ten years now and Son Volt, recently re-formed, have released their fifth album, Okemah & The Melody Of Riot. My level of anticipation was certainly high, but it never even touched the kind of excitement I had back then. And I miss those days sometimes, I miss that feeling deep down in the pit of my gut that I had when I'd get home and rip a CD open with excitement and drop it into the player. But I'm glad I'm where I am now and I'm glad I had those extremes back then. So when I say I'm in a different place now, I think what I really mean is that I don't think I'll ever be as excited for a new album or a live show as I was back then. Sad? Yeah.

Come October 23, though, I assure you that I can be found at The Paradise in Boston, MA, watching Son Volt rip through it. Oh, and I'll be excited. I may even have some Rolling Rocks in hand, for old times sake. Because I believe that Jay Farrar remains one of our planets best songwriters and one thing that hasn't changed is my belief that he remains a very important artist in our generation. But it will never be the same. They may still make great music that holds up to what they did previously, but it's me. I'm the one who's playing with a different deck. I've got other things to be happy and excited about these days (and bummed out and stressed about, too, I guess). Life, baby.

The thing that gets me is that for those of you who know me well enough, or have just met me, you actually know the deck, too, just because of this place. Wild stuff.

 

Now It's Back Where We Started

If you've been reading this site for even a couple of months, you probably know that the subject of energy use has been a frequent topic. Today, though, I need to mildly complain about a measure employed more and more frequently in places like office buildings and airports: water conservation. I understand the need for limiting the amount of water coming out of a given faucet, but sometimes this is taken to borderline ridiculous levels. The office building I work in over in Bedford, MA, has taken this to painful new extremes.

It's one of those deals where you have to press down on the faucet for the water to start running. I swear by the time you get your hands under the spout, you're lucky if two drops hit it. It turns into this cat-and-mouse game where you press it, then try to move your hands lightening quick. Am I embellishing? OK, maybe just a little. But it truly does feel like you're playing whack-a-mole with the bathroom faucet sometimes. It's not really necessary. If they just allow the water to run for, perhaps, 20-25 seconds, that should be sufficient enough for everyone. I understand the idea, but please.

And don't even get me started on the people who don't bother washing their hands in a bathroom. Bad news.

 

Leave The Angles For The Shills

Okay, another installment of mystery picture. Anyone want to guess?



So, it looks as if the Bush energy plan is going to pass into law fairly soon. As expected, there's very little encouragement here for tighter emissions controls, a problem that Bush apparantly feels isn't a problem, despite nearly all science indicating it is. Instead, the bill will give tax breaks, to the tune of $11.5 billion dollars, to spur the production of oil, gas and some renewables/alternatives such as solar and wind. Don't expect much on the renewable side, though. The overwhelming result here will be that big oil and gas companies get some tax breaks. It remains to be seen if gas prices will go up or down. I don't expect it.

What the bill certainly won't do is cut our dependance on foreign oil. To be fair, no bill constructed today can do that. We don't have even close to enough oil supply here in the States to support our obnoxious carbon usage and skewing a bill too much towards renewable energy today would topple the economy like a house of cards.

Is this bad? For the enviroment, yes. It's sad, in fact, that our leaders in both parties can't wean themselves off the crack pipe called "big political donations." I had to laugh when I was watching Lewis Black's segment on a recent Daily Show, when they played video of Hilary Clinton speaking out against violent/sexual content in video games by saying that these games have a similar negative affect on children that alcohol, tobacco and firearms do. Black's comment, and I'm paraphrasing, was "well, isn't that funny? Hilary's speaking out against the top 3 financial contributors to her party!"

Of course, there's more to the bill than I've explained here, but that's the crux of it. It's better than what we have now, but it's still a real kick in the gut to see that Washington seems so powerless to the big oil companies. I guess that's what happens when you have a bunch of out-of-touch men in their 50's and 60's running the show - they still think it's the 1950's or 1960's.

 

Washing Dishes, Birthday wishes, Watching Baseball Matches

Random thoughts as I sit in my New York City hotel room on a Sunday night, hoping Mark Prior can get a win against the Cardinals. Fantasy baseball purposes only, of course.

- Can someone shed any light on the situation with putting Tupperware in the dishwasher? Whenever I put the dishes away, everything else is bone-dry, yet the Tupperware always stays wet. Really wet. A lot of times, the Tupperware is full of water. Now, I realize that if I just turned the Tupperware upside down it probably wouldn't fill with water, but there are other things (bowls, cups, etc) that reside in the dishwasher in the same way and those never fill with water. WTF? When I was kid, the same thing happened in my own house and I always thought it was just a bad dishwasher or whatever. But it happens at my house now, too.

- I'm really glad the NHL is back. If it were business as usual, I probably wouldn't care so much. I stopped really being interested in the NHL right around the same time they added like 10 teams in the early-to-mid '90s era. I haven't really cared since. But the new rule changes might actually improve the product. I was really hoping they would trim the rosters down a few players per team. That (and getting rid of 6-10 teams) would really get me back in the building. But I'm interested to see where it goes. No more ties!

- Abraham Nunez just homered off Mark Prior. What?

- This weekend my wife and I celebrated our first anniversary. It's hard to believe it's already been a year since that truly magical weekend we had. We didn't do anything over the top, really. We simply returned to J's Restaurant at the Nashoba Valley Winery in Bolton, MA - spectacular food at a place that now holds a spot very near and dear to our hearts. Of all the things we did that weekend, I'm tempted to say that those few hours (wedding/dinner) were my favorite. It was really unforgettable to scan an entire restaurant and see it filled with all these people we've both known and loved for so long. It was really a no brainer that we go back there and we'll probably do it every year. Our decision was proven smart upon the arrival of dessert, when the chef had applied a neat "Happy Anniversary" in chocolate around the edge of the plate. Nice touch.

- Jim Edmonds just homered off of Mark Prior.

- John Mabry just homered off of Mark Prior.

- Mark Grudzalvinvnqvniqik just doubled deep to left-center off of Mark Prior.

- I check the traffic logs for this site from time-to-time and I see quite a few searches for "Jeff Copetas." Who are you people? I really do wonder sometimes. Is it regular readers who've just forgotten what the site URL is? Are they just old acquaintences from high school/college who wonder what will happen if they type my name into a search engine? You know you do it, too. Identify yourselves, dammit! Really. Blow my mind. I beg you.

- Speaking of which, here's a partial list of other random searches which have driven people to this site:

Anders Parker Photos
Bottle Rockets guitar chords Gravity Fails
kutmasta kurt
I will have you i will find a way and I will have you
limes wire
tin foil in mouth
human league you're my obsession

- Thought I'd point out that Gummi has been on a roll lately! Her writing is insanely funny.

- Stella, a new show on Comedy Central featuring, among others, Michael Ian Black, makes me freaking howl with laughter. This show deserves a much larger audience, but it's probably just too out there to survive. However, it would go dandy right there next to Arrested Development. Go to the site and watch the clips - this is a killer show (mom, dad - don't bother).

- Speaking of dad, thanks for the tip on Lewis Black. I had previously only seen him on The Daily Show, where he does a semi-weekly bit that always gave me some chuckles. But I had never heard his comedy outside of that environment until I woke up early one Saturday morning up at my parents house recently and found my dad laughing hysterically at a Lewis Black special on HBO or something. I sat down and it wasn't long before I felt the comedy goodness. The guy is damn riot. The content is good, but his delivery is the clincher.

Recent audible treats, courtesy of the IPod:

Green on Red - Easy Way Out
Lewis Black - Who's F**cking Who
Doug Martsch - Woke Up This Morning
Fairport Convention - Mr. Lacey
Lonesome Brothers - You Don't Have My Number
Jay Farrar - Make It Alright (live)
Jerry Lee Lewis - Money (live)
Led Zeppelin - Boogie With Stu
Aimee Mann - Little Bombs

That new Aimee Mann album is spectacular.

 

I'm Not Like Them, But I Can Pretend

Oh, I love stories like this one. Whenever an out-of-touch politician goes out in public, hilarity often ensues. When I say "goes out in public," by the way, I don't mean stepping out onto a podium to read a well-rehearsed and pre-written speech. I don't mean walking down the steps of the state house into a black car with tinted windows and a "driver." I don't mean photo opps for ribbon-cutting or for new buildings. I mean in public. Like, unrehearsed. So yesterday, the Governor of Massachusetts, Mitt Romney, 'ol wooden boy himself, ventured onto the Boston subway system yesterday, in a bid to convince all of us commoners that the subway is, indeed, safe as it's ever been.

Well, thank god! Now that Romney has ridden the subway, we can all breath a collective sigh of relief. But I'm not writing today about the security of underground transportation systems. What I love about this story is that someone asked him if he even knew how much it cost to ride the subway. His game attempt at an answer? "A buck."

Oh, how we love this. Two years ago the subway raised their rates to $1.25. Does anything say "completely out of touch and aloof" more than a guy who doesn't know how much it costs to ride the subway in the city where he works? Delightful. Say what you want about Michael Dukakis, William Weld or Paul Celucci. There's a lot to say, in fact. But something tells me those boys knew the cost of a subway ride. There's more, too. As if life can't get any more odd, a homeless man near the Park Street station (Romney only rode one stop) shouted at him. But he didn't shout anything crass, nor did he ask for money or food. He loudly yelled "are you running for President?!"

Then, to top it all off, my favorite occurence: in the same few moments that the homeless man was strutting his stuff and showcasing his vast political knowledge, the loud cackling of an older woman could be heard to shout "you killed my cats!" It was none other than the very same woman who had been all over the news early last year, after being arrested for storing nearly 100 cat carcasses in her house. All in a day's work, governor. I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall at Romney's Belmont, MA. dining room last night.

UPDATE: Apparantly, there's actually a team of people who choreograph all public appearances made by Romney. Perhaps yesterday was their "activity day" at Six Flags or something?

 

Yeah, You Too

So I stopped by the liquor store on the way home from my hockey game last night to pick up a six pack of beer. Red Hook ESB, to be specific. That's my latest must-have beer. Anyway, I drop the six pack on the counter and the old Chinese man who runs the place makes small talk in a heavy accent about how hot it is outside and the war in Iraq. I nod and smile slightly, throw out a couple of "yeah's" and collect my change.

Then he says to me, "I'm not going to ask for your ID tonight." I say "hey, thanks" and as I start walking out, he adds "maybe 20 years ago I would have."

I didn't stop to ask him what he meant. But now I want to know. Is he hinting that I might have looked 21 years old back in 1985? Uh, what? I was 14 in 1985. Do I look that old? Or did he just mean that 20 years ago he was more strict about carding people? I'll never know.

Here's a question for you: if forced to give one up, would you rather give up your hearing or your sight? "Neither" is not an acceptable answer. As hard as it would be to not hear music anymore, or people's voices, I think I'd have to give up my hearing before I gave up my sight.

Great shot of Hurricane Emily.

 

Fantasy Land

Total baseball geekout:

A few of you know that I participate in fantasy sports leagues, particularly baseball ones. This season, in fact, I am in three different fantasy baseball leagues. I also partake in the fantasy football, however I know much, much less about football than I know about baseball. In comparing my performances in my baseball leagues this season to that of my football leagues this year, I've fared much better in the football leagues than I am in the baseball ones. In fact, this is probably my worst year of fantasy baseball.

Why is this? Who knows. Part of it certainly involves bad luck. I mean, you know the risks when you draft Mark Prior. But really, the crux of fantasy sports is really trying to predict how a player will do based on their performance the previous year. The rest is a combination of stabbing in the dark on who will improve, who might impress as a rookie and then the inevitable realization that at least three of your guys ain't gonna put out like they did last year.

So in theory, fantasy leagues are won and lost on the waiver wire (most of the time). When I first read about Tim Hudson being called up from the minors, I added him to my then struggling team and rode him to the top of the standings that year. He became the foundation just like that. His performance didn't singlehandedly win me the league, but it played a big part.

So in summary, I suppose: fantasy sports: 85% luck, 10% knowledge, 5% skill.

All that said, I recently completed season one of my MVP Baseball video game, losing in the first round of the playoffs to the Minnesota Twins. Typically I'd play another season, updating all the rosters to match the real MLB rosters, right up to the minute. But I bagged that idea and I'm going a different route this time. For my second season, I held a fantasy draft of sorts. I basically put all the players into the free agent pool and drafted my own team, while the computer auto-drafted the other 29 teams.

I did this to change things up a bit - it opens up the door for all kinds of trading and waiver wire pickups, which means I don't have to be a slave to the daily MLB transaction wire and match the video game rosters with the real ones. That's nice. I also did it because, unlike the real MLB, the door is now open for a "small-market" team to compete. Plus it's neat to see where players end up, such as Derek Jeter playing for the Milwaukee Brewers. See? The playing field is even. All teams have the same budget. In support of the small market (and because they play in a great stadium), I've elected to be the Pittsburgh Pirates. The team:

Starters:
C: Brian Schneider
1B: Albert Pujols
2B: Brian Roberts
SS: Jose Reyes
3B: Chipper Jones
OF: Scott Podsednik
OF: Trot Nixon
OF: Grady Sizemore

Starting Pitchers:
P: Mark Prior (injured after one pitch on opening day. Seriously)
P: Kerry Wood
P: Jon Garland
P: Cliff Lee
P: Dan Haren

Relievers:
P: Billy Wagner
P: Mike Gonzalez
P: Lance Carter
P: Mike Stanton
P: Chad Bradford
P: Ben Weber

Resevres:
C: Vance Wilson
OF: Jayson Werth
OF: Jason Lane
2B: Jorge Cantu
3B: Joe Crede

The computer did my minor league drafting, so complete blame goes to EA Sports and my motherboard for drafting Jeff Cirillo for my AAA team. Evil.

Geek.....out.

 

You dirty 'ol egg suckin'.......

You've gotta be kidding me. (thanks, Marlee)

 

Eight Miles High....

Nothing really to report today other than pointing you to a fantastic new blog I've been reading a lot of lately. Flight Level 390 chronicles the life of Dave, a commercial airline pilot. What I like best about his writing is that he's not bitching about his employer or telling stories about various drunken escapades in the seemingly endless amount of cities pilots find themselves in.

The writing is predominantly focused on actual flying and the issues that can come up during various stages of the trip, from pre-flight maintenance to landing and de-planing and of course, things that occur during the course of a flight. These are issues that we as passengers never really witness or even think about, but he brings them all to the forefront. It's really quite interesting. As an added bonus, Dave occasionally snaps some absolutely superb pictures from the flight deck.

In the end, all we want (and rightly so) is to get on the plane, be as comfortable as possible, arrive safely and get off. These people make it happen and I encourage you to check out some of the writing here, as it may be a bit of an education, too. Good stuff.

 

Take Me Back Home To The Free State Of Jones

The last few days provided a very necessary respite from the treadmill. Yes, I know I was just on the Vineyard. Yes, I went to Hawaii a few months ago, too. Philadelphia in May? Hardly a vacation mecca. But Squam Lake in central New Hampshire is about as good a place as any to really get away from life's paces. Why? Because nothing happens there. Really. Nothing. And that, my reader(s), is an absolutely beautiful thing.

We stayed in a 100 year old-plus cottage with electricity, but little more. Situated on an island on the lake, it truly is the same place that others stayed in 80 or 100 years ago. How do I know? Because there were amazing diaries there, in spectacular condition and kept by inhabitants who stayed there at the time. The logs contained passages from, for instance, the summer of 1929 - and almost each passing year afterward. You know what? Other than loon hunting, they did pretty much the same stuff we did - relaxed, looked out at the beautiful, quiet, blue lake and complained about the mosquitos! There were drawings, records kept of things that were cooked, explanations of why certain people couldn't make it that summer. There were children's names, written in those awkward, early-learner block letters. One particular entry was about how the family, for the first time, took a motorized vehicle up to Squam from their home in Massachusetts. It took them 11.5 hours. This weekend, it took us two.

The swimming - just divine. No jet skis allowed here. Perfect water. Very quiet and serene. Just throw an inflatable raft out there and lay on it and look out at the green, rolling hills, which hover around the dark water like a protective shield from what we see on the news every night. Those hills provide an sweet, enveloping comfort. Yep, this is exactly how they did it in 1905. The picture at the top there is taken from the only shower in the cottage - outside! Just take a look at the view. From the shower! It should probably be enlarged for it to really be appreciated. I'll post a slide show soon. Real good medicine. As a nice added bonus, the bald eagle has made a return to the Squam Lake region, setting up shop with it's recently born eaglet on top of the tree in the middle of the lake.

Oh - also snapped this shot a few days ago here at home. Seems we have a new family of deer in the woods behind the house. This is one of two very young kids - no bigger than an average size dog. It's pretty neat to see them horseing around and running after each other. Good stuff, indeed.

 

Weekend IPodding

The Youngbloods: Grizzly Bear
The Cars: Candy-O
Guided By Voices: Hot Freaks
Tool: Swamp Song
Drive-By Truckers: When The Pin Hits The Shell
Jayhawks: The Man Who Loved Life
Haynes Boys: Jackie
Doug Martsch: Instrumental
Screaming Trees: More Or Less
Kinks: Here Come The People In Grey
Peter Tosh: No Sympathy
Martin's Folly: Giant On The Beach
Fairport Convention: Who Knows Where The Time Goes

 

I'm A Mog: Half Man, Half Dog. I'm My Own Best Friend!

As I was reading through various articles regarding yesterday's bombings in London, I came across this gem from an article on Boston.com:

Blair, flanked by fellow G-8 leaders, including President Bush, read a statement from the leaders. "We shall prevail and they shall not," he said.

Whoa. Must have taken hours upon hours of painful re-writes and spirited negotiation for the gang of eight to come up with that heavy-hitter. I guess they ruled out "You know, these terrorists really suck" or "Syria's really gonna get it now."

Looking at the quote again, I couldn't help but immeadiately think back to the 1980s, to that complicated work of art which moved a nation to laugh, to cry and to hug: the movie Spaceballs. Now, I hope beyond hope that Spaceballs did not inspire the quote above, but the similarities are indeed strange. Take the following quote from Dark Helmet, indisputably one of the great villians of modern film:

"So, Lone Starr, now you see that evil will always triumph because good is dumb."

Now, I'm not a leader of any nation, but I do believe Blair should have copped this line verbatim and spat it out to the press yesterday, of course reversing the "good" and "evil" in the sentence. While we're on the topic of Spaceballs, might as well throw this bit of dialogue in, too:

Ship's Voice: This ship will self destruct in twenty seconds. This is your last chance to push the cancellation button.
Skroob: Cancellation button? Hurry.
[They all slide down a ladder. They run to the center of the ship.]
Dark Helmet: Where is it? Where is it?
Sandurz: It's gotta be here.
[Sandurz opens a panel to the self-destruct cancellation button. It has a sign on it that says, "Out of Order."]
Sandurz: Out of order?
Dark Helmet: Fuck. Even in the future nothing works.

 

Some final words on Rick Crawford before I try to put this behind me. Rick's sister Barabra somehow caught wind of my recent posts here and left the following message for me in the comments section:

"I read your words about my brother and I am so moved. Rick touched so many people.

Rick wasn't feeling well earlier in the week and went to the emergency room. Because there is no family history of heart disease, he was so young and in good shape, he was diagnosed with acid reflux and sent home. The autopsy revealed chronic heart disease that had probably been progressing since his 20s. His arteries were 90-95% blocked. His chloresterol was not high, but he was a smoker and life can be very, very cruel.

Thank you for your kind words."

So some of the pieces are coming together. At first glance of this message, I felt so infuriated that a team of professional caretakers in an emergency room could so badly mangle a diagnosis. Acid friggin' reflux? But upon a couple of quick internet searches and conversation with Stephanie, both of us pretty much realized there's little way, other than a cholesterol test, to initially detect chronic heart disease. Think about that. It's really quite terrifying. Clearly you can test low on cholesterol and still be walking around, a timebomb just waiting to go off.

I would imagine it obvious, of course, that more in-depth testing for an individual could point the way to proper diagnosis, but if there are no initial upfront signs, and it appears there were none in this case (although I clearly don't know all the facts here), you'd be hard pressed to get our healthcare system to provide extensive testing for someone who's not displaying the symptoms. That's just the way it is in America and I have no desire to get into the healthcare issue. No matter what caused the problem, be it not taking care of yourself (eating/exercise), smoking or simply bad luck or a combination of it all - the cause of his death doesn't really matter much to me. He was a good guy and Barbara nailed it when she said life can be so very cruel.

They can map the human genome but they can't tell when someone has blocked arteries? All I can do is shake my head in bewilderment and mild disgust.

In other, much lighter news, imagine to this? Holy crap on a stick.

 

Don't Be Afraid To Care

First off, the mystery picture below was a hair clip. The first guess, by Rob, got it correctly. Nice job, Rob. Let's hope you didn't recognize it right off the bat from so much personal use, eh?

This was the first weekend in quite a long time where I had very little to do. The past few months have been a whirlwind of weekend plans - drives here, parties there, commitments everywhere. All good, but I really needed a full weekend to just be in my own element for a while and I got one. Nice.

Of course, it ended up being a double-edged sword. It allowed for plenty of time for me to assess and then reassess the death of my friend Rick Crawford (see post below), something I probably didn't really need to think more about, since it's been at the forefront since it happened. It actually reminded me of the great John Cusack movie "Better Off Dead" where Cusack is driving in his car, fresh after being dumped by his girlfriend and every song that comes on the radio reminds him of the girl and/or the breakup. I'm not sure why, but the only song that I can remember from that particular scene is "She's Gone" by Hall & Oates (points for anyone who can name a few of the other songs that came on - it was a pretty funny scene).

Anyway, not to make light of the tragedy at all. My point is that it seemed like everything I did or saw reminded me of a particular moment with Rick. Or worse - reminded me of something Rick won't get to do anymore. Like holding a baby. Or hearing a great, great song. Both of which I did this weekend. The good thing is that I had a few exchanges with some common friends and it's was nice to just talk about everything and get it out there. It's still hard to even believe. I keep expecting to see another blog post.

Anyway, coinciding with my weekend of relaxation was the Live8 show. Upon scanning the lineup, I have to admit I wasn't terribly devoted to tuning into every last second of this, except for my curiousity in seeing the reunited Pink Floyd. So I tuned in occasionally and most of the time wasn't captivated all that much, especially in light of the horrific coverage by MTV & VH1, who felt it was necessary to break into mindless VJ chatter halfway through songs! Let me tell you something, as a music fan, I despise when TV or radio cut into music like that. It definitely didn't happen when they broadcast Live Aid. It's just inexcusable. I forgot where I read it, but in the many reviews of the show afterward one writer nailed it when they wrote (paraphrasing) that this may have been the event that moved MTV to "old guard" status and pushed the idea of watching live events on the internet into the mainstream. AOL covered the entire events, all locations, without brainless VJ drivel and apparantly hit a home run with it, as many accessed the shows via their browsers.

Anyway, I did manage, through a bit of a miracle, to catch the entire Pink Floyd set. As I predicted a few days ago, their set consisted of songs that you can hear anytime you want on your local classic rock station, but I understand why bands do that. An unexpected treat was the opening song, "Breathe," which is one of their songs I do appreciate quite a bit. It was actually exciting to see David Gilmour playing steel guitar during that open and I thought the band sounded fantastic throughout. My recent mentions of Pink Floyd may have you thinking that I'm some kind of hardcore fan, but that couldn't be further from the truth, actually. In fact, looking at it from 35,000 feet, I probably only like 10-20% of their music. But that 10-20% is music I find to still be quite fresh and inventive, even today. I certainly go back to it more that I ever thought I would.

Naturally, when the opening chords to "Wish You Were Here" rolled out (third song, I believe), it was definitely a moment I thought about Rick again.

As I did my best to move on with life this weekend, two videos late Monday night on VH1 Classic really caught my eye. First was Peter Wolf's late 1980s hit "Come As You Are," where he rolls out of bed, hungover, steps out into a sunny day, and proceeds to literally hop like a rabbit for the rest of the video. Hilarious. I had actually forgotten that "Come As You Are" was a pretty good song, too. That makes two different songs both titled "Come As You Are" that I really like. Can you name different songs you like with the same title? Pretty rare.

Anyway, just before I came up here to type (12:22am now), "Dust In The Wind" by Kansas came on. Holy hell. Of course, the song itself is dated and chock full of cheesy '70s style melodrama, but I never knew they cut a video for it! As one might expect, Kansas was a band with a lot of hair. It was so classic that I suddenly felt a crazy urge to try and snap some pictures of my television during the video, in case I never see this again and need a laugh. Believe me, I've needed one these past couple of days. So, for your edification, enjoy.....

I close my eyes....


Nothing lasts forever but the Earth and sky....


All we are is dust in the wind.....



.....of course, it made me think of Rick. 35 years old.

 

My Mind Is A Wheel........Spinning

It's atypical for me to be sitting here contemplating a blog post at 6:12pm on a Friday evening - especially since I just returned from a quick jaunt down to Martha's Vineyard for a couple of days. However, I received some news on Wednesday that really shook me and I've been trying to comprehend, analyze and figure out just what the hell is going on right now and what it all means. The picture you see here is a guy by the name of Rick Crawford. I first met Rick when we worked together at a failed dot.com back in 2000 & 2001. I actually worked with his brother, Pete, back in the mid-1990's at Rounder Records, too, so we had a connection right awat. Upon meeting Rick, we pretty much hit it off from the start - he's a big, big music fan, plays in a band, writes a blog and we have a strangely similar odd sense of humor. Rick's posted quite a few comments on this very blog, too. He always told me that every morning, he'd get into work with his cup of coffee and scroll through various sites - news, blogs, etc - and that my blog was always on that list. Every day!

Rick had a heart attack about a week ago and died. I'm still having trouble even comprehending this. Ever since I got word, I keep thinking "Rick died of a heart attack" and it all feels like a surreal, very cruel joke that someone is playing on me. I mean, it's just totally impossible. I know that next time we all meet at Redbones, Rick'll be there and we'll catch up. We'll have a few beers and laugh, like we always do. And we'll talk about the new Teenage Fanclub album and "hey, did you see Guided By Voices on Austin City Limits?!" But it'll never happen now. Gone. Poof. Just like that. Rick. Dead.

I hadn't seen him in the last year or so. Life happened. I got married, have been traveling a lot for work and keeping up on the treadmill of life. Rick also got married and even had a daughter, who's now probably eight months old and will never know what a damn good guy this was. Will never even get to hold his hand to walk down the street. Will never even get to remember the sound of his voice. All she'll have are pictures and questions. Tragic. So sad. And totally fucking unfair.

He was roughly a year older than me. I have no idea what caused this and I'm confused. Have I already reached the point in life where I have to start dealing with this? People of my own generation? People my age? I guess I do. While it seems uncommon for a 35 year old to die of heart failure, I suppose it's certainly not unheard of and I know one thing: I'll be making an appointment for a physical real soon (it's only been a year-and-a-half, but I'm still freaked).

I still don't know any of the details, either. I don't know his family history. I don't know anything and I can't shake it: Rick. Dead. He just posted to his blog on June 17th, for god's sake. It can't be. No way.