Looming in the Loo

I am one of those bathroom readers. I like to spend exorbitant amount of time sitting upon the plaster throne enriching my life with literature while crusties solidify themselves on my behind. Sometimes I think that I get a little too comfortable in the toilet, though. I find myself doing things other than just reading. Like writing this blog or, God forbid, eating. I have even brushed my teeth once while sitting on the toilet just to save time. My favorite times are when I am on the toilet reading poetry. For I personally believe that poetry should be read aloud. It takes on a new dimension as the words roll off the tongue. I would not take this as far as some who say that poetry should never be translated. Only spoken in its original tongue. But to hear myself in a small room with such good acoustics makes me feel like the words wrap around me like a winter coat. I almost feel like suggesting to my friends to read poetry to themselves in the bathroom. But then I realize that would be crazy. So I keep the secret to myself.

This is the only pic I could find to fit the blog. Thanks to idiot comics.

North Coast

Also while on vacation the men in my family decided to stop by the North Coast Brewing Co. for a little tour. For California's microbreweries I would have to say that this is by far my favorite. It rates up there with New Belgium and Bell's. Their newest brew Le Merle is amazing. Just ask the literary beer expert Michael Jackson (no not that one) who loved it. I didn't let it pass by unnoticed either. I bought plenty of brews in store and had my share across the street at the Pub/Restaurant. If you have not had the chance to enjoy one of their brews I highly recommend it.

What a Find

Its no secret that I am a thrift store junkie. So when I see a thrift store on the way into Fort Bragg while my family and I are on vacation I don't let it pass by unchecked. And oh what a find.


Items were copies of Being and Time, Only Revolutions, Dubliners, Great Days, St. Francis of Assisi, The Fall, and The Common Book of Prayer. Oh and Billy Idol's Rebel Yell. The total was less than ten dollars for the pictured lot. I also got a couple records of Persian and Turkish folk records on vinyl which are not pictured. If you get a chance to visit the Ark Thrift Store do it.

The Way Things Were

I remember the little things.
Like how her fingernails matched
the color as her flip-flops.
The cautious giggles and the
dead bird we found on the beach
while we were looking for sea shells.

The day was as perfect as memory allows.
Reading Neruda's Sea and Bells to each other.
Both wishing we could be there in Isla Negra
with him as he wrote. Or to comfort him in
Santiago during his cancerous death as the
world he struggled so hard to create crumbled
under Pinochet's heartless rule.

The day was almost like today.
Where the air is so clear you
can see mountain ranges
hundreds of miles away.

And these memories like cataracts
breaking over me keeping me from
seeing you the way you are.
The way things were.

Top Ten

I like to make top ten lists in my head a lot. Most of those will never be seen on this blog. Like "Top ten things to say to your friend while he is hitting on someone else in a bar," or "Top ten ways to kill a bear with your bear hands," and definitely not "Top ten films to watch privately and never tell anyone about ever." This top ten though is about which and I think that is okay.

Top 10 Films of 2009

1. The Good Heart - Dagur Kari
2. The Road - John Hillcoat
3. Public Enemies - Michael Mann
4. The Hangover - Todd Phillips
5. Where the Wild Things Are - Spike Jonze
6. Fantastic Mr. Fox - Wes Anderson
7. G.I. Joe: Rise of the Cobra - Stephen Summers
8. Avatar - James Cameron
9. Ponyo on the Cliff by the Sea - Hayao Miyazaki
10. Away We Go - Sam Mendes

They do not necessarily need to be in that order, but I think that this is the gist of what I will certainly be looking forward to watching.

Oddly Enough

This confessional site oddly enough invoked in me the times when I was a child. I would walk around my house with my eyes closed. I did this so I could prepare for a time when I might become blind. I wouldn't even turn on the lights when I woke up in the middle of the night. I still don't.

I also used to practice walking as silently as I could when I was in the house. I wanted to be like a ninja. Maybe I just didn't want siblings to hear me coming. To this day my housemates accuse me of sneaking up on them. Really I am just walking around like I always have since I was a child.

There I am on the right. The other childhood heroes and heroins are Kara, Hannah, Zach, and Molly is backing us all up.

Breaksea Tour

I am glad to say that I will be joining the swashbuckling crew of the Caravel Breaksea on their tour of the Fatherland and its inferior cousin some call the Switzerland. The German tour will go from May 1 to 16. Sorry to those Americans not abroad for we are not playing dates in the states. We will however be hitting all the towns in Germany you do not know. So if you happen to find yourself in Germany at the time that we are playing and by the divine grace of the almighty to be in the place where we are playing then please come and see us.

For some good pictures of what it will be like you can look here, here, and here. Thanks to Paul Shively for taking the pics.

Breaksea Caravel

When I was living in Minneapolis I was quickly introduced to a group called Breaksea Caravel. They were described as being a gypsy pirate romp, music to listen to on the high seas, a theatrical klezmer infused carnival orchestra. However people described them I knew that I had to see them. All I can say is they lived up to the hype. Which is why I didn't say no when I was asked to play percussion for them.

At the time Nik the accordion player was playing percussion as well. He was also sharing the responsibilities with everyone else in the band. The cellist played a typewriter. The bass player also played miscellaneous drums. Even the clarinet player ring, pound, or hit something for sound.

You would here hints of a waltz, or a tango, even a wedding dance here and there. Soon the bands members ebbed and flowed until there was an accordion, a clarinet, a violin, a bass, guitar, drum, and percussion. We all sang, stomped, clapped, and danced. The sound grew to include influences of Godspeed, Gorecki, sailor klezmer, roma gypsy, folk noir, and avant theater. With our own bicycle powered lighting and moving waves on stage we did all that we could to enhance the experience. We even wrote a whole show around a Butcher and an all but lost childhood dream. For us the possibilities were endless.

Pictured: Nikolas, Christa, Isaac, and Noah from font to back

We made three albums. Anchor, Whale, and Home. We practiced when we could, played shows when we could, and recorded rarely. Between our worldly travels and other musical ventures I would have to say we did our best. We played in multiple countries in Europe and quite a few states. All together I loved it. I have not played with the band since I moved to California, but it doesn't bother me too much since our Violin player is in Deutschland currently. Which is kind of like California, but with more beer. Soon, I'm sure, we will find all ourselves together again creating the old sounds just as we were always meant.

Follow the Black Rabbit

I love stumbling around on the internet. With the bulk of the time just excavating the wormholes between peoples links sections on web pages and researching topics like moonshining, Ragnar Benson, or buck dancing I am always pleased to find new and inspiring mediums.

Recently, I found Beth Cavener Stitcher's website. And the result was a feeling of defeat and awe inspiring me to create in some form something near to the beauty of her work.


It is work like this that challenges me to express and create beyond where I am comfortable. I see the potential of a singular art form. And I feel the emotional impact that a simple piece stoneware can evoke.

I digress... often.

I found this written in a notebook I kept when I still lived in Minneapolis.


The wind took my receipts away from me.
I didn't care. They were not important receipts,
not like the ones you keep for tax purposes.
These fell out of a bag stamped GEEK in large red letters.
I had been buying comics from the local supplier.
They don't let you leave discreetly.

My bus came, but I waved it on.
It was my day off.
And the next one came in 20 minutes.
I decided I wanted to keep writing.
So I walked to the nearest park.
To sit, and write, and muse until the next bus came.

Its too hard to write on the bus.
Even though there is plenty to write about.
Such interesting conversations can be overheard.
My writing is too small
or the ride is too tumultuous
Either way I cannot concentrate. So alas, I digress.

In between buses I have the unforeseeable amount
of time to document the lunacies observed from those
steel bars and vinyl seats. I once witnessed a black woman
wearing hot pants in hot weather. Her weave was slightly
discolored from the rest of her hair. You could tell when the
sun refracted through the windows. There was a glow like
a halo around the weave that made it obvious. I saw her
reading Dave Egger's What Is the What. Which is what I
thought to be listed on stuff white people like. My only
response was an audible, "What?"

Shun vs. Wusthof vs. Global

I love the cutlery. If you know me, you know I can talk about nearly anything with anyone for a good amount of time. But on of my current passions is kitchen knives. There are three main brands that I love, all for different reasons. I've been trying to think about which one is the best. I mean which one would you want to have in hand in a knife fight.

You might notice that brands like Forschener and J.A. Henckels are not on the list. So to dismiss them both I will say this. Both companies have put out some very decent knives in the past, but I personally believe their quality and craftsmanship have since gone downhill.

We'll start with Wusthof. I love the crap out of these knives. Notably, some lines like the Ikon, and the Cordon Bleu, even their Grand Prix series all had there flaws you cannot beat their Classic line. Sturdy, heavy, and always true. However, I will admit that due to the design some of the knives can be hard to professionally sharpen.

With Global you have light weight great designs and durability like no other. Stainless steel handles make for easy maintenance (no oiling needed). And the handles are textured so you don't get the sweaty palm slip factor like with other stainless handles. The one downside is the smaller these knives get the less I like them. They are so light that its uncomfortable to use.

Shun knives are made with the same steel as Kershaw. Many knives are also designed by Ken Onion of Kershaw fame and Alton Brown. I admit I was at first skeptical. But the D-shaped handle is actually much more comfortable then I expected. They have a good wieght to them and are able to cross the bridge between making great European styles knives as well as Japanese. This is not to put down the other brand's santokus, not at all. But I don't think Wusthof even makes a Nakiri.

Overall I think I would rate them in the order of the post's title. My mind might change over time. It usually does. But with what I know right now, I am happy with this.


Also, look at the knife I bought at a thrift store fro 25 cents. I had to sand down the handle, oil it, and put a new edge on the blade, but it is still a good blade. By the look of it I would say it is a Wusthof.

etc.

When I was attending college I would stop maybe once or twice a week at a Starbucks in the area to get what was the closest source of caffeine before or in between classes. I would go in and order my drink. They would ask me my name and I would pick up my drink and leave. This went on with general anonymity for quite some time. Around this time I had bought a belt buckle at a thrift store. The buckle was an old and made of brass with the letters GARY formed out of its shape. I was wearing this buckle when I found myself in the need of a caffeine fix before my philosophy class. I walked up to the counter and ordered my drink, but when the barista asked for my name. I lifted my shirt and pointed towards my crotch. The man across the counter lowered his head only to jerk it up as he looked to his left saying, "Gary, alright." I got my drink and left. The next week when I went in to get another fix, as soon as I enter the door I hear from behind the counter, "Gary! The Usual?"